Staring out the window at the red carpet that
loomed ahead. A red carpet littered with celebrities
who milled around like it was commonplace and
not some kind of alternate universe.

Somebody kill me now.
I pressed my cell a little harder to my ear, head

beginning to shake as my stomach flopped with
nerves. “Are you crazy? There is no way I’m going
in there by myself.”

“Oh, come on, Kaylee. It’s not any different

than going to the movies on a Friday night.”

Elle’s voice took on that casual tone she used

whenever she wanted to get her way, the words
missing the frantic edge they’d held when she’d
first called me to tell me she wasn’t coming.

To her father’s directorial premiere.
Okay. So, it wasn’t his first movie. Eleanor

Ward had grown up in Hollywood, her father
directing and producing some low-budget, albeit
freaking fantastic movies. There was hardly any
shame in that.

But this…this was the big one, an A-list cast

and a budget to match.

So yeah. It was a Friday night.
And I was at the movies.
But come on. Who was she kidding? We both

knew there was absolutely no comparison.

“Don’t do that,” I hissed.
“Don’t do what?” she returned, all kinds of

innocent.

“That thing you do. Where you act like nothing

is a big deal when you know as well as I do it’s a
really big deal.”

Exasperation blew through the words.
Ugh.
Elle.
She just had this way about her, always going

about life as if nothing in the world mattered.
Everything a game. No consequences or feelings or
fears involved.

Easy.
It was as if she held the entire world in the palm

of her hand. Every room she walked into, she
owned. Every conversation, she commanded.

All of it with a flick of her hand and a twitch of

her smile.

Magnetic.
I’d recognized her type the second she waltzed

into the dorm we’d shared our freshman year at
UCLA.

Gorgeous.
Spoiled.
Rich.
Sucking on a silver spoon when I’d worked my

fingers to the bone for every scholarship I could
possibly win. She had been subjected to dorm life
because her daddy wanted her to experience real
life, sent to slum it up with the common folk for an
entire year.

Poor thing.
But I soon discovered beneath all that

entitlement was a girl who would drop it all on a
dime for those she cared about. Without a second
thought.

So maybe we were polar opposites, but it didn’t

take long for us to become attached at the hip.

That was ten years ago.
In all that time, she’d never let me down.
Not until today.

“Please, Kaylee,” she whispered, and that

desperation was weaving its way back in. “I
already hate that I’m doing this to Daddy. Both of
us can’t not show. He’ll be devastated.” Her voice
dropped to a whisper. “And this is important.”

What could be so important that she wasn’t

here?

I pressed the heel of my hand to my eye,

probably messing up the thick liner and black
mascara I’d spent way too much time fretting over.
“I don’t understand how you could do this to me or
to him. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’ll explain it all later. I just...” There was

rustling in the background, muffled voices, before
her attention came back to me. “I have to go.
Just…please do this for me. Please, Kay Kay?”

I could almost see her big, brown puppy dog

eyes pleading from across the space.

Wherever the hell that was.
Surrender.
It was there in my sigh.
“Fine. But you owe me big.”
She gushed in relief. “I know. I know. Anything,

and it’s yours. Tell Daddy I love him, and I’m really
sorry. I’m sure he’ll be over to kick my ass in the
morning.”

“You know he will.”
The limo, the one Elle had sent for me, mind

you, after she’d begged and pleaded and convinced

me that I had to be here with her, inched forward.
She’d been adamant that I couldn’t miss this, that I
was family, and it didn’t matter that I didn’t belong
here at all.

And here I was.
Nervous energy prickled across every inch of

my exposed skin as the attendant opened the door,
that red carpet now right at my awkward feet.

I sucked in a breath and pasted on a fake smile,

praying I could pull this off.

One night.
I could do this.
I could pretend as if I didn’t wobble on my five-

inch heels as I stepped out into the night. Pretend I
felt confident in this over-the-top, super-sexy dress
with the slit running all the way to the top of my
thigh. One I’d borrowed from Elle because God
knew I couldn’t afford it on my kindergarten
teacher salary. Pretend the flashes of cameras
didn’t blind my eyes.

I kept my head down as I moved forward.
“Julianne. Julianne Hough. Over here.”
Um. What?
Wide-eyed, I looked back over my shoulder.

Yeah. Not so much.

I bit back a cringe when the reporter, one

whose face I’d seen plastered too many times on
my TV because Elle was addicted to celebrity TV,
mouthed, “Oh sorry,” and turned away in favor of

someone much more interesting.

God.
Could anything be more humiliating?
I had the urge to kick off my heels and run.

Cower and hide and slink into my safe little world
where I’d be curled up on my couch with a glass of
wine and a good book.

I glanced to the right.
A hundred feet ahead, the darkened double

doors of the theater teased me with the promise of
its sanctuary. All I had to do was make it inside
unnoticed. I’d slip in, be present for Elle’s father,
Roger Ward, who was one of the nicest guys I
knew, and then as soon as the credits rolled, I’d get
the hell out of Dodge.

I tucked my chin to my chest, eyes trained on

my feet, my uncoordinated, clumsy, strides just
short of a run.

Just get inside. Just get inside.
A gasp of shocked air shot from me when I

slammed into a wall.

A very, very hard wall.
A wall made up of flesh and muscle, and my

feet were sliding out from under me as I went
reeling back. Strong hands darted out, cinched
around my upper arms to keep me from falling,
drawing me up close.

So, so close.
I had the sudden, overwhelming urge to bury

my nose deeper into that big wall of chest because
it just smelled so damned good.

Or maybe I only wanted to bury my face in it,

so I’d fall in and completely disappear. Because
this had to rank up there as one of the most
mortifying moments of my entire life, second only
to the time my shorts caught on the slide in fourth
grade and they split right up the middle.

Warily, I peeked up at my savior.
Breath gone.
Eyes wide.
Stomach a mixed-up pool of desire and

embarrassment on the floor.

An earth-shattering smile full of bright white

teeth had my heart rate shifting into high gear, but it
was the playful brown eyes full of mischief and sex
that had my knees knocking.

Oh, God.
Yes, yes, I had my answer. Things could be so

much more humiliating.

Because I’d just run headfirst into Paxton

Myles.

Chapter 2

PAXTON

LOOK

of sheer terror on her beautiful face

makes it hard to contain my chuckle. My fingers
wrap around her thin arms as she struggles to find
her feet and tries to balance on her ridiculously too-
high heels. I can feel her body tremble under my
fingertips, and her lips form a perfect O as
recognition flashes across her face.

I smile down on her, and she slams her mouth

shut just as her cheeks fill with color. I usually have
that effect on women. Glad to see she's not any
different.

It was impossible not to notice her the moment

she stepped out of that limo. Her long blonde hair,
her petite frame, and the anxious way she ran from
the paparazzi and fell right into my arms.

My thumbs rub the soft skin of her arms, and

the scent of her floral perfume is intoxicating.

“Hey, hey, easy now,” I joke with her as she

presses her hands against my chest and regains her
composure. Her eyes flutter closed, and she takes a
deep breath, but I can't help but notice her hands
shaking and her full lips twitching nervously.

Realizing what's just happened, she exhales

softly. “God, I'm so sorry,” she mumbles under her
breath, shuffling from foot to foot as she tries to
straighten her long, black dress that has shifted
during her stumble.

“The cameras can be intimidating.” I try to

calm her and ease her obvious anxiety. “But I'm
pretty sure that stumble is going to make the
highlight reel on tonight's tabloid television.”

I laugh openly and her cheeks turn a darker

shade of red. “I'm Pax.” I grin, holding out one
hand for her to shake while my other still holds her
upright. “And you are?”

Her eyes fall to my outstretched hand only she

doesn’t reciprocate. “I know who you are,” her
voice rattles. “I'm not a celebrity. I’m a
kindergarten teacher.”

She finally manages to shrug out of my grip,

and I hold both hands up in a show of surrender.
She lifts her chin and finally holds eye contact with
me in mock confidence. I can see how fucking
nervous she is by the little dance she’s doing and
it’s making my dick hard. I love it when I can make
women squirm.

The flush from her cheeks is now crawling

down her neck and onto her chest. It's hard not to
follow those red splotches down to her perfectly
lifted tits—tits that would fit nicely in the palm of
my hands.

“Name. What's your name?” I lift my head

from her breasts up to her face as I wait for her to
answer. She fumbles around awkwardly, juggling
her small clutch from hand to hand.

“Kaylee. Kaylee Rose.”
I see Kendall Scott, my publicist, over Kaylee's

shoulder, one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows
arched in curiosity, but a look of warning shoots
from her bright blue eyes. A look she’s always
giving me.

I give her a little wink and decide to ignore her

non-verbal warning, turning my attention back to
Kaylee.

“Nice to meet you, Kaylee Rose.”
She inhales sharply at the sound of her name

rolling off my tongue. I've yet to lose the Southern
accent I acquired growing up in Texas. It's my
secret weapon. Women find it hard to resist that
accent, and it's helped me more often than it's hurt
me.

My agent has spent thousands on dialect

coaches, telling me it'll make me more marketable
when I'm able to ditch that light Southern drawl,
but I know when to use it, and when I need to turn

up the charm. I hold my hand out again for her to
take and she hesitates for just a moment before
sliding her soft hand in mine.

Kaylee is adorable and horribly uncomfortable,

and I can't help but find it perfectly amusing. She
nods her head frantically as her eyes dart around
me and toward the large theater doors she was so
adamant to get to when she fell face first into me.

Pulling her hand from mine, she fakes a smile.

“Nice to meet you too,” she mutters as she scurries
away, glancing back over her delicate shoulder at
me.

“Enjoy the movie, Kaylee.” I laugh openly as

she hurries inside.

“What the hell was that?” Philip Montes asks as

he sidles up next to me, sipping a glass of
champagne. He's breaking public relations cardinal
rule number one; don't be photographed with
alcohol. He catches me looking at the crystal glass
in his hand and shrugs before taking a sip of bubbly.

“I'm not entirely sure, but I'm about to find

out.” I see the large double doors close behind her.

“She's not Hollywood,” he scoffs and steps

aside as Jenna Berg and Ashton Walters make their
way toward us down the red carpet.

“No. No, she's not. Which makes me all the

more interested,” I reply, also stepping aside. Jenna
and Ashton are the new “it” couple in Hollywood.
Cameras flash, blinding me. I take this as my cue to

get the hell inside and away from this red carpet.

“I give them five months,” Philip says under his

breath, his eyebrow rising as we watch the power
couple work the red carpet. “I'm ninety-nine
percent sure he plays for both teams.”

I openly laugh, because I'm ninety-nine percent

sure Philip is right.

Philip has been my best friend and confidant in

this wild business. We've co-starred in three movies
together, and both of our careers took off
simultaneously. We've been dubbed the modern-
day Matt Damon and Ben Affleck—a whole lot to
live up to, but we're definitely up to the challenge.

Philip and I follow the growing crowd toward

the dark theater. After we check our phones in,
protocol for all screenings and premieres, we find
our way toward the assigned seats that await us in
the front row.

It's hard not to notice Kaylee, sitting in the

roped off area just across the row from me, where
typically only actors, directors, and producers are
allowed. She sits with her legs carefully crossed and
her hands resting on her knee—so proper.

It's when I see Roger Ward, our director,

approach her with a smile before leaning down and
pulling her into an embrace that my curiosity is
even more piqued.

She knows Ward.
Interesting.

Ward’s wife, Lindsay, also greets Kaylee

warmly. All three share in conversation, laughing
before Roger Ward points to the seat next to
Kaylee. A moment passes between them before the
smile suddenly falls from Mr. Ward’s face. It’s a
look of disappointment. I’ve seen it many times,
only this time it’s not directed at me.

Kaylee cringes, as she pulls her bottom lip

between her teeth. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ward look
upset, but not at Kaylee. A few more words are
exchanged and another brief embrace before they
sit down in the row directly in front of her. They
both occasionally turn around to make small talk
before the lights begin to flicker, and it's easy to see
Kaylee begin to visibly calm.

Philip and I take our seats as the lights begin to

dim and then rise again in an effort to get everyone
to quiet down, but I can't help but notice the empty
seat next to Kaylee.

A round of applause fills the theater as Roger

Ward stands and makes his way to the front to
address the audience.

I try to sit still as the movie starts, as the scenes

play. It’s impossible. I decide to make my move. I
nod my head toward Kaylee and Philip rolls his
eyes, but not before he fist bumps me.

It takes me three steps to get to her. Three steps

before her bright blue eyes look up at me. Three
steps is all it takes for me to decide that this girl is

going to be mine.

Chapter 3

KAYLEE

HAT

ACCENT

God.
That accent.
It was nothing less than a weapon, and I

couldn’t help but feel as if I’d been slayed. A steel
blade straight through the heart. Or maybe I’d been
struck by an arrow from one of the super cute
cupid bows. With the way things were going down
right now? Anything was possible.

I stumbled the rest of the way into the theater. I

made sure to keep one eye open, footsteps
cautioned, because I sure as hell didn’t need a
repeat of five seconds ago. As it was, my insides
were already twisted into a million unrecognizable
knots, and I was pretty sure there was only one
thing that could get them undone.

This mess of embarrassed nerves? They had

amplified into a bundle of this throbbing,
unrelenting attraction that shivered across my skin.

Of course, I’d known the chances of seeing him

tonight tipped the scale to high. I mean, come on.
He was the freaking star of the movie.

But I thought it’d be with Elle at my side. Me,

the invisible sidekick, the ordinary, plain girl hiding
behind her friend’s bold presence like it was a
shield.

Unnoticed.
But no. Because it was me, I had to go and trip

into the arms of the one man who held the power to
make me tremble through the screen.

Everyone had a Hollywood crush. A free card.

A fantasy.

Yes.
Paxton Myles was mine.
But those fantasies were never supposed to

manifest themselves as seductive flesh and strong
hands and megawatt smiles.

They weren’t supposed to flirt.
I mean, that’s what he was doing, wasn’t it? Or

had my subconscious—screaming at me to go
ahead and just take the plunge and drop the rest of
the way to his feet—convinced me into believing
he might have an interest in me?

Stop it, I berated myself, because those were

lines of thought I definitely didn’t need to entertain.
Even if he was interested, I absolutely was not.

Flings were not my style, and they were never
going to be.

Within the shelter of the theater, I shoved it all

down, took a steeling breath as I checked in, and
made my way to the seat I’d been assigned. I did
my best to keep the slit of my dress from exposing
too much leg as I settled into my seat up close to
the screen.

Yeah.
That was impossible.
Roger Ward met my eye from the group of

people he and his wife, Lindsay, were chatting with.
He wandered my way, eyes scanning as he
approached.

“Kaylee, it’s so nice to see you. Thank you for

coming. You don’t know what it means to me.”

He held me by both hands, and I leaned

forward to receive the kiss he placed on my cheek.

“I wouldn’t have missed it.”
His smile was sincere, and he squeezed my

hands tighter, glancing around again. “Where’s that
daughter of mine?”

I cringed.
He caught it, and his smile tipped down, lines

pulling across his strong brow. “What happened?”

I shook my head, trying to assuage the worry

that was so clear. “She’s totally fine,” I said way
too fast, before I slowed to clarify. “But apparently
some sort of emergency came up.”

The last came out like a question, because how

did you explain away the antics of Eleanor Ward?

Clueless, my shoulders lifted. “She called me

just as my limo was pulling up. She promised she
would explain everything to us tomorrow, but she
told me to tell you how sorry she is that she’s not
here.”

Questions flashed across his features, and I

squeezed his hands a little tighter. “I promise. She
wasn’t hurt or anything like that. Please…just
enjoy your night. She already feels awful, and I
know she doesn’t want you worrying about her.”

Frustration held fast for a fleeting second,

before he seemed to swallow it down. “Well, I
guess we can’t do anything about it now. And you
know Elle. She’s doing whatever it is she really
thinks she needs to be doing.”

I smiled with a light chuckle. “Exactly.”
Lindsay came up behind him, gave me a quick

hug, and the two of them settled into their seats
directly in the row in front of me.

Again, I was struck with just how crazy it was

that I was here. I could be annoyed. Irritated with
Elle for talking me into coming then turning around
and bailing.

But no.
I pushed all that aside and instead sent a silent

thank you to my best friend. I never would have the
opportunity to experience something like this

without her.

I chatted with Roger and Lindsay for a couple

minutes before he went up front to introduce the
movie.

When he returned to his seat, the lights

dimmed.

A shiver of excitement rolled through me. I

tried to pretend it wasn’t at the thought of seeing
Paxton Myles on the big screen and knowing he
was in the room.

Nope.
Didn’t matter at all.
Music thundered through the surround sound,

vibrating the ground, the intro a no holds barred
attention grabber.

Enraptured by the English scenery, I leaned

forward, my hand over my chest.

Roger Ward was truly brilliant.
And by God, so was the face that entered the

screen. It was an outright crime for a man to look
as good as Paxton Myles, and now I knew first
hand it wasn’t just photoshopping and lighting.

So maybe in this film he was playing eighteenth

century English Royalty.

None of that really mattered.
Because the man was a freaking Greek God.
The air stirred, a whoosh of quieted activity at

the empty seat that was supposed to belong to Elle.

My breath hitched. I struggled not to inhale,

struggled not to look. Struggled to pretend as if I
wasn’t hit with an overwhelming urge to turn and
bury my nose in that masculine scent I could feel
prodding at my senses.

The way my chest was heaving and my hands

curled around the armrests had to have been
obvious enough.

Suddenly he was there, pushing into my

personal space, his mouth at my ear. His Southern
accent that had me in a puddle earlier was now
twisted to match the character on the screen. “He’s
a good-looking bloke, isn’t he?”

I had to shake my head to clear it of the stupor.

My chin tipped up toward him, my eyes narrowed
in a scowl. “Excuse me?” It came out an
accusation.

He just sent me one of those belly-flipping

grins, the magnitude of it lit up in the frames
flicking across the screen. “That bloke there on the
screen. You seemed a little…impressed.”

“Um, wow. Someone’s full of themselves,

aren’t they?”

I sent the words with all the confidence I could

muster, hoping they would knock him down a
notch.

His cockiness just grew. Those full lips tweaked

into a smirk. “Oh, Kaylee Rose. Don’t act like I
couldn’t tell you wanted to climb right over these
chairs and fall into that screen. And here I am, in

the flesh. No need to go pretending when you can
have the real deal.”

“Shh.” It was all a frantic whisper, my eyes

wide and wild as they jumped to Roger and
Lindsay, praying they weren’t noticing who’d
slithered up to my side.

God. Did the man have no shame?
His hand found the slit on my dress, his

fingertips light, so, so light I had to wonder if he
was really even touching me. Still, the energy
eliciting a cascade of chills, an illicit feeling
washing me in thigh-clenching desire.

“I like your dress.” He whispered it like a tease.
Nope.
No shame whatsoever.
He inched closer, and I lost all my breath. My

hands clutched tighter to the armrests, and I gave it
my all to keep my breaths from panting out of my
lungs.

“Stop it,” I hissed.
“Stop what?” Oh yes, he could play it off as all

kinds of innocent. But I could see the mischief
glinting in the brown of his eyes.

“Stop trying to get a rise out of me.”
“Is that what I’m doing? Getting a rise out of

you? I’m fairly certain it’s the reverse.”

Gah. I wanted to scream. The man was

incorrigible.

Roger Ward slanted us a curious glance.

My voice was hardly a breath. “You’re making

a scene.”

His fingers fluttered up, not quite touching me.

Not until they were right over the thunder
stampeding beneath my ribs. He caressed at the v
of my low neckline, right between my breasts. “I
like making scenes. Obviously. And right now, I
want to make one with you.”

“Not a chance.”
“Oh, I beg to differ. I’d put down good money

that there are all kinds of chances rolling around in
that pretty little head of yours.”

“You don’t know me.”
“But I will.”
I gulped around the lump in my throat, focused

ahead, on the screen. Of course, the infuriating man
just teased me from there. Time spun on like the
best kind of torture, my breaths shallow and my
lungs heavy, butterflies flitting this way and that as
I watched the romance play out on the big screen.

Intense.
Deep.
Sexy.
His voice was back to whispering, lips brushing

the shell of my ear. “Pay close attention, Kaylee
Rose. We’re getting to the good part.”

My legs went weak as the film slanted into the

shadows of a bedroom, the moon all aglow to
illuminate one of the sexiest, hottest love scenes I’d

ever seen, seductive and slow, and there was
nothing I could do to keep from envisioning that
mouth sliding down my neck and delving between
my breasts.

I squirmed in my seat.
For that scene alone, Paxton Myles deserved an

Academy Award.

Hell. Who was I kidding? I doubted there was

any acting involved. It didn’t take a lot of
imagination to figure out Paxton Myles knew his
way around the bedroom.

A gush of air left me as the scene closed.
A dark chuckle, so low, filtered around me like

a hot breeze. “Someone seems…affected.”

Mouth dry, I swallowed. “It was a beautiful

movie.”

I meant it, in all honesty. I was incredibly proud

of Roger. And as much as I didn’t want to be, I was
completely awed by Paxton.

Another rogue grin. If I wasn’t already sitting, it

would knock me from my feet. “Not quite as
beautiful as you.”

Soft, disbelieving laughter left me on a sigh.

“You know, you don’t need to patronize me.”

For the first time, something serious flashed

through his expression. “I’m not a liar, Kaylee
Rose, nor do I have the time or inclination to
patronize women. When I tell you you’re beautiful,
I mean it.”

Redness seeped across my chest and climbed to

my cheeks.

God. This man.
“Then I apologize.” I stood, straightened my

dress as Roger and Lindsay were standing. “If
you’ll excuse me,” I said, turning all my attention
on the Wards, my escape.

Paxton didn’t stand. Of course, he didn’t.

Instead he made me nearly crawl across his lap to
make my way out.

Roger met me at the end of the aisle. “What did

you think?”

I swallowed down the flush I could feel still

coloring my face. “I thought it was phenomenal.
The best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, you don’t need to play it up on my

account.”

My thoughts flashed to the parting words I’d

shared with Paxton.

“I’m not.” I swore it like a solemn oath. “I felt

it everywhere. It’s unforgettable.”

Pride simmered on the man’s face, and Lindsay

tucked her head on his shoulder, patted his chest. “I
told you,” she said. “It’s perfection.”

I felt the intensity of the stare boring into me,

and I pushed a smile to my face and fiddled with a
strand of hair. “Thank you so much for having me.
I’m going to head out.”

Roger tsked. “You can’t leave yet. We’ll be

leaving for the after party in just a few minutes.”

“Oh, I think I’m going to pass.”
I needed to get out of there and now. Because

all I wanted was to turn and look over my shoulder,
to seek out the distinct laugh reverberating through
the air, the mesmerizing sound coming from the
man who’d completely captivated me.

My fantasy was a little too close to reality for

my comfort zone.

My jammies and a big tub of ice cream were

definitely calling to me. It was time to come back
down to earth.

“Rubbish,” Roger said, giving a good go at his

best English accent. “You have to come. You’ve
only gotten half the experience of a premiere. You
need a taste of the entire thing.”

Energy stirred, and I sucked in a breath, that

presence engulfing me as Paxton edged up to bring
his chest to my back, words a whisper in my ear.
“Yes, you definitely need to get a taste of the entire
thing. God knows I want a taste.”

Oh, Lord.
I was in trouble.
So, so much trouble.

Chapter 4

PAXTON

LIMO

DOOR

slams closed behind me as I slide

onto the leather seat with a loud sigh. My dick
pitifully throbs in my pants as I think about Kaylee
and her soft skin that I was able to chance a brief
touch.

How the fuck does a girl I've never met, never

seen before, stumble into my arms and have this
effect on me?

I'm Paxton Myles. I can have any woman in

Hollywood, or better yet, the free world. Yet, a
fucking petite blonde kindergarten teacher who
literally trips into my arms is what's causing my
dick to react this way.

Shit.
I shake my head at myself.
I shift uncomfortably, adjusting myself, and

reach for the bottle of whiskey from the wet bar.

Tossing a few ice cubes into the crystal rocks glass,
I serve up a healthy pour of the alcohol.

That dress.
Those legs.
Her perfect tits.
Fuck.
I close my eyes, pitching my head back against

the leather seat as visions of her assault me. I
grumble as thoughts of Kaylee dance around my
head. Thoughts of her legs wrapped around me fill
my mind, and my dick throbs harder. I envision the
feel of her nipples pebbling in my mouth as my
tongue laps circles around her sweet flesh.

Pressing the crystal glass to my mouth, I slam

the smooth amber liquid and purse my lips as I
swallow hard. I blow a puff of hot air from my
lungs and grit my teeth before pouring another two
fingers of premium whiskey into the empty glass. I
shake my head as the warm, rich liquid settles into
my stomach.

I remember my father telling me whiskey is

meant to be sipped…enjoyed. Not slammed.

However, right now, I need something to take

the edge and my mind off the beautiful Kaylee
Rose. Something to kill the sinful thoughts I'm
having of Kaylee right now; on top of me,
underneath me...pressed against a wall. “Fuck,” I
mutter to myself and brush my hand over my face.

As the limo rolls to a stop, the sound of

Whitney Brenna's soft moans fill the car. I chance a
glance to my right and see Philip has his hand up
her dress and his lips pressed to her neck. My man
has been wanting to tap Whitney since he co-
starred with her on some daytime soap opera over a
year ago.

I scoot toward the door, doing the best to adjust

my semi-hard dick before the paparazzi catch a
picture of my boner. “Game time,” I tell myself as I
exit the limo, stepping out into the tepid Los
Angeles air.

I straighten my bow tie and button my suit coat.

With the tilt of my head, I flash the million-dollar
smile that's made me rich, and I saunter into the
Hollywood Highlands Hotel.

The after party is in full swing. Not an expense

was spared—as usual. Gift bags line long tables for
the guests to take, and I watch ladies elbow each
other for the chance to get their hands on one. The
swag bags are always a hit with the non-industry
people.

The sound of laughter fills the large, open room.

I smile politely and nod as people congratulate me
on my performance in passing. A few stop to talk
me up, and I do my best to appear interested, when
in actuality, I don't give two fucks about their
assessment of my acting.

With my fake smile plastered on, I stare blankly

at them, casually looking over their shoulders and

through the sea of bodies in hopes of seeing my girl.
My girl. Even if she’s mine for only one night.
Presumptuous of me? Probably. But I don't give a
shit. I have one goal in mind tonight and that's
Kaylee Rose.

The open bar ensures that alcohol is flowing

and people stand around in small groups talking and
laughing. This is the best part of this business—the
parties, the booze, the women.

Across the room, I finally catch a glimpse of

Kaylee. Her back pressed firmly to a wall, a glass
of wine clutched between both of her hands.
Kaylee is deep in conversation with Lindsay Ward
when I make my way over to them.

“Ladies,” I say, announcing my approach.

Wrapping an arm around Lindsay Ward’s
shoulders, I lean into her. “Looking as beautiful as
ever tonight, Mrs. Ward.” She shakes her head and
laughs.

“You are such a charmer, Paxton.” She pats my

chest and leans into me. “Here, I'd like you to meet
Kaylee Rose. This is Eleanor's best friend.”

Lindsay tugs on Kaylee's arm, pulling her closer

to us. So close I can smell her floral perfume. So
close I can almost feel her soft skin. So close, but
not close enough for what I need from her.

“And thank goodness she's responsible and

actually showed up tonight. I don't know what has
gotten into Elle lately,” her voice trails off, not that

I was really listening anyway. I’ve been lost in
Kaylee since she fell into my arms. Everything else
has been a mere distraction. “You two were quite
chatty during the movie,” she says, one of her
eyebrows arching in curiosity. “Have you two met
before?”

It's easy to see Kaylee's cheeks flush a bright

shade of pink at our introduction. She refuses to
look up at me and keeps her eyes cast down at the
glass of wine that her long, lean fingers twirl in her
hands.

“Oh yes, we've already met,” I announce

proudly, hoping Kaylee will finally look at me. She
doesn't. Shit.

“You have, when?” Lindsay questions, taking a

step back.

“Earlier this evening. It was hard to miss

Kaylee's entrance.”

Kaylee looks up from her glass of wine and

narrows her eyes at me.

“I know darling, she's stunning, isn't she?” Mrs.

Ward asks, patting Kaylee on the arm.

“She certainly is,” I answer her and smile at

Kaylee, who hasn't removed the scowl from her
face.

“You're both being too kind,” Kaylee says.

“Lindsay, I know Elle is disappointed she couldn’t
be here. We both knew how much this evening
meant to Roger. I'm sure she has a really good

reason for not making it.”

Mrs. Ward openly scoffs, but slams her

champagne glass against her lips to stop herself
from saying anything further.

“And Mr. Myles, it was a pleasure meeting

you.” Kaylee rolls her eyes at me and tosses back
the last of her wine. “Congratulations on your
movie. Stunning work as always.”

You can literally hear the sarcasm roll of her

tongue with each word. Mrs. Ward looks between
us and purses her lips, confused by Kaylee's sudden
shift in moods. “But if you two will excuse me, I
have to be going. I have to be up early.” She hands
me her empty glass. “You don't mind handling that
for me, do you?” She smirks.

“Of course.” I hold out the empty glass, and it's

immediately removed by a passing server. What a
little vixen. She's trying to put me in my place.

“Oh, that's how it's done.” She rolls her eyes at

me, and I smirk. I love feisty Kaylee.

“What's going on with you two?” Mrs. Ward

asks us with a smile. She steps back slowly and
crosses her arms to get a better look at the both of
us. Kaylee rubs her hands over her arms nervously
and glares at me.

“Nothing!” Kaylee spits out before I have a

chance to come up with something witty. Dammit.
She's quick to the punch. I need to step up my
game.

“Are you sure you two haven't met before

tonight?”

“No!” Kaylee blurts out, and I can't help but

laugh. I love seeing her squirm.

“No, Mrs. Ward. We haven't,” I finally offer,

hoping Kaylee will calm down. With a little shake
of my head, I continue speaking to Lindsay, but
turn my attention to Kaylee. “But while it was
certainly an unexpected introduction, it was not
unwelcome. In fact, I hope for the chance to get to
know her better.”

“Oh, she's fantastic,” Lindsay pipes in. I don't

bother to turn my attention back to her as she
continues to sing Kaylee's praises. I remain focused
on the beautiful woman in front of me. “She's
smart, and kind, and such a great friend to Elle...”
Lindsay continues.

I don't hear anything else she says. With her

head tilted and the slightest hint of a smile turning
up the corner of her mouth, Kaylee watches me.
She's succumbed to the famous Paxton Myles smile
and charm that I’m known for. She exhales softly
and finally lets her lips twist into a small smile.

“The night is young. Let's go get a drink, shall

we, Kaylee?”

Chapter 5

KAYLEE

HAT

THE

world was I allowing this man to do to

me? Every time I tried to shut him down, he just
shot me that smirk that had my stomach doing
three-sixties.

Complete flip-flops, pulled in one direction only

for my defenses to go careening the opposite.
Shoving him off only to be right back where I
started—staring up into the mesmerizing, playful
eyes I couldn’t help but want to get lost in.

“I guess I could stay for one more drink,” I

found myself saying, knowing it was such a stupid,
bad idea, but unable to resist the charm that was
this man.

What could one drink hurt?
“I’ll talk to you later, Mrs. Ward,” I said, and

she gave me a look that both told me to have fun
and warned me all the same.

Paxton threaded his fingers through mine.
Oh my God.
It was then I was certain one drink could cause

all kinds of mayhem. That every second spent in
the presence of this man was a hazard. I had
completely underestimated his draw. Because with
just that innocent touch, my heart raced and sped,
just as fast as the tingles that spread up my arm.

Lord, help me.
Like a love-struck fool, I trailed him across the

extravagant space. Every movement he made was
filled with confidence and ease. The man owned
the room. Heads turned in his wake. Clearly,
everyone was just as compelled by him as me.

But it was the curious glances cast my way that

had me ducking my head, tucking my chin to my
chest.

The last thing I needed was to be the target for

some misconstrued gossip.

I followed him to the long, darkened bar, the

large bottles of expensive liquors illuminated by
white neon lights that reflected against the mirrored
glass of the back-bar that rose high above the
bartender.

A bartender who, of course, wore a long

sleeved white button down and black vest.

It was all so very Hollywood chic, and again I

was wondering how in the world I’d found myself
in this position.

His voice was low at my ear. “What would you

like to drink?”

“A Riesling would be nice.”
He turned to the bartender. “Riesling for the

lovely lady. Whiskey for me.”

The bartender poured our drinks, and Paxton

passed mine to me. He lifted his tumbler with a
subtle tilt my direction, our glasses clinking as he
made a toast. “To this magical, unforgettable
night.”

His words were packed with innuendo, and I

nearly choked as I took a sip of my wine. A blush I
couldn’t fight streaking everywhere, this unfound
attraction spreading far and fast.

Stupid girl.
Casually, he set his hip against the bar. “So, tell

me, Kaylee Rose, how is it you know Eleanor Ward
and her family? You seem a little…out of place.”

I felt my brow draw. “What’s that supposed to

mean?”

I wanted to be offended, but his observation

wasn’t any different than what I’d been thinking all
night.

He chuckled, the sound so seductive all those

secret places inside me clenched with desire.

Damn him.
He edged closer, and when he spoke, his breath

washed over me like a delicious breeze. “Oh, come
on, beautiful girl, there’s no need to play coy.

You’re much too sweet to belong in the midst of all
these vultures. They’d rip you to shreds.”

Arching a brow, I leaned back and met his eyes.

“Vultures? You mean vultures like you?”

He laughed, deep and low, the man encroaching

into my space, towering over me as he dipped his
nose to run it along my hairline and down to my
ear. “I’d gladly tear you apart, Kaylee Rose. But I
promise you, it will be in the very best way. So
good, in fact, you’ll be begging me to do it again
and again.”

Shivers skated along my flesh.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
There was no question in my mind he’d make

good on his promise.

A dangerous, dangerous fantasy.
That’s what this was.
Too close for comfort.
I cleared my throat. “Elle and I were

roommates during our first year at UCLA.”
Affection laced with irritation filled up my tone.
“She’s definitely from a different world than I am.”
I gave an offhanded, helpless shrug. “But somehow,
we became best friends through it all.”

He raked his teeth over his bottom lip.

“Opposites do attract, and all of that.”

Yep.
More innuendo.
And again, I felt shaky and itchy, wanting to

lean forward to inhale the essence of his man, all
the while wanting to run before I fell into his trap.

Right then, running sounded like the best plan.
I stepped back and downed my wine, set the

glass on the bar. “If you’ll excuse me.”

I rushed for the hallway and into the ladies’

restroom, pressed my hands to the counter, and
stared at myself in the mirror as I tried to calm my
rapid breaths.

Paxton Myles was so absolutely right.
I didn’t belong here.
I was out of place. Ignorant. Just begging to be

slaughtered. But it wouldn’t be at the hands of
anyone else at the after party.

It would be at the hands of a man who was far

too appealing for my own good. He’d use me up
and spit me out, and I’d be left with memories I
wasn’t sure I could handle.

I pushed out a breath, gathered my composure,

before I dug into my small handbag and pulled out
my phone so I could call for an Uber.

I had to get out of here before I completely fell

prey to the man’s charms.

Five minutes the app promised. Five minutes,

and I’d be safely tucked away in a car that would
carry me out of this fantasy world and set my feet
firmly back into my reality. Where I was plain and
ordinary and didn’t draw the attention of movie
stars who could snap their fingers and have any

woman they wanted begging at their feet.

Where I lived a simple life teaching the kids I

loved and didn’t attend movie premiere after
parties.

Where I was safe.
And safe was where I wanted to be.
Sucking in a breath, I drew open the door and

stepped out into the hall dimmed with shadows and
the echo of the party happening at its end.

But in it, the presence was profound. Something

great and intense. The breath I’d sucked in left me
on a whoosh when I was suddenly pinned up
against the wall by a big body.

So warm.
Overpowering.
Gorgeous.
Fingertips trailed along the slope of my neck,

and my heart shuddered and shook, my pulse
erratic as I looked up at the man staring down at
me. “Are you okay?”

His worry took me by surprise.
But more surprising was the answer that popped

up in my head.

No.
I was definitely not okay. This man had

managed to knock me from my axis. He was
making me want things I would never allow myself
to have.

“Why would you think I’m not?” I asked

instead, caught off guard by his concern.

In a flash of that playful mischief, a smirk

pulled at one side of his mouth. “Oh, I don’t
know…a gorgeous woman suddenly runs into the
restroom to remove herself from the unwanted
advances of a man. It sounds like Ditch the
Douchebag 101 to me. And that’s not a label I take
so kindly to.”

It was all a tease wrapped up in what I was sure

was true concern, those brown eyes deep and dark
and intent.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, my

eyes blinking through the cloud of confused
attraction. “You make my head spin,” I answered in
all honesty.

He backed me up farther, my body plastered to

the wall, his hot as hell body pressed against me.

My thighs shook when I felt his length pleading

at my belly, heavy and hard and more prominent
than any wild fantasy I could have conjured.

Desire surged, and I had the overwhelming urge

to press my hands to his chest, to his cock, to let
them explore and trace and discover.

He dipped his head, his mouth an inch from

mine. Hovering. Wavering. His lips a mere breath
away from becoming a kiss.

His voice dropped so low, it shook through me

like a tremor. “And what I want is to make your
body sing.”

“I don’t do this,” I whispered, feeling

everything caving in around me. My willpower and
self-control.

“Don’t do what?” he asked even lower.
His lips just brushed mine when he spoke.
Fire.
Trembling, I forced out the words. “One night.”
It was the truth. I’d never just fallen into a

man’s bed. Had never allowed a complete stranger
to touch me.

But maybe that was the most dangerous thing

about Paxton Myles. He didn’t feel like a stranger.
His face so familiar, his over-the-top world shoved
in our faces in magazines and movies and the
tabloids.

The fantasy.
Paxton growled, his big hands cradling me at

the sides of my neck. “Who said anything about
one night?”

I almost released the incredulous laugh bottled

in my chest. But I was too busy getting lost in his
gaze to chastise him for alluding to things we both
knew would be nothing less than a lie.

Because we both knew exactly what this was.
Those eyes searched my face, and his tongue

darted out, swiping across his full bottom lip.

My lips parted on a sigh. There was nothing I

could do to stop it from happening.

Nothing I could do to stop his kiss when his

mouth fell against mine.

Because I didn’t want to. Didn’t want to resist.
His lips were soft at first, teasing caresses that

sent a rush of chills scattering through my insides.
He flicked my bottom lip with his tongue. Warm
and soft and wet.

I opened to him, let him draw me closer as he

kissed me deeper. Our tongues were a tangle of
exploration.

And want.
Hot.
Unrelenting.
Ruthless.
He took, and I so willingly gave.
My phone rang in my purse, jarring us out of

the rapture.

He jerked back.
His expression was enough to steal my breath.
The man was so insanely gorgeous.
Larger than life.
Adored by millions.
And he was looking at me in awe.
In lust.
As if I was the only thing he could see.
“My Uber is here.” The words were clogged

with my own desire as I forced them out.

He gripped me tighter, his words a rasp. “Come

home with me.”

A weighted moment spun around us.

My indecision snagged and snarled with the

abounding lust.

“Okay.”
Wait, what?
I had to be insane.
A needy sound rumbled up his throat, and he

dipped down, kissed me again.

This time hard and quick.
Possessive.
With a promise.
Then my hand was back in his. “This way,” he

said.

He hauled me down the hall in the opposite

direction of the party. The man clearly knew his
way around as he quietly latched open a door and
slipped us into the silence of a large storage room.

A gasp shot from me when he suddenly spun

me around and pressed my bottom up against a
table, his kiss verging on mad as he searched me in
the dark, hands slipping down my sides and grazing
across my breasts.

My stomach flipped and my heart rate kicked.
His touch elicited a moan from deep within me.
So easily.
“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you,” he

whispered in the dark. Then, just as fast, he was
dragging me deeper into the room and ducking us
out through a back door and into the Hollywood
night.

Cool air brushed my overheated skin, and those

anxious nerves zipped through my veins, my
breaths short and ragged as he snuck us around the
building, careful to keep us concealed in the
shadows.

He glanced around, checking that we were in

the clear, before he tightened his hold on my hand
and rushed us toward a limo.

He yanked open the door. “In.”
I didn’t hesitate. I just jumped inside, and he

was sliding in beside me with a flirty smirk on his
face as he slammed it shut behind us.

He lowered the privacy glass. “My house,” he

threw out like an order before he closed it.

He cut his gaze toward me where I sat pinned

against the far seat, squirming beneath the intensity.

His expression?
This time his expression was predatory.
He shifted on the long leather seat, crouching

down on his knees where he moved to plant both
hands on either side of my hips. “Hang on tight,
Kaylee Rose.”

At his words, desire throbbed between my

thighs.

His eyes darkened with lust.
Because we both knew it.
What I was giving myself over to.
What I was surrendering.
Giving what this beautiful man was all too

willing to take.

One. Wild. Night.

Chapter 6

PAXTON

WEAVE

through the busy downtown streets and

out of Hollywood toward my home in the
Hollywood Hills. If only my driver would hurry the
fuck up. With her fingers still laced through mine,
Kaylee shifts nervously in the seat next to me. I can
feel her anxiety and smell her desire.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask as I reach for

the bottle of whiskey I had just poured from a few
short hours ago.

“Champagne would be nice,” she says softly.

Kaylee's eyes flit around the back of the limo,
taking in all the lights and knobs, while I get her a
drink. “Do you always have a driver?” she asks,
looking out the window.

I pause, wondering if she's serious. When she

turns back to me and her innocent blue eyes meet
mine, I know she is.

“No, Kaylee.” I tilt her champagne glass as I

carefully pour the bubbly. “Only for special
occasions. I typically drive myself everywhere I
need to go.”

Her eyes twinkle under the lights, and her lips

twist into a smile.

“I'm a normal guy. I do my own laundry and

grocery shopping. I even open my own mail.” I
wink at her and hand her the glass of champagne.

I can see her visibly relax, and she settles into

the soft leather seat. Her voice is gentle and
smooth. “It's so beautiful up here,” she says, her
eyes fixed out the window at the winding streets
we're climbing.

Most of the houses in the Hills have been

bought and renovated or torn down and rebuilt into
sprawling estates. The city lights of Los Angeles
can be seen for miles up here, making the view
priceless—one of the reasons I bought my house
here in the Hills and not near the beach.

“It is,” I reply. “It's my favorite part of the

city.”

“I can see why,” she sighs, taking another sip of

champagne. The limo slows, and I lower the
privacy glass to give the driver the gate code so he
can pull into my drive.

“Is this your house?” Her eyes widen as we pull

into the drive way.

“It is.”

She nods her head and smiles as we pull up the

long drive.

“Not what you expected?” I ask her, and she

turns to me.

“Not at all.” She shakes her head a little. “It's

stunning, but it's…” She purses her lips and
scrunches her brows together. “I don't know, it's so
normal looking.”

I let out a laugh at her observation. I had this

four-thousand square foot ranch-style home built a
year ago. The outside is very understated to say the
least, a single-story, modern ranch-style home…one
you could see in any neighborhood in America.
However, the inside is where the goods are.

“I like it,” she says, not sure if she's talking to

herself or me. As the limo stops on the large
circular drive, the driver opens the back door, and I
slide out first. I wait for Kaylee to appear, and I
reach for her hand, helping her out.

Sliding my hand into hers and, with a wave, I

send the driver on his way.

Just inside the front door, Kaylee kicks off her

heels and literally moans in relief when her feet hit
the floor. “I've been wanting to do that all night,”
she says, wiggling her toes. Her head is tipped back,
and her eyes are closed as she relaxes.

Without a second thought, my hands find her

soft cheeks, and I pull her to me, pressing my lips to
hers. Soft and sweet, she tastes like everything I

imagined she would. “And I've been waiting to do
that again.”

She hums against my lips as I deepen our kiss.

Our connection is palpable.

“Pax,” she mumbles as I walk her backward

down the hallway. Every inch of my body is aching
to touch hers. I feel like a dick for not even offering
to give her a tour of my place or offer her a bite to
eat. But I cannot wait another second to get my
hands on Kaylee.

“Mmhmm,” I respond.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“More sure than I've ever been about anything

in my life.”

“Why me?” She stops us dead in our tracks. We

stand in the dark hallway just outside my bedroom.

“Because when something you didn't realize

you were looking for falls into your lap,
literally…”—I chuckle—”…and it feels, right? You
don't let it go.”

“Right?” she questions.
“Yeah. I can't explain it.” I shrug. “It just feels

right.”

She presses her hands to my chest and over my

shoulders, pushing my tuxedo jacket off my
shoulders and down my arms, letting it fall to a pile
at my feet.

“Don't move,” she says quietly, tugging on my

bowtie and tossing it to the floor with the jacket.

My cock is rock hard and pressing against my
pants, begging for release.

“Kaylee,” I begin to warn her. When her palm

brushes against the front of my cock, it instantly
silences me. She can see her effect on me and plays
into it. Her fingers work quickly as she yanks my
tuxedo shirt from my pants and unbuttons it,
disposing of the crisp white shirt on the floor
alongside my jacket and tie.

“My turn.” I stop her, pinning her against the

wall with my hips. Two can play this game. Only
she pushes back—hard—and shoves me against the
opposite wall.

“No. If we're doing this, I'm calling the shots.”
Fucking bossy little minx.
Every ounce of self-control I had is gone. One

hand pressed firmly on my chest to hold me in
place, she uses the other to unfasten the belt and
button on my pants.

“Kaylee,” I warn her again when her fingers

brush against my dick.

“Pax,” she warns back as she slips her hand

inside my boxer briefs grasping me.

“Jesus,” I hiss, and she giggles. She actually

laughs.

She urges my pants off my hips and down my

legs, pulling the boxer briefs down with them. She
has me totally exposed and hasn't let me even touch
her yet.

“Kaylee,” I warn, this time more aggressively.
She pauses, but only momentarily. “Two more

minutes. Just give me two minutes. I promise, it'll
be worth it.”

Before I even have a chance to reply, she's

dropped to her knees, dragging her hands down my
stomach along with her. Her fingernails igniting a
trail of goose bumps as they travel even farther,
where she finally cups my balls in the palm of her
hand.

Suddenly, warm lips wrap around the head of

my cock, and nothing can stop the low growl that
leaves my mouth when her tongue brushes against
my sensitive skin. I reach down to lift her chin
gently. I want to see Kaylee's blue eyes as she licks
and sucks my cock. There is nothing sexier than a
woman on her knees with my cock in her mouth.
Instinctively, both hands reach for her head, finding
the long strands of her blonde hair and I twist the
silky strands through my fingers.

As good as this fucking feels, it's my turn to call

the shots—it's my turn to taunt, and touch, and
taste. In one swift movement, my cock is out of her
mouth, and my hands pull her back up to standing.

“Turn around,” I hiss into her ear as I spin her,

pressing her chest to the wall. I can hear her rapid
breaths and feel her heart pounding against her ribs.

My fingers work the long zipper of her dress

where the black fabric falls to a pile at her feet.

“This way.” I guide her carefully from behind

down the hallway to my bedroom. Her bare feet
slap against the travertine tile until we come to a
sudden stop when her knees hit the edge of my bed.

“Hands and knees.” I push her forward onto the

plush bed. She inhales sharply but complies.

Good girl, I think to myself with a smile.
I turn on a small lamp that allows just enough

light into the room for me to see Kaylee, but not
enough to make it feel intrusive.

She's all tan skin and black lace in the middle of

my bed, with big blue eyes watching me carefully.

“Kaylee, Kaylee, Kaylee.” I shake my head as I

inspect every inch of her on display. Running my
hand over the curve of her perfect ass, I make sure
to rub the small satin patch that hides the very thing
I can't wait to get my lips, my tongue, and my cock
on.

She gasps and thrusts as my fingers find her

ready and wet. I tsk openly. “Someone is certainly
ready, isn't she?” I yank one of her feet out from
underneath her, causing her to fall gently to her
stomach.

“Roll over,” I hiss, and she does. Her blue eyes

watch me intently, waiting for my next move.

“Knees up,” I order her. She hesitates, but once

again complies. I position myself at the end of the
bed, between her knees. Her perfect tits lay across
her chest covered in black lace, allowing me just

the slightest peek of her pink nipples underneath.

Reaching forward, I pull the cups of her bra

down. Her chest rises and falls quickly with each
breath. “Look at you,” I tell her as I roll one of her
pink nipples between my thumb and forefinger. “So
fucking beautiful, Kaylee.”

My fingers follow the smooth skin of her

breasts, down to her stomach, stopping at the edge
of her lace panties.

She pulls her lips between her teeth and arches

her back, knowing exactly what I want. Lifting her
bottom, she makes it all too easy to remove her
panties—the only thing that was keeping me from
devouring her.

Everything about her is beautiful and has me

wanting her. I want to know this woman inside and
out. The nervous look in her eyes, the vulnerability
written across her face…and the way her body
reacts to me, tells me she's scared, but she's trusting
me. Everything about her is perfect.

Not Hollywood perfect, but the kind of perfect

a man really likes. Not cosmetically enhanced
perfect. But the kind of perfect that tells me
everything about her is real. Every curve, every
lean muscle, every scar is one-hundred percent,
Kaylee.

My hands grip her hips, pulling her closer to the

edge of the bed. Her knees falling apart, inviting me
to touch her. My fingers find her warm and wet.

She inhales sharply as my fingers touch her
sensitive flesh. Her clit throbs under my touch and
little moans escape her as I roll it between my
fingers.

The way her body reacts to my touch drives me

wild. My cock aches as I take my time exploring
her. Sliding one finger and then another inside her
tells me everything I need to know—she's as ready
as I am. Fuck. She’s tight and wet and I want to
take her right now.

“Pax,” she mumbles as she twists her fingers

into the comforter of my bed as I hit that spot I
knew she’d love.

“Feel good, sweet girl?” I ask, moving my

fingers slowly in and out of her. My thumb rolls
back and forth over her clit as she gasps for breath.
She nods her head frantically and lifts her hips to
meet my fingers as they work her over. She exhales
loudly as I pull my fingers from her and pull a
condom from my bedside drawer. Rolling the thin
sheath over my cock, I position myself at her center
doing everything to not plunge right into her.

“Look at me, Kaylee,” I instruct her.
Her blue eyes meet mine, full of lust.
“I want to see your eyes when I fill you,” I say

quietly as I push inside her slowly. Her eyes flutter
closed and back open as I slide into her. Her chest
rises and falls with every inch until I've gone as
deep as I can.

A small smile tugs at one corner of her lips as I

begin to slowly move. “Gonna make you come so
hard, Kaylee,” I mutter as I push in and out of her.
Her thighs shake and her head falls back farther
with every thrust.

I hold her knees apart and revel in the sight of

where we connect. Her soft pink flesh, wet with her
arousal, accepting me. My body fights, torn
between wanting to fuck her like a wild animal, and
taking my time with her—devouring her for hours.

Suddenly, her foot to my chest stops me, and a

smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Lie down,”
she says, catching me off guard.

“Nope. Nuh uh. This is all me. I'm calling the

shots now.”

“Just lay down,” she says and wiggles to the

center of the bed, breaking our connection. I sigh,
but do as I'm told, lying down next to her. She rolls
over, swinging a leg over me so that she's now
straddling me. Using her fingertips on my chest to
balance herself, she wastes no time…sliding onto
me. A perfect fit. Nice and tight.

Fuck. Oh Jesus, fuck.
My fingers find the soft curve of her hips where

I hold onto her for dear life. I can make out the
smirk on her face as she begins to ride me slow and
methodic.

“Jesus, woman,” I hiss as she begins moving

faster. Reaching down between us, she squeezes

the base of my cock and all I see are fireworks.
Fireworks and Kaylee's perfect tits bouncing in my
face. Leaning forward, I'm barely able to pull one
of her taut nipples into my mouth, causing her to
gasp loudly as I bite.

Only fair.
I don't know how we manage to spend the next

hour devouring each other, but we do. On the bed,
the floor, and against the wall, when we both finally
climax, we fall into an exhausted knot of twisted
limbs onto my bed.

Kaylee's head is curled up under my chin, and

I'm able to make out the steady sound of her
breaths telling me she's fast asleep. Only then do I
finally close my eyes, pulling her tightly to me.
What was supposed to be one wild night, could
certainly be so much more.

Chapter 7

KAYLEE

BARELY

CRACKED

OPEN

EYE

. Faint hues of sunlight

streaked in from the window, prodding me from
sleep I didn’t want to be roused from.

I was too comfortable.
Too cozy.
Too warm.
A bit disoriented, I tried to stretch out my body.
My sore body that was wrapped up by a body

so much bigger than mine, eclipsed where it was
caged.

What the hell?
My head popped up two inches, considering I

was pinned and couldn’t rise any higher.

Eyes widening, they wandered, trying to

process my surroundings.

The expansive, masculine room.
A room with a view so dramatic it stole what

little breath I had left.

But what was freaking me the hell out was the

bed that was not my own.

And the man…
Oh. God.
The man who was spooning me from behind.
Spooning. Me.
In what crazy world did that happen?
My heart rate kicked up as memories of last

night came barreling in.

Pinned against the wall.
Back arched as I begged.
A hot, hot mouth on my breast.
His throbbing cock in my hand.
Paxton Myles buried deep inside of me.
Stealing my breath.
Stealing my sanity.
Pulling the most mind-blowing pleasure from

my body. Again and again.

Chills spread across my bare skin.
Never before had I experienced a night quite

like it. The few boyfriends I’d had hadn’t even
come close. Couldn’t have.

That would be an impossibility.
No doubt, this Hollywood god had ruined me

for all men.

He’d given me a taste of fantasy when I knew I

had to be stepping back into my reality.

The problem was, I wanted to stay there for a

little while longer, which was exactly why I needed
to get the hell out of there.

Holding my breath, I pried myself out from

under his massive arm, careful not to wake him.

He rolled all the way onto his stomach, his

ridiculously handsome face peeking out from the
pillow, the curve of those full, red lips enough to
send those butterflies in my body into a tailspin.

Flitting and fluttering.
My mouth watered as my gaze traced down,

memorizing the strength of his wide shoulders and
the defined cut of his slim waist.

A satiny sheet was pulled to above his hips.
But I knew firsthand what was hidden

underneath.

The stark beauty of pure man.
Bold and big and powerful.
A shudder rolled through my senses, tingles

ushered in by his phantom touch.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Not after last

night. Only Paxton Myles could bring another rush
of pleasure from me while he was fast asleep.

I fought an affectionate smile as I looked down

at him once more. Warmth welled in my chest as I
tucked the memories inside. I would never forget
the miraculous night this incredible man had
offered me.

My Hollywood crush.
My free card.

Well, I guess that was that.
I’d cashed it in.
I allowed myself one last glance, a barely-there

caress of my fingertips across those lips that last
night had devoured every inch of my body, before I
slipped from his bed.

Silently, I tiptoed across the cool, travertine

floors, gathered my lingerie and wadded it at my
chest as I stole out the crack in the door. I moved a
little bit faster as soon as I hit the hall, even quicker
as I slinked into my dress where it’d been
abandoned on the floor.

I shoved my balled-up bra and panties into my

clutch.

Classy.
I dug my phone out of my clutch, the battery

low, but it at least had enough juice for me to hail
an Uber.

Thank God.
Snatching my heels from the floor, I unlatched

the front door lock, the straps of my heels wound
through my fingers and swinging from one hand.

Harsh sunlight glared down, and I squinted

against the intrusion. In the clarity of day, things
became so much more obvious.

My disheveled appearance. The hair I was

rockin’ screamed I’d just spent the entire night
being completely and utterly ravaged. Smeared
make-up.

I had to look like a train wreck.
My stomach twisted at the realization.
I was doing a straight up walk of shame.
Never before had I felt so exposed or on

display.

Pulling in a stealing breath, I lifted my chin and

marched down the long drive.

It was time to leave this night behind.
Toss a padlock on this sucker and let the weeds

grow up around it.

Like a beautiful old house with the windows

boarded up.

Buried but never forgotten.
Just distant memories that could never be

reclaimed.

Ones that only I would ever know.
Because girls like me didn’t do these types of

reckless things.

Like climb a freaking wrought-iron gate

wearing this damned dress to even get out of the
compound.

I was betting that was pretty.
I scoffed. Nothing but a poster child for

elegance and sophistication.

Yeah right.
I dropped down on the other side.
As soon as I saw the small black sedan slow,

looking for me, I all but ran for it.

Because I couldn’t stand to think of what I

looked like right then for a second longer. I ducked
into the backseat and breathed out a relieved
breath.

The car flipped a U in the middle of the road,

and I chanced looking back over my shoulder.

The tiniest flash of sadness swept through my

senses.

No man had ever affected me the way Paxton

Myles had. He had ruined me in the best of ways. I
honestly doubted another could compare.

And there was just something about

him...something more than that megawatt smile and
his mind-blowing kisses.

But that was the thing about fantasies. You

could only live in them for a little while.

Just before we rounded the curve, I whispered a

silent goodbye to my one wild night.

I blew out a relieved breath and sagged against the
inside of my front door, reaching back to lock it
behind me. I tossed my keys to the small bowl on
the entryway table, tossed my clutch behind, and
plugged in my dead phone to recharge.

Forty-five minutes and an $80.00 fare later, I

was home free.

My townhouse was small, and I walked through

the cozy living room with the overstuffed couch
and messy coffee table, the walls lined with books

and pictures and knickknacks, as I made my way
into my room and to my tiny en suite bathroom that
wasn’t much larger than a closet.

Swanky, I know.
I turned on the shower full blast, relishing a

calming breath as steam began to billow into the
small room.

First order of business was ridding myself of the

dress.

It pooled at my feet, and I kicked it aside where

it was left in a heaped-up ball. I only felt the
teeniest twinge of guilt for completely ruining Elle’s
dress. One I could do without knowing the price tag
of.

I hadn’t decided if she’d ruined my night or

completely made it. I still hadn’t settled on whether
to chew her out for not showing or to sing her
praises.

I was sure what happened last night wouldn’t

have happened had she been there.

I stepped into the warm spray. A tiny moan

rolled up my throat as the pounding water began to
ease my tight muscles, my hips perfectly sore from
where Paxton had gripped them tight.

An ache of pure satisfaction throbbed between

my thighs. An ache I secretly prayed would never
go away.

I washed and rinsed, slowly dried and applied

lotion, all the while allowing myself to savor the

memories spinning through my head.

I bit my lip, fighting a blush when I thought of

all the things we’d done. My face was flushed when
I looked in the mirror, and I was betting it had zero
to do with the hot shower I’d just stepped from and
rather the unforgettable experience from last night.

Life was little more than a gathering of

memories.

These were memories I was never going to let

go of.

I slipped into a cozy pair of shorts and a tee,

figuring after last night I was due a lazy day. I
headed into the kitchen, made a piece of toast, and
fiddled with my Keurig for a cup of coffee.

Once it was properly doused with sugar and

creamer, I took a sip and bit into my toast, enjoying
them both as I wandered back to the entryway and
fired back up my phone.

Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
I frowned.
I had like a gazillion messages. Before I had a

chance to check any of them, my phone began to
ring.

Elle’s picture and name lit up the faceplate.
A grin split my mouth.
I swallowed around the toast I was chewing,

quick to answer the phone, my tone playful and

light.

Apparently, it hadn’t taken me all that much to

decide which side I’d landed on.

I was thankful.
Thankful I got the experience.
The memories.
I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
“Hey, hooker,” I said, “You better have a good

explanation for last night. For real…all the details,
and they’d better be good.”

Knowing Elle, it would be all kinds of good.
Silence echoed from the other end, and then

Elle’s voice came on, almost incredulous. “You’re
seriously calling me hooker right now?”

I paused. Frowned. Confused. “What?”
“Hello pot calling the kettle black. Who are you

and what did you do with my best friend?”

A twist of unease tightened in my chest. “What

are you talking about?”

“Tell me you didn’t sleep with Paxton Myles

last night.”

I gasped, my head shaking as I took a step back.

“How…how…?”

“Oh, God.” The words were low, coated with

worry. “Kay…you don’t know.”

That twist of unease grew into a cyclone of

anxiety. “You’re freaking me out. Tell me what
you’re talking about.”

Elle hesitated, then said, “I’ll be right over.”

“Elle,” I begged.
The line went dead.
I glanced at my phone. I had a ton of missed

calls from my mom and my sister, not to mention
the slew of texts from the two of them. That
anxiety churned and twisted when I saw I’d also
missed a bunch texts from a few of my co-workers
and acquaintances from the school where I worked.

People I rarely, if ever, spoke to outside of

school.

Dread balled at the base of my throat, and I

shuffled into my living room. The sheer drapes
pulled across the arcadia door glowed like fire. It
cast the rest of the room in warm blues and bright
shadows.

I leaned over the back of the couch and

reached for the remote I’d left sitting on the seat
cushion. My hands were shaking like crazy when I
clicked on the TV that had been set to mute.
Pointing the remote, I changed the channel,
because even though I didn’t want to believe it, I
knew.

I knew.
Still, I wasn’t prepared.
I wasn’t prepared in the least.
There were pictures.
Pictures in a little square box that kept popping

up above the reporter’s head. Playing out on a reel.
Paxton on the red carpet, looking like a million

bucks as he flashed that megawatt smile. Another
of him with his friend Philip.

But it was the ones of me that hooked my

breath on the lump at the base of my throat.

The first was one of me walking the red carpet,

looking so out of place, like a timid, plain mouse
who’d lost her way. The second was a fuzzy shot
taken in the hall outside the women’s restroom in
the hotel, my back pressed to the wall where
Paxton Myles’ big body concealed mine.

The reporter’s mouth moved a million miles a

minute as he waved his hands in excitement, even
though I couldn’t hear what he said.

Even if the volume had been turned up, I’m still

not sure I would have heard. Because a low buzz
started to hum in my ears, obliterating all senses
except for what my eyes were forced to see.

Because the first two weren’t what brought on

the rush of horror.

No.
It was the ones of me outside Paxton’s

Hollywood Hills mansion from this morning. Shots
of me as I strode down the drive through the slots
of the wrought iron fence, though they somehow
made me appear as if I was limping, my shoulders
slack with shame.

There were more of me climbing up and

jumping over the gate.

They’d obviously been snatched from a

distance. The pictures were cropped to bring me
nearer and were a little grainy.

But that didn’t matter.
Because they were so utterly clear.
My hair was even worse than I’d imagined, a

matted mess on one side and poofed up on the
other, my dress twisted and wrinkled, black
mascara smeared around my eyes.

Barefoot.
For some reason, that seemed the worst.
Nausea swelled.
I didn’t know why, but there was something

about it that made me look used up. Cheap and
trashy.

I glanced back where my heels had been

abandoned on the floor just inside my front door,
toppled in a messy pile.

Why the hell didn’t I put on those damned

shoes?

What had I done?
My phone rang again.
Almost numb, I lifted it to see who was calling.

My mother’s sweet face was smiling back at me.

Without a doubt, she wasn’t smiling right now.
What had I done?
Knees feeling wobbly and weak, I mindlessly

moved around to the front of the couch and sank
down onto the cushions. In horror, I sat there and
watched in silence as the same thing played out

over and over again on my television, different
reporters piping in, giving their own salacious
opinion.

My private life nothing less than entertainment.
What had I done?
I dropped my face into my hands. I didn’t even

realize I was crying until my shoulders started to
heave up and down.

How much time had passed before there was

banging on my door, I didn’t know, but I jolted with
the impatient rattle of the knob, a key shoved into
the lock.

The door flew open and knocked into the wall.
Warily, I looked that way over the back of the

couch.

Elle stood there in all her glory, holding a big

paper sack to her chest, my best friend a blur where
I watched her through bleary eyes.

“Holy shit, Kay Kay. What have I always said?

If you’re going to do it, do it big. You sure as hell
knocked it out of the park.”

Elle emerged from my small kitchen wielding two
glasses of red wine. She passed one to me. “To
taking life by the balls and making it your bitch.”

My laugh was part incredulous, part scoff.

“Pretty sure life’s making me its bitch right about
now.”

“Pssh.” Elle waved the thought off and curled

her legs up underneath her where she sat down next
to me on the couch. She took a sip of her wine,
narrowing her brown eyes as she searched my
expression. “Don’t tell me last night wasn’t
amazing. I mean, we’re talking Paxton Myles here.
One of the most sought-after bachelors in all of
Hollywood. And you snagged him.”

I lifted a brow. “Shagged, not snagged. He

doesn’t belong to me.”

Elle almost spit out a mouthful of wine. She

slammed her hand over her mouth to hold it in,
laughing so hard I couldn’t help but laugh a little
bit, too. She finally got the wine down, her words
rambling out on jutted spurts of laughter. “Oh my
God…did you actually just say shagged?”

I shrugged. “What?”
“It’s not 1950.”
I pointed at the TV that was, surprise, surprise,

once again talking about Paxton and my illicit
affair. “They sure seem to think so.” I scowled
with a pout. “You’d think I stole Paxton’s
virginity.”

Elle howled. “Yeah right. That boy has been

around the block more times than I can count.”

Ouch. I chose to ignore the insinuation.
Elle gestured to the TV. “But you know how

these assholes are going to play it… no name girl
tries to sink her greedy claws into Hollywood

heartthrob.” She touched her hand over her heart,
the words dripping sarcasm.

“Oh, the scandal. The vultures are going to eat

that one up.”

I cringed.
Vultures.
Just like Paxton had warned.
I guessed he’d been right all along.
Elle winced when she realized what she’d said.

“Sorry. You know that’s not what I think.”

“I know that. But you know that’s what

everyone else is going to think.”

She gave me a shrug and a lascivious grin.

“Who cares what everyone else thinks? You got to
shag Paxton Myles.” With a grin playing all over
her mouth, she poked me in the side. “Tell me how
it was…are the rumors true? Heard the boy is
packed and he’s a king in the sack.”

I could feel the redness crawl to my cheeks. I

shook my head, diverting. “Eww…Elle…so crass.
And why don’t you tell me where you were last
night?”

She scoffed. “Oh, no. You’re not getting out of

this one. My pretty much prude of a best friend
spent all last night doing all kinds of dirty, delicious
deeds with the Paxton Myles. You can’t go and
hook up with one of the hottest guys on the planet
and not dish the details. That’s like…best friend
foul number one. Don’t go and break my heart.”

More redness.
She prodded me again. “Tell me.”
“Okay, okay…he was…”
“Yes…?” she drew out.
I slanted my attention her direction, and my

voice went soft. “He owned me, Elle.”

Elle’s expression did the same, and she tilted

her head as she touched my hand. “Hey…are you
okay? I know this has to be a lot for you. You’re
not exactly the love ’em and leave ’em type. I’m
honestly kind of shocked.”

Yeah.
So was I.
I dropped my gaze to watch the deep red liquid

swirl in my wine glass. “I’ll be fine. It was just…it
was supposed to be one night. Between him and
me. Private. It was a big deal to me, and now the
entire world is talking about it like it’s
entertainment. It’s…embarrassing.”

Wrong.
Humiliating.
Mortifying.
I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.
And people needed to learn to mind their own

damned business.

She patted my knee. “It’ll blow over, Kay Kay.

You’ll see. Give it a couple days and no one will
even remember it. Paxton will be back to being a
player, and you’ll be back to being the old

schoolmarm who never sees any action.”

She winked at me, and I slugged at her arm.

“That’s not nice.”

She rubbed her arm. “And that hurt.”
“Good.”
My phone lit up with another call from my

mother, and I cringed as I held it in my hand, letting
it ring until it went to voicemail.

Elle inclined her head toward it. “Seriously,

Kaylee…give it a couple of days. It’ll all be good. I
promise.”

I could only hope she was right.

Chapter 8

PAXTON

MORNING

SUN

ASSAULTS

, and I barely manage

to crack an eye open before the pounding in my
head starts. A pleasureful ache had settled into my
muscles, surely from the hours of wild sex Kaylee
and I indulged in just hours ago.

I can still smell her on my skin and selfishly I

need more.

Want more.
With a pillow over my face, I extend an arm to

pull her closer, wanting to brush my fingers across
her soft, fair skin…wanting to pull her underneath
me for another go at it this morning.

Morning sex.
The sure-fire way to cure a hangover.
I reach farther across the bed, looking for her,

and come up empty handed. Flinging the pillow
from my face, I sit up quickly, noticing my abs are

deliciously tender from having my way with Kaylee
last night.

I quietly listen for any sign of Kaylee. I listen

for the shower, but it isn't running, and I don't hear
movement from the kitchen.

I search for her clothes on the floor, or her

phone on the nightstand, and come up with nothing
—she's gone. Her absence is immediately
noticeable. Disappointment washes over me at the
thought of her leaving—without a goodbye—
without even a phone number.

It's then I hear the dull buzz of a phone. Instead

of bothering to find it, I throw myself back on the
bed and cover my face with the pillow again,
ignoring it. I'm not ready to deal with reality when
all I want to do is be lost in Kaylee.

Closing my eyes, I succumb to the memories of

Kaylee last night…on top of me, under me, and in
front of me. On all fours, on her back, and with her
legs wrapped tightly around me.

We tried damn near every position and every

single one of them was my favorite—or maybe it
was just her. She made me feel things I've never felt
before—and I fucking loved it. I need more of it.
Sex with Kaylee is like a drug. I'm dying for my
next fix.

My mouth waters as I remember how she

tasted.

That neck.

Those breasts.
Her pussy.
I'll never forget how my tongue explored every

inch of her soft, sweet body. My skin tingles as I
remember how my fingers touched every inch of
her.

I try to doze off, shrugging off the

disappointment her absence has left, but the damn
buzzing of my phone won't let me. It's when the
doorbell rings over and over that I force myself out
of bed. Twisting a sheet around my waist, I shuffle
down the hallway to the door.

“Hold on,” I mumble as I approach. Through

the peephole, I can see the stick straight dark hair
and bright red lips that can only belong to Kendall.
Fuck.

“Morning, Kendall!” I smile as I open the door

and step back to let her in. I run my hands through
my wild hair and wait for her reaction.

She steps inside, her long legs covered in

leather pants, and an oversized sheer white shirt
covers her tan skin. An arm full of bangle bracelets
make all kinds of fucking annoying racket as her
heels click on the floor, causing my head to pound
even harder.

With her cell phone pressed to her ear, I can

hear copious amounts of yelling on the other end.
She remains calm, which tells me she's dealing with
another client issue.

Thank God.
But, it's when she turns toward me that I see the

look in her eye. The look I've seen more than a
couple times when she's bailing me out of the
bullshit I drag her ass into. The look that says I'm
fucking dead meat. The look that tells me I better
get my shit together—and fast.

Finally pulling her phone from her ear, she just

looks at me. I'm not sure if it's disappointment,
disgust, or hatred. It's a look I've seen all too often
from her, though, and I hate that look.

“What in the ever-loving fuck were you

thinking?” she barks at me as she shoves her phone
into her back pocket.

I sigh exaggeratedly. “What, Kendall? I'm a

grown man. I can bring a woman home if I want
too.” I don’t know how Kendall even keeps me as a
client. I swear, this is my excuse every time. I
mean, what am I supposed to say? I shouldn't have
to have an excuse to get laid every now and then. A
man has needs.

Her eyes are so narrow I can barely make out

the color of her irises. “Have you even turned on
the television, Pax?” She points to the large
television that sits on the wall in my den.
“Whatever her name is, was seen crawling over
your fence this morning. They have pictures of her,
Pax, climbing…over…your…fence…in a dress.
Who is she?” Her voice is high-pitched and fast.

She wants answers, and my brain is moving at the
speed of a snail in molasses right now.

“Calm the fuck down,” I tell her and walk

toward the den where I throw myself onto the
oversized sectional, reaching for the remote
control. Pushing a few buttons, the TV roars to life
and, sure as shit, there is Kaylee…black dress, bare
feet, and wild hair, scaling my gates. I try to crack a
smile as I see her struggle to get over. God, she’s
beautiful.

“Who. Is. She. Pax?” Kendall asks bitterly,

following me into the room. I don't even know how
to answer all the questions she's asking me, nor
does she deserve an answer. Kaylee isn’t her
business. She slams her hand down on the sofa
table to get my attention.

“Who is she? How did you meet her? Are you

dating? How do you know her?” She pulls her
phone from her pocket as it vibrates wildly in her
hand. “Give me some goddamn answers, Pax! I
have every fucking media outlet in the United
States and half of them from Europe blowing up my
phone. They want a statement. They want to know
if America’s most eligible bachelor is off the
market, and I don’t even know this bitch’s name!”
she yells at me. “And for the love of God, put some
fucking clothes on.”

She rolls her eyes at me and steps away to take

the call that’s coming in.

I don't care about clothes right now. All I care

about is right there on my television set. Kaylee.
Her picture scrolling across the television.

Mystery woman.
Escort.
Who is she?
My stomach flips when I see a breaking news

banner begin flashing before my eyes.

Mystery solved! Kaylee Burton. Kindergarten

teacher, it reads.

They know who she is. The sudden urge to

protect Kaylee from this mess takes over. She didn't
want this life. She didn't ask for this. My selfish ass,
wanting her—needing her—brought her into this.

“Fuck!” I yell, jumping from the couch,

hurrying down the hall to my bedroom in search of
my phone. Tossing clothes left and right, I finally
find my pants. Reaching into the pocket, I find my
phone and a slew of texts and calls from Kendall,
Philip, and even my sister.

I scroll through my contacts, hoping like hell I

was gentleman enough to at least get Kaylee's
contact information before sticking my dick in her
—but nope.

“Fuck!” I yell again in frustration. It's about all

I can conjure up right now. Slamming my bedroom
door closed, I drop the sheet I have tied around my
waist and head to the shower. Some hot water and
peace and quiet is exactly what I need to figure out

what in the hell I need to do.

Kendall can't save me from this one—hell, I

don't want her too. I don't need saving, I need to
find Kaylee. I need to make this right. I step into
the glass encased shower, allowing the steam to fill
my lungs and the hot water to prick my skin.

Water stings the light scratches on my back

from Kaylee and every muscle is gloriously sore
from last night's marathon of sex. No woman has
ever had me tied up in knots like this, and I almost
chuckle as I think about how one wild night turned
into one fucking nightmare.

Chapter 9

KAYLEE

DIDN

’

SLEEP

How could I?
Exhaustion warred with the paranoia, a dueling

duo that churned in the pit of my stomach.
Clutching the steering wheel, I peered out at the
small private school in front of me from where I
was parked in the staff lot.

You can do this.
It was the same pep talk I’d been giving myself

since I’d finally dragged myself from the fitful
tossing of my bed and into the shower.

Yesterday I’d decided to ignore all the calls and

texts that had come in from my co-workers,
demanding to know what happened.

I figured it was all just morbid curiosity,

anyway. Fodder for water cooler gossip. None of
their business. So, when my phone continued to

ding and ring throughout the day, I’d switched it off
and opted for a day on the couch with my best
friend and a bottle of wine.

Okay, two.
Could anyone blame me?
Of course, my own morbid curiosity had set in

the second Elle had left me for the night with the
promise it would blow over. Quick to be forgotten.
But as soon as the quiet had set in, all the
implications had come barreling back. The things
the reporters had said and the insinuations they had
made.

So, what did I do? Because I’m just that much

of a masochist, I went and typed #PaxtonMyles
into my Twitter search.

That was the worst thing I could have done.
The cruel, vicious things complete strangers had

said about me had haunted me all night. You could
call it jealousy. The rabid fangirls who had so many
nasty things to say about me.

Just mean.
Not to mention hypocritical.
Because there was no doubt in my mind every

single one of them would have jumped at the
chance to kick me out of that spot.

I took one last glance in the rear-view mirror.
And cringed.
This morning, I had to look worse off than the

pictures had proclaimed when I’d been hopping

Paxton’s gate.

Nothing I could do about it now, and I needed

to get into my classroom to get things set up for the
beginning of the week.

Sucking in a deep breath, I grabbed my bag and

stepped out into the warm day, the California sun
bright and way cheerier than I felt. I tucked my
head and stared at my feet as I made a beeline for
my classroom.

I’d give it a good go to just hide until all of this

blew over.

I gasped when the large figure stepped out in

front of me, shadow eclipsing me, my body coming
to a jilted stop the flash of a second before I’d have
barreled right into him.

Steven Washington.
My boss.
The headmaster of Kensington Palisades.
That war that was going on in my stomach? It

plummeted right to the ground.

Swallowing around the huge knot in my throat,

I warily glanced up. His face was tight and grim, his
stance harsh.

“Ms. Burton, would you please come with me

to my office.”

I hesitated, stuttered over the words. “Uh…I

need to get to my classroom to get things—”

“It wasn’t a question, Ms. Burton.”
He didn’t wait for me to answer. He spun on his

heel without further word and headed toward the
front of the building. He moved through the side
door and into his big office filled with heavy dark
brown leather chairs and even darker furniture.

He gestured to a chair facing his desk as he

sank into his leather office rocker. “Have a seat.”

Unsteadily, I lowered myself to the seat, sitting

just on the edge, clutching my bag to my chest. I
couldn’t even meet his eye.

“Ms. Burton.”
He said it like a warning.
An omen.
And I just knew.
“I’m so sorry.” It came out on a strained gush

of apologetic air.

I could almost see him shaking his head,

resigned. “You know what a wonderful job you’ve
done for this school…”

No. No. No.
Don’t say it.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what you saw, but I

can assure you—”

“And I can assure you I saw enough.” Once

again, he cut me off.

Panicked, I turned tactic. “What I do with my

personal life doesn’t reflect on my ability as a
teacher.”

He sighed. “See…that is where you’re wrong,

Ms. Burton. Kensington Palisades has a reputation

to uphold as the premiere private school in the area,
and…well…it seems you’ve gained yourself your
own reputation this weekend.”

Horror latched onto my chest, and he just

continued on, “I fielded calls all weekend from
concerned parents…worried about what kind of
influence you are on their kindergartners. I’m sorry,
but that is not the type of concern we as a school
can shoulder nor overlook.”

“What are you saying?” The words spilled out.

Harsh and desperate.

“I’m saying we are going to have to let you go.”
Devastation bottled in my chest, and I struggled

for a breath. “But my kids,” I pled.

“Are no longer your concern. We’ve called in a

substitute until we can find a permanent
replacement.”

I blinked. Dazed. “Sir.”
I could feel him shaking his head. His voice

softened. “I’m sorry, Kaylee. I am. I like you, and
you’re a good teacher. But my bottom line is this
school and its well-being. You know as well as I do
how difficult these parents are to please. And with
something as public as this…” he trailed off, letting
the rest hang in the air.

I nodded my head.
I wasn’t sure it was in acceptance, because

really, I couldn’t process anything.

Nothing but this nagging regret.

A quiet devastation.
“Kirk will show you to your office so you can

gather your things and escort you out.”

Disoriented, I nodded again, stumbled to my

feet. My eyes moved to the security guard already
waiting at the door.

Oh. God.
A wave of sadness hit me.
How could this be happening? My entire life,

the only thing I’d ever wanted to be was a teacher,
and I’d destroyed that dream with one reckless
mistake.

Humiliated, I studied my feet. The pile of the

carpet. The tiny fleck of paper. Anything but the
pity on the old man’s face who I considered my
friend. I shuffled his way.

“Let’s get your things, Ms. Burton,” he said so

quietly I could barely hear, though there was no
missing the sympathy that was woven into it.

“Okay.”
Kirk set a box on my desk, and I loaded it with

the few things that actually belonged to me. A
picture of me with my family, a few drawings the
kids had done for me, my planner.

“All done,” I said, offering Kirk a feeble smile

that was so entirely forced I was fairly certain my
face might crack with the strain of it.

That was when another rush of sadness came

swooping in.

Binding to my heart.
I followed him out into the hall where children

were beginning to arrive. I could feel the burn of
the parents’ stares, those who had shunned and
shamed me because of one night.

I tried to ignore the snickers and hushed

conversations that weren’t so hushed that I
couldn’t hear.

Slut.
Gold digger.
Tramp.
Seriously, was this 1972?
Kirk led me all the way out to my car. “Take

care of yourself now, Kaylee Rose. Don’t let none
of this get to you. You’re a good girl. All of us
smart ones know it, too. It’ll all work out. Just wait.
But I’m sure gonna miss you ’round here.”

I wished he were right.
That Elle had been right.
That it’d just blow over.
Forgotten in days.
But they were so utterly wrong.
I slumped down in my car and started the

engine, quick to leave the lot because I couldn’t
stand the stares for a second more. I drove the
twenty minutes to my condo.

Halfway home, I had to send yet another call

from my mother to voicemail.

Then I turned around and tortured myself with

her message.

Tears streaked down my face as I listened to her

words.

Kaylee Rose, call me, baby girl. Your face is

all over the place and all the neighbors are
calling, asking questions, looking for something
else to add to the gossip. I need to know that
you’re okay. I’m all the way across the country,
and I don’t know if you’re okay. Please call me.

I deleted her message, whispered into my car,

“No, Mama, I’m not okay.”

Because one wild night had turned into my

worst nightmare.

Of course, that nightmare only got worse when

I pulled up to my townhouse.

Paparazzi.
Everywhere.
Emotion knotted up everywhere.

Embarrassment. Sadness. And anger.

Anger.
Suddenly, there was a whole lot of that.
How dare they take my picture without my

knowing? How dare these parents take the most
important thing away from me—their children? My
job and my future and my career.

My joy.
How dare Paxton Myles chase me all night until

I succumbed to his charms?

How dare HE?!

Somewhere deep inside I knew it was just as

much my fault as it was his. I’d made the choice,
and God, it’d been just about the best night I’d ever
had.

But was it worth the price?
Regret pressed at my chest.
Not even close.
I ducked my head, praying the photographers

would just let me be, and pulled into my spot. I
didn’t sit and wait or catch my breath.

I bolted out of the door with my key in my

hand, ran across the parking lot, and fumbled to
shove the key into the lock.

At the same second, I was surrounded. Lights

flashed and questions fired. A barrage of voices
pummeled me left and right.

Kaylee, can you tell me about your

relationship with Paxton Myles.

Are you dating Paxton Myles, Ms. Burton?
Is it true you are an aspiring actress?
Can you comment on being released from your

position at Kensington Palisades?

Kaylee.
Kaylee.
Kaylee.
It all became a buzz of horror in my ears. I

finally got the door open and stumbled into the dim
light inside. Gasping for a breath, I slammed the
door shut behind me.

Thankfully, all the drapes were drawn over the

windows to keep out the light, not to mention the
outside intrusion and speculation.

I pressed my back to the door. Trying to calm

my racing heart. Trying to shove off the panic and
to slow the quickly settling dread as I fully began to
process what fooling around with a Hollywood god
had cost me.

That gorgeous, Greek god.
The man with a wicked smile and a perfect

touch.

It had cost me everything.
I dragged myself to the couch and slumped

down on it, fighting the tears that burned at my
eyes, wishing there was a way to drown out
everything. To go back and change the decision I’d
made.

But there was no escape.
Because throughout the day, the doorbell

continued to ring.

Anger and frustration and sorrow burned in my

blood, ramping into irritation and anxiety. My
nerves shot, and my stomach in a million knots.

When it rang again, I’d had enough.
I’d had enough of the prying.
Enough of the intrusion.
With my hands balled in fists, I stomped to the

front door and threw it open, a slew of profanities
poised on my tongue, because I refused to cower

and hide.

Then everything froze. All except for my heart

that took off at a sprint.

Because standing at my door was none other

than Paxton Myles.

Chapter 10

PAXTON

KNUCKLES

STING

from beating on this door for the

last five minutes, but I'll be damned if I'm going
anywhere until she opens it. I refuse to glance over
my shoulder at those heathens trying to get another
shot of Kaylee with their cameras.

“Pax, can you tell us the status of your

relationship with Kaylee Burton?” one reporter
from a tabloid television show hollers from behind
me.

“Can you confirm if she was fired from her job

at Kensington Palisades as it's been reported?”
another yells.

“Open the fucking door, Kaylee,” I mumble to

myself as I rap on the door again, this time with
more force…more desperation. I lean forward, my
head hanging in defeat as another reporter hollers
an inaudible question from behind me.

A gush of cool air assaults me as the front door

flies open and, when I lift my head, my heart stops
as Kaylee stands stunned in the open doorway.

“Kay,” I say quietly, hoping she'll let me in. The

reporters behind us go nuts, yelling questions, while
cameras click wildly, trying to get a glimpse at the
both of us.

“Can I come in?”
She stares at me, tears hanging heavy in those

beautiful eyes of hers. She nods and steps aside,
and I carefully push her out of the way before
shutting the door, leaving the world outside.

“Why are you here?” she asks, her voice

breaking as she swipes at the tears that finally
began to fall. I want to pull her into me and hold
her, smell her. Just feel her. I need to feel her.

“Why did you leave the other morning?” I take

a careful step toward her, giving her space, but
closing a bit of the distance between us.

“Because I didn't want this.” She flings her arm

toward the door and the chaos just outside it. “Pax,
I had a great time…I didn't want to leave, but you
and I—” Her voice breaks, and she looks down to
her feet.

“You and I what, Kaylee?”
“We're from two different worlds. I'm a

kindergarten teacher…well, was a kindergarten
teacher. You're a Hollywood hunk—”

I scoff at that remark.

“What? You are,” she continues. “We got

caught up in a wild night and the last thing I wanted
was for it to affect your career…or mine.”

She pushes past me, and I hate the feeling of

her fleeing from me. She tosses herself down on her
couch and pulls a pillow tightly into her lap. “What
have we done?” she says quietly. “What have I
done?” she corrects herself, placing the blame on
herself.

I'll be damned if I'm going to let her do that,

take the blame.

I take a deep breath and walk across her living

room toward her. She looks up at me, those
beautiful eyes marred in red, her cheeks splotchy
from crying.

“Stand up,” I order her and hold out my hand

for her to take. She hesitates, dropping her eyes to
my waiting hand. “Come on, Kaylee,” I encourage
her. She swallows hard and tosses the pillow from
her lap onto the couch next to her.

With a shaky hand, she reaches for mine, her

soft fingers sliding into the palm of my hand. I
gently tug her closer to me when she stands up,
finally getting her where she belongs—next to me. I
brush my thumb across her damp cheek, wiping
away any remaining tears.

“You didn't do anything wrong. I didn't do

anything wrong. What we did, we did together,” I
start. I brush a stray piece of hair off her forehead.

“What we did wasn't wrong.” I pull her closer,
snaking my arm around her waist. “What we did I
enjoyed…and I want to do it again.”

I feel her tense at my admission, and my

stomach flips. What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm
not an 'admit your feelings' kind of guy, and I'm
pretty sure I just scared the shit out of her.

“Or, we can—”
“I'm scared,” Kaylee cuts me off.
“Of what?”
“Of getting hurt. Of them.” She points toward

her door and the barbarians outside, trying to get
the next big headline.

“Fuck them,” I tell her, anger bubbling beneath

the surface. I fucking hate the paparazzi, but I
know how to deal with them. She doesn't. “And I
can't promise you that you won't get hurt, but I can
promise that I'll do everything in my power to make
sure it doesn’t happen.”

“But—”
“Come with me, Kaylee.” It's not really a

question, or a demand…but it's me laying it all out
there. My eyes beg her to come with me. I need her
with me. I need her to give this, us, a chance. She
pulls her lips between her teeth and contemplates
my question.

“I'm leaving for London tonight. I have press

junkets and a foreign film premiere, and I want you
there with me. I want you at my side for all of this.”

“What?”
“You heard me.”
Confusion moves across her brow. “Why, Pax?”
“Because I like you, Kaylee. Because I like us

together. Because—I don't know, something just
clicks with us. It’s easy, and natural, and I like it. I
like you.” I shrug a shoulder, feeling like a little
bitch for putting it all out there. But isn't that what
women want? Honesty?

I can see her fighting the small smile pulling at

the corner of her lips. “I mean, what do you have
lose, Kay?”

And look at me with my nickname for her

already. If Philip was here, he'd take my man card
and light in on fire.

“Everything.” She sighs and retreats, pulling

herself away from me.

“Seems like you already have.” I realize what a

dick I sound like when those words fall from my
lips. “Let’s see what you can find. There's a whole
world out there—let me show it to you.”

“This is crazy,” she whispers and looks around

her condo. “I can't just leave with you. I mean, I
have to find a job. I need to figure out my life.”

“There's no better time to take a little break,

Kaylee. You have no responsibilities right now.
There's nothing keeping you here. Come with me.
Let the press settle down a bit here before you start
looking for a new job. Plus, who's going to hire a

teacher in the middle of the school year?”

“I hope someone will!” she shrieks. “I need

money. I can't just gallivant around the world with
you, Pax. I can't afford Europe.”

“You're not paying for it, it's included in the

film’s press budget. It's two weeks, Kaylee. Just
come with me. Give me two weeks.”

She presses her fingers to her temples and rubs

them in small circles.

“I promise you, it'll be worth it.” I'm doing a

lousy job of trying to convince her. I'm practically
begging her. I'm about ready to revoke my own
man card, shit.

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Worth it for who?” she says, and I inwardly cringe
at her remark.

“For both of us. Let's get to know each other

better.”

“Two weeks?” she asks and drops her hands to

her side. I can see her brain ticking away inside her
beautiful head.

“Just two weeks. Take this time to map out your

next move.” I take a few steps closer to her. “Take
this time to get to know me better.” I take a few
more steps.

“What if I don't like you?” She smirks and

props her hands on her hips.

“Then I'll send you home on a plane earlier.” I

loop my arms through the opening of hers and pull

her to my chest. “But I promise, you're not going to
want to go home early.” I pull her into a hug.

“You're really cocky, aren't you?” she says

against my chest.

“I like to call it confident. I'm really confident.”

I laugh at her.

“Call it what you want.” She exhales in

resignation, and I know I have her.

“How long do I have to pack?” She looks up at

me.

I yank my phone from my pocket to check the

time. “You have forty minutes.”

She pulls herself from my embrace and begins

frantically running up the stairs of her condo.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she hollers as she
disappears up the stairs. I smile. If I could pat
myself on the back, I would. Kaylee is coming to
Europe with me.

My phone vibrates in my hand, and my

euphoria is short lived when Kendall's name flashes
across my screen.

“Kendall,” I answer quietly and walk to the

kitchen, as far away from the stairs as possible in
hopes that Kaylee doesn't hear Kendall screaming
through the phone.

“What in the ever-loving hell are you doing at

that woman's house? Do you know it's on CNN
right now? You are on goddamn CNN right now.”

I sigh loudly into the phone. “I needed to make

things right.”

“That is not your goddamn job, that's mine,”

she screams at me. “Your job is to get your ass on
that airplane in two-hours, your butt in the seat, and
not talk to anyone. Do not talk to the press. Do not
talk to your mother. Do not talk to ANYONE!
Leave that goddamn house and that woman, get in
your car, and get to the motherfucking airport. Do
you understand me?”

“Ten-four.” I end the call and smile to myself.

That was one of Kendall's more epic meltdowns. I
cannot wait to see what she says when she sees
Kaylee's butt in the seat next to mine. I actually
laugh out loud and brace myself all at the same
time.

Chapter 11

KAYLEE

“O

…two…three…go!”

Paxton gripped my hand even tighter as he

darted out my front door. I clamored down the
steps behind him, praying the lock on my
townhouse actually caught because we weren’t
taking the time to make sure.

He made a beeline for a car parked across the

lot. My huge suitcase he wheeled behind him with
the opposite hand barely slowed us down.

I’m sure we made quite the sight.
What, with our heads down and our feet

pounding across the pavement as if we were
making a break for it.

We were.
And it was all caught on tape.
Of course, it was because the vultures had gone

nowhere. They’d only gathered. As if they’d

smelled blood and were circling overhead, just
waiting for the right moment to dive in and take a
good bite.

Oh wait, that was actually a helicopter.
Voices shouted, a slew of them vying to be the

one to grab our attention. To get that one picture
that would completely make their day.

As if this wasn’t enough.
Lights flashed.
Click. Click. Click.
Paxton Myles!
Paxton!
Mr. Myles, can you confirm your relationship

with Kaylee Rose Burton?

Kaylee…over here…is it true you’re starring

with Paxton in his next film that begins filming
next month?

Were they serious right now? That alone was

almost enough to make me stop and set things
straight, but Paxton had given me strict instructions
before we’d made our getaway.

Don’t look up.
Don’t answer.
RUN.
Paxton pressed a button on his key fob, and the

trunk to a black car with even darker windows
bounced open. He tossed in my suitcase and shut it
just as fast. He moved even faster when he ran me
around to the passenger side and hurried me in.

I’d barely blinked by the time he was sliding

into the front seat and slamming shut his door.
Frantic, he pressed a button to click the locks.

The sound of them engaging had us both

breathing a sigh of relief, but adrenaline was still
pounding through my veins.

Over the console, he looked across at me, his

ridiculously handsome face cut in concern. Silence
washed over us, his hands kneading on the leather
of the steering wheel.

Our eyes met. Intense. Relieved. Searching for

an answer for what in the hell we thought we were
doing.

Then we both busted out laughing.
“Well, then,” he said as he started the car,

threw it in reverse, and backed out. He barely
slowed as the paparazzi scattered, cameras pressing
close to the windows to try to capture a blurry
image.

“So, I’m totally getting the smoked-out

windows now.”

He chuckled, shifting into drive, the vantage

definitely giving the scavengers the shot they were
aiming for. “It’s kind of a requirement for my line
of work.”

I seriously didn’t know how any person could

tolerate this kind of life. It was bad enough when I
attended parties with Elle, the intrusiveness of the
lenses. But even Elle was able to go back to her

daily life without worrying someone was capturing
something private.

I couldn’t imagine dealing with this every single

day.

Tires squealed when he hit the street, and he

accelerated quickly, the whine of the engine loud as
he gunned it, shifting gears faster than I could make
sense of it

Clearly, he’d mastered the whole escape artist

thing because he was weaving in and out of traffic,
leaving no chance we’d been followed.

I sat back in the seat, finally allowing myself to

take in my surroundings. My fingertips traced over
the red stitching on the red and black leather, all the
luxury and flash. “This car is ridiculous.”

Those brown eyes brimmed with mischief when

he glanced my way. “What…you don’t like my
Maserati? We can stop back at the house and grab a
different car if it’s not to your liking.”

“Of course, we can,” I mumbled under my

breath.

He laughed. “You are a hard woman to please,

Kaylee Rose. Here I was, being nothing but a
considerate gentleman when I picked the one car in
my garage I thought maybe was as pretty as you.”

I swatted at his shoulder. “Oh, the charmer as

always, Mr. Myles, rushing over to the castle of the
damsel in distress to rescue her from certain
demise.”

A grin split his face. “At your service, ma’am.”
I swatted him again. “You’re not allowed to do

that.”

“Do what,” he defended innocently, but there

was absolutely nothing innocent about what was
playing out in his eyes.

“Oh, don’t do what me, mister. You know

exactly what I’m talking about.” I waved an
overindulgent hand his way. “The accent…the
face…the smile. Don’t act like you don’t use them
to your benefit.”

He shrugged, grinned as he changed lanes again

and accelerated as he took to the freeway. “What?
A smart man uses any resources he has in his
arsenal.”

A pout pulled at my mouth. “Which is

completely unfair if your opponent has absolutely
nothing to stand up against them.”

My mouth dropped open when he reached out

and cupped my face. Tingles spread beneath his
touch, and my stomach did about fifteen backflips.
Of course, it had to settle right into the nausea from
earlier, humiliation and defeat rising to the surface.

My voice dropped. “What are we doing,

Paxton?”

I’d just been fired from my job that had been

my entire life, had been hounded by paparazzi, and
had been publicly shamed and ridiculed.

And now I was running off to Europe with the

man who was the root of the problem.

A Greek god who owned the screen and

commanded every audience. One who was sought
after and adored.

My free card.
Funny, considering it’d cost me everything.
There wasn’t anything free about it.
His thumb brushed softly under the hollow of

my eye, catching the moisture I hadn’t even
realized had gathered there. “We’re stealing you
away from all of this.”

I shook myself out of his hold and sat back in

my seat. “That doesn’t mean it’s not all going to be
waiting for me when I get back.”

“You’re right, Kaylee Rose. I’m not sure even I

have the power to erase what happened this
morning.” The seriousness in his tone shifted, and a
smirk went skating onto his mouth. “But I’m sure
as hell going to make sure it’s worth it.”

Bewildered, I stumbled along beside Paxton as he
strode through the international terminal at LAX.
My suitcase had been checked and his apparently
had been handled.

Must be nice.
Okay, I had to admit this was a little bit nice. I’d

be nothing but a liar if I said it didn’t feel nice with
my hand firmly locked to his as we made our way

down the long hall toward our gate.

“Right on time.” He flashed me a grin.
“Doesn’t the flight leave in like fifteen

minutes?”

“Exactly. There’s no use getting here and

having to sit around for two hours. That’s simply
ridiculous.”

“Says the guy who walks into a building packed

with people and the waters part for him. I’ve never
made it through security that fast…ever…even
when I was returning after visiting my aunt in
Kentucky and there was one person in front of me.
And this is an international flight.”

He lifted our entwined hands and brushed a soft

kiss along the back of mine. A shiver tickled down
my spine.

How did he manage that?
“Let’s just call them the perks of being

famous.” He lifted a brow. Mischief danced in
those warm brown eyes. “You witnessed some of
the drawbacks back at your place today. What do
you say we enjoy some of the advantages”

A short chuckle rolled up my throat. “That I

did. I’m really not sure how you handle that part of
this life.”

He shrugged. “You get used to it. After a little

while, it’s little more than irritating.”

In his pocket, his phone rang again, just like it’d

been doing the last hour it’d taken us to get here.

And just like then, he merely ignored it and let it go
to voicemail.

One second later, it pinged with yet another

new message.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t answer that?”
This time both of his brows lifted, and his

mouth quirked in a way that was so endearing I had
the urge to pop up on my toes and press a kiss to
his mouth. So I did.

A lick of fire.
His hand gripped the side of my waist, and he

gave me a squeeze.

His phone pinged again.
“That is yet another drawback,” he said with an

exasperated sigh. That accent. It slipped out on the
last, this time genuine. This time it wasn’t used as a
wicked tool to charm off my panties.

I figured the fact I was leaving the country with

him pretty much guaranteed I was a sure thing.

God, I hoped so.
It rang again.
“It could be important,” I countered.
He laughed. Almost both incredulous and

affectionate. “Oh, I’m sure in her mind she thinks
it’s very important.”

It was instant, the bolt of unease that shocked

through me.

She?
I wanted to ask. I had the right to, didn’t I? But

I really had no clue what this trip really meant or
what I was getting myself into.

I hadn’t even called my mother or my sisters.

Even Elle didn’t know where I was.

What was I doing?
Paxton suddenly pushed me backward, edging

me back two steps and against the wall. My back
pressed into it as he pressed into me.

Hard.
All of him.
He buried his nose in my hair and inhaled a

deep, sharp breath. A sound of approval rumbled in
his chest. I trembled as he ran the tip of his nose
down the slope of my neck, shivered as he ran it
back up. He left a slow, seductive kiss behind my
ear.

The smolder turned molten. Hot and heated. An

ache pulsed between my thighs.

His voice was a whisper, “Are you trying to

freak out on me right now, Kaylee Rose?”

“I…I…uh…” I stuttered and stammered, trying

to regain my senses as his tongue flicked out for a
taste.

Oh. God.
That did not help.
“Do you think I can’t see the panic written all

over your face?” he murmured.

“I…”
“Are you thinking about bolting?”

“Um…”
I had completely lost the ability to form a

coherent thought as he continued to lave kisses
along my neck, as if we were on a secluded island
rather than right out in the open at the airport.

People were probably taking pictures. Posting

them to Instagram. Shaming me on Twitter.

#PaxtonMylesSlut
I didn’t even care.
“I really hope you don’t bolt on me, Kaylee

Rose. Want to know why?”

“Mmmhmmmmm.” It was all an incoherent

mumble beneath my breath.

What was that again?
“Because since the second I woke up and found

my bed empty yesterday morning, all I’ve been
thinking about is getting you back into it. Of ripping
your clothes from this gorgeous body. Kissing you
again. Tasting you again.”

A whimper.
“Don’t bolt, Kaylee…because when I get you

to London, I’m going to fuck you. Hard then slow.
Then I’m going to do it all over again. Don’t make
me chase you down this terminal and throw you
over my shoulder, because I will. Or maybe I
should take you into the executive club and give
you a reminder of just what you’d be missing?
How’s that sound?”

Oh, yes and please.

“Final boarding call for flight 6816 with direct

service to London Heathrow Airport…”

The overhead speaker broke into our little PDA

sesh. The wall barely kept me from falling to my
weakened knees when Paxton stepped back and
gave me one of those earth-shattering smiles. The
one that owned the screens and the hearts of the
millions of fans who adored him.

I was certain right then it was going to be the

one that crushed mine.

“Come on, before we miss our flight.”
We scanned our boarding passes on our phones,

and Paxton led me down the jetway. My heart beat
erratically, with confusion and need and the internal
whiplash this devastating man gave me.

A flight attendant greeted us at the door, and

Paxton led me about four steps down the aisle to
my seat.

First class.
Which was all kinds of ridiculous and luxurious

and looked more like some kind of futuristic space
pod than an airplane seat.

I settled down in the cozy space and stretched

out my legs, accepted the flute of mimosa I was
offered.

I allowed myself to sigh out a happy sigh.
After the insane day I’d had today, I was most

definitely not going to complain.

“Is it to your liking, Ms. Burton?” he asked.

Letting that southern charm come out to play, he
exaggerated the words.

“Why yes, it is, kind, sir.” A giggle escaped, and

I was leaning forward to retrieve his kiss. We both
froze when a low, enraged voice hit us like daggers.

“What the fuck is she doing here?”
Shocked, I looked up to find a woman glaring at

me with the fire of a thousand suns. She was out of
breath, as if she’d had to run to make the flight. A
long, dark bob bounced around her shoulders when
she turned the heat of her anger on Paxton.

He simply laughed and leaned back in his seat.

“Nice to see you, too, Kendall.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she hissed,

leaning his direction so only he could hear. Oh, but
I could. And maybe that’s what she intended. “I’ve
been calling you for the last two hours and Not. A.
Word. I drove back to your house in case you’d
fallen asleep. I almost missed this flight because
you were off picking this up? I’d think picking her
up once was enough, don’t you?”

In horror, I looked over at Paxton for help. Who

is this woman?

“Kaylee Rose, I’d like you to meet my favorite

pain in the ass, the woman who thinks she’s keeper
of my life, my publicist, Kendall Stone. He glanced
at her. “Kendall, meet Kaylee.”

Kendall sneered at me without saying a word.
Great.

Yet another member of the #KayleeIsASlut fan

club.

Apparently, I couldn’t win.

Paxton was fast asleep. He’d had his seat turned
into a bed, and for a few moments I allowed myself
to just look at him. That beautiful face was almost
as peaceful as it’d been when I’d snuck from his
room two mornings ago.

Pushing out a breath, I got up and headed

toward the small lavatory since I’d given up on
getting any rest.

The lights had been dimmed for the redeye, and

the narrow aisles were lit up in a path of lights to
guide the way, like their own miniature runway.
Only a few overhead lamps dotted the first-class
cabin, most of the passengers making use of the
time to sleep.

Locking the door behind me, I wet my face and

gave myself a moment to clear my head.

To make sense of the opposing feelings that

tumbled within me.

Excitement.
Heartbreak.
So contrary. But they were there.
Huffing out a cleansing breath, I unlatched the

door and stepped out into the dimness of the aisle.

I gasped at the figure standing there waiting for

me.

Dark, pin-straight hair. Hardened jaw. Flashing

eyes. Arms crossed over her chest.

I guess this #KayleeIsASlut fangirl was stalking

me now.

Awesome.
I touched my chest and forced a smile. “You

scared me, Kendall.”

Yeah, I called her by name even though I hadn’t

shared a word with her before. The only
introduction I’d gotten from her was a livid sneer
before she’d made her way to her seat three rows
behind us.

Red lips stretched in a smile that was pure

scorn. “Don’t you dare stand there and give me the
innocent act.”

I gulped around the knot that formed in my

throat. “I don’t know what I did to you, but I can
assure you—”

“What you did to me?” she interrupted. “Do

you know what my job is, Kaylee Rose?” Her tone
turned placating, as if I was dense and didn’t have
the capacity to understand.

I blinked. “You’re Paxton’s publicist.”
“Right…that’s my title. But do you know what

I actually do? I’m the trash keeper. The one who
comes in behind him to clean up all his messes. Do
you have any idea how many people try to get
close to him? Take advantage of who he is? All the

sluts and gold diggers and aspiring actresses who
will do absolutely anything to get close to him? It’s
my job to protect him from that. To keep him safe.”

“I would never—”
“Do you know how many of Paxton’s

playthings I’ve dealt with? I let him have his fun, he
gets his rocks off, and then I come in for the sweep.
And let’s just say that job keeps me plenty busy.
Paxton knows the game. Hell, he hired me for it.
But every once in a while…someone slips through
the cracks…someone who looks so innocent and
sweet, Paxton doesn’t have the first clue what she’s
really up to.”

Insecurity bubbled in my chest, and I fisted my

hands. “I’m not trying to take advantage of Pax. I
don’t want anything from him.”

She scoffed. “Then what are you doing here?”
“Spending time with him.”
Low laughter rocked from her throat, and she

edged forward. “Do you really think I’m that
stupid? That clueless? Maybe Paxton is, but the
truth of the matter is, he really doesn’t have to
worry about any of that, now does he? He doesn’t
have to deal with the consequences or the shit he
leaves behind it. No. That’s my job. And I’m
damned good at it.” She jabbed a red, manicured
finger into my chest. “Don’t think for a second
that’s going to change now.”

She turned on her heel and moved down the lit

pathway toward her seat. My hand shot out to keep
myself from falling, and I forced myself to pull in
deep breaths as I fought against the heartbreak that
came rushing in to blot out the excitement.

What the hell was I doing?
Did I really think this was a good idea?
That this would solve any of my problems?
So I liked Paxton.
Actually liked him.
That definitely didn’t change either of our

circumstances.

Kendall’s words spun through me. Do you

really think you’re any different?

Bitter laughter rushed up my throat. Maybe I

had.

With my head held low, I shuffled back to my

seat.

A small yelp left me when a hand snatched me

around the wrist. Warmth spread, and I was hauled
onto Paxton’s lap. He was sitting up, my legs
straddling his waist, my chest beating against his.

His insanely handsome face was barely visible

in the shadows, his voice rippling with the accent
that made my knees weak. “What the fuck did she
say to you?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to cause any trouble for

you Pax. I should just—”

“Fuck her.” He cut me off. “Fuck her and

whatever she told you or made you believe. Fuck

her for making you question coming with me. I
know she’s looking out for me, because that’s her
job, but she doesn’t always know what’s best for
me. She doesn’t always know what I want.”

My head shook. “You don’t even know me.”
The reality was, I could be one of those girls.

The premiere could have been a total set up. An
elaborate plan Elle and I had concocted to get me
close to the world’s most sought-after bachelor.

But it wasn’t. Our meeting hadn’t been

anything close to that.

Did that really matter to him or was this just

another mess he was all too happy to leave Kendall
to clean up?

He brushed the back of his fingers down my

cheek, then cupped them in his big, strong hands.
“No…you’re right, Kaylee Rose. I don’t. But I
want to. These press junkets—the premieres and
the parties—it gets so damned old, Kaylee. So old it
blurs and becomes another part of the job. This is
the first time I’ve been excited about one in years.”
He squeezed my face in emphasis. “Years. That’s
because of you. And I won’t let her take that
away.”

“Pax.”
His name came out so soft. In relief. In need. In

all the confusion that had become my life.

He edged forward. His words were nothing

more than a breath whispered near my mouth. “I

could make a call and have just about any woman
waiting in London for me, Kaylee Rose. But there’s
one I want. Only one I haven’t been able to get off
my mind.”

He leaned in, his mouth murmuring against the

sensitive flesh of my ear. “You.”

I panted. Actually damned panted at a single

word. Or maybe I was panting because of his body.
Because of his possessive grip or his cock that grew
hard and thick between us.

Oh, God.
I rocked against him, suddenly overcome with

the need for this man to touch me.

“Kaylee,” he murmured. His hands trailed

down over my shoulders, tracing my ribs, before
one hand was cupping my knee. He eased it up my
thigh and under my skirt.

I inched up a fraction to make him room, and I

bit down on my bottom lip when he dipped his
fingers beneath my underwear and slicked his
fingers through my folds. I buried a needy gasp in
his neck when he brushed my clit.

He edged back to capture my attention. “I think

you have the answer to every single one of those
questions running through that pretty little head of
yours right here, Kaylee Rose. Right here in this
sweet pussy that is begging for more.”

He pushed two fingers inside me, and my breath

caught.

“Tell me you want more,” he demanded.
“Yes.”
I wanted more. I wanted everything.
He kept us nose to nose, his breaths clouding

my senses as he lifted me higher and higher. My
fingers dug into his shoulders as pleasure gathered
fast, and part of me couldn’t believe what I was
doing.

On a plane.
But the part of me that’d agreed to follow him

to London didn’t care.

She was too caught up. Taken by this man in a

way she shouldn’t be.

And she was going to enjoy every second of it.
Pleasure rocketed through every inch of my

body. I buried a scream in his shoulder when I
came, riding wave after wave as he pressed a bunch
of kisses to my forehead.

I shivered, and this gorgeous man smirked as he

eased his fingers out of me, his sexy voice back to
murmuring in my ear. “Let’s go ahead and call that
another one of the perks.”

Chapter 12

PAXTON

ITH

SMALL

THUD

, our plane hits the ground in

London. I can't take my eyes off Kaylee, but her
eyes are glued to the new world outside the window
of the plane. Her fingers grip the edge of her seat as
her head bobs from side to side as we taxi to the
gate.

When she finally pulls her attention back inside

the plane, she turns to me with the biggest smile.
Sheer excitement is written on her face, and she all
but bounces excitedly in her seat.

“Ready?” I ask her as I unbuckle my seatbelt

before the chime tells me I can. She nods quickly,
unbuckling herself.

When the plane finally stops, I stand and

stretch, catching sight of Kendall over my shoulder,
her cell phone already pressed to her ear. She's
sending me a non-verbal warning, a stern message

with only her eyes as she has an entirely different
conversation with whomever she's speaking with on
the phone.

I gather Kaylee, pulling her in for a quick kiss

as we deplane. With her tucked closely to my side,
I don't bother to wait for Kendall. “Fair warning,” I
begin as we descend the jetway into the terminal.
“The paparazzi are just as bad here as they are in
L.A. They come out of nowhere and when you
least expect it. Don’t let your guard down, they’re
everywhere. Same rules apply. Don't say a word.
Don't make eye contact. Just move.”

“Got it.” She pulls me tighter to her, her fingers

pressing into my side. I hate that these vultures
won't leave us alone, and instinctively I want to
protect her from them. We're chauffeured into a
line that's shorter and more obscure for our
passport check—and I'm thankful for this. Kendall
has caught up to us but keeps her distance—though
I can feel her anger from ten feet away.

The passport check is quick, and we're on our

way to claim our baggage in no time. Kaylee's
fingers are laced through mine as we try to blend in
with the crowds of other travelers. It's hard not to
notice Kaylee's eyes darting from side to side,
checking out every person in our path. Her fingers
squeeze mine harder as the crowd lightens and we
become more visible.

As we arrive at baggage claim, Kenneth,

Kendall's 'right arm' in the UK, has all of our
baggage already on a cart and is waving us in his
direction.

“Paxton,” he says in his thick British accent,

offering me his hand to shake. “Good to see you,
man.” His handshake is firm and fast. Kenneth is
the epitome of professional. He’s direct, buttoned-
up and doesn’t play the bullshit games that Kendall
does.

“And this must be the lovely Kaylee.” He leans

in and air kisses both of her cheeks. She blushes but
offers him a courteous smile in return. “You two
have really made a splash the last forty-eight
hours,” he laughs, holding onto her hand. “I'm
Kenneth. Publicist extraordinaire on this side of the
pond. But don't get too excited. You'll never be rid
of her.” He nods his head over Kaylee's shoulder
just as we hear Kendall approach, her heels clicking
on the tile floor.

He smirks at Kendall who ignores him and

continues chatting away on her phone. “I see she's
still charming as ever,” he mumbles under his
breath as he rolls his eyes.

“Now that you're all here, I have a car waiting.

It's a shit show out there,” he huffs as he pushes the
luggage cart. “Head down. Walk fast. Don't take
any questions.”

“Pax already warned me,” Kaylee politely tells

Kenneth as we fall into line behind him.

“And here,” he reaches for a pair of sunglasses

he has tucked into his button up shirt. “Put these
on. You look like shit.” He shoves the sunglasses at
me as Kaylee giggles.

I slide the Ray Ban aviator glasses on and pull

Kaylee close to me as the large sliding glass doors
open and the assault of flashing lights and questions
begin.

“Paxton!”
“Pax!”
“Kaylee! We'd love an exclusive interview with

you!”

The screams, questions, and flashes are

overwhelming even for me, I can’t imagine what
Kaylee is feeling. She tucks her head into my chest,
and I wrap a protective arm around her shoulders
pulling her closer. Right where I want her, in my
arms.

A large black SUV waits at the curb with the

rear doors open. I begin walking us faster toward
the car as Kenneth uses the luggage cart to his
advantage, clearing a direct path to the waiting
SUV. I damn near shove Kaylee into the back seat,
before slamming the door behind us and locking it.

“Holy shit,” she mumbles, brushing her hair out

of her face. “Kenneth was right. They're just as bad
here as back home.”

“Fucking animals,” I bark as the car is

surrounded by flashing lights and people banging on

the windows.

“Sir?” the driver says loudly, getting our

attention. “Buckle up. We're going to be making a
fast exit once we get our final passenger loaded.”

Poor Kenneth is loading luggage into the back

of the SUV as Kendall sits quietly in the front seat,
face pressed to the window, ignoring Kaylee and I
in the backseat. Kaylee shoots me a look of
concern, and I brush it off with a shake of my head.
Kendall can be a complete bitch when things don't
go exactly her way. She's pouting, and I refuse to
play her games.

With the slam of a door, Kenneth slides in next

to Kaylee, sandwiching her between us.

“Go!” he hollers, and the driver makes the exit

he warned us about, fast and abrupt. We're not
even out of the airport when Kenneth pulls his
phone out and begins dolling out orders.

“Pax,” he begins. “Thursday night is the

premiere. But tomorrow you have an appearance
on the Graham Norton show and interviews with
the BBC and a whole shitload of radio interviews.
Radio will be done from your suite bright and early.
Kendall will take the lead on the radio. I'll be by
with a car to take you to Graham Norton
immediately following.”

“Got it.” I nod.
“That leaves some downtime for you and Ms.

Kaylee to explore London. I can make

arrangements for dinners or shows should you wish.
Just ask, and I’ll make it happen.” I can’t think of
anything other than getting Kaylee naked and
underneath me.

“Kaylee.” He smiles at her and rests his phone

on his leg. “A stylist has been busy shopping and
has an entire rack of dresses for you to try on in the
suite for the premiere. Hair and make-up will be
there for you as well. Everything is taken care of.”

Her eyes widen as Kenneth runs down the

amenities that will be at her service. “Anything
that's not there that you need, you ask me.” He
side-eyes Kendall to see if she has any reservations,
but she still hasn't moved, her forehead still pressed
to the window in the front seat.

“I can make almost anything happen, but time

is of the essence. If you need something for tonight,
you need to tell me soon.” He looks at me when he
says this. I’m sure he’s thinking I’m going to ask
him to get me at a table at an exclusive restaurant
or one of the hot nightclubs. Fuck that. Tonight, it’s
all about me devouring Kaylee.

Kaylee takes a sharp breath and nods at him.

“Thank you, Kenneth.” She looks genuinely
relieved that she doesn’t have to worry about a
damn thing.

“Pax.” Kenneth turns his attention back to me.

“For the interviews, both radio and television, I
think it's best to stick strictly to questions regarding

the movie. Everyone has been warned to avoid
personal questions, but you and I both know those
arse holes never stick to script. Avoid answering
personal questions at all costs. Keep this about the
movie. Kaylee's been through a lot—”

“Or just answer the fucking questions, Pax. It's

what you'll do anyway. I'm not sure why you bother
having publicists when you don't listen to a
goddamn word we say,” Kendall snaps from the
front seat. Her voice is laced with venom and
bitterness.

“There she is!” I blurt out, and Kaylee squeezes

my hand, a silent warning to be kind. “Now that
you're back with us, do you have any additional
requests that Kenneth hasn't covered?”

She cocks her head and narrows her eyes,

“Nope. It's all been covered.”

“Excellent. Then let's all enjoy London.” I sit

back in my seat, and Kaylee visibly relaxes as the
tension begins to ease in the car.

Our driver winds through the city before pulling

up to The Ritz Carlton hotel where another crew of
paparazzi are already camped out and waiting for
us.

As we exit the vehicle, Kenneth pulls Kaylee

aside to brief her on this whirlwind of a trip. I hear
him telling her where she should stand during
interviews, how to keep her focus and not let the
flashes from cameras blind her, and most

importantly how to smile at all times. Even when
she's scared or worried…smile. I appreciate
Kenneth providing her guidance as my mind is all
over the place and Kaylee takes her crash course in
publicity like a champ.

As I'm lost in my own thoughts, Kendall

approaches, her lips pursed and fire in her eyes.

“There are no words to accurately describe how

pissed off I am,” she seethes, keeping her voice low
so as Kaylee doesn't hear. “I'm doing everything in
my power to keep—”

“Just stop, Kendall!” I muster, getting in her

face. She takes a step backward to move away
from me. It’s rare I get aggressive with anyone, let
alone Kendall, but she is fucking pissing me off.
“Believe it or not, Kaylee is a good girl. She's here
for the right reasons—”

“I don't care why she's here. I don't like it, and I

want her gone.”

“Kendall—” my voice warns. “Don't make me

choose.”

“Choose what?” she snaps.
“Between you and her…because you're not

going to like who I pick.” I raise my eyebrows in
warning, and her eyes narrow into thin slits.
“Kendall, please don't make this difficult for me. I
like Kaylee. A lot. I asked her to come with me. In
fact, I begged her to come with me. She's different
than the other girls.”

Kendall snorts and rolls her eyes. “They’re all

different,” she scoffs.

“Kaylee is different. I could see myself falling

in love with this girl. She's that different.”

Kendall's eyes widen at my admission, and she

shakes her head. “And you know this after one
night of being balls deep in her?” The sarcasm
dripping from her voice continues to piss me off.
“Just keep her close. I don't want to have to
fucking deal with her,” she says before turning on a
heel and walking away.

I see Kaylee approach cautiously as we both

watch Kendall walk away, with a frown on her
face.

I put a big smile on my face and reach for

Kaylee's hand. “Let's go get settled. I plan on
taking advantage of our suite tonight.” I press a kiss
to the top of her head.

Turning to the bellman who has our baggage

loaded on a luggage cart, I tell him, “Don't deliver
those for a couple of hours. We won't be needing
them right away.” He nods at my orders, and I pull
Kaylee towards the lobby of the hotel. I have one
thing on my mind right now and it's devouring her
for the next few hours.

Chapter 13

KAYLEE

“O

.” I pressed my hand to my chest and

spun in a circle as I took in my surroundings. “This
can’t be real. This is absolutely amazing. Gorgeous.
I can’t even. Paxton.”

Awe dripped from every word.
We might as well have been staying at the

Royal Palace for all the luxury of the over-the-top
suite.

“Gorgeous,” he said in a low voice. I turned

that direction at the sound of his voice. Only he
wasn’t looking at the overindulgent luxury of the
suite.

He was looking directly at me.
My breath caught when he began to stalk my

direction.

The air grew thick and he slanted me one of

those smiles that owned the world before he ripped

his shirt over his head.

A stunned, “Oh,” bled from my mouth.
Was that drool?
My gaze swept his body. With each step he

took, his abs rippled and the muscles of his wide,
strong shoulders flexed and bowed.

This…this was what fantasies were made of. It

seemed impossible it could be my reality.

“Are we doing this…right now?” I asked as he

began to back me through the main room and into
the bedroom waiting beyond.

“Oh, yes, Kaylee Rose, we are definitely doing

this right now.” His voice dropped an octave. Slow
and rough.

A tremor rolled down my spine, and my heart

rate sped.

Desire twisted through my belly and pulsed

between my thighs.

This felt so…different than the last time. Last

time had felt like a secret. A memory to hold, never
to be repeated again.

This felt like a statement.
Like a claim.
He took another step toward me. He pushed his

fingers under my shirt and lifted it over my head.
My hair tickled down around my shoulders, my
breasts straining with need as cool air brushed my
skin.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered again. His fingertips

trailed across the lace of my bra. The grin he wore
grew wicked as he leaned around and flicked the
snap and freed it. He slid it down my arms and took
a step back to pull it free. “So damned gorgeous.
Look at you. So pink and lush.” His voice dipped in
seduction. “The softest rose.”

Chills skated, a rash of goosebumps lifting in

their wake.

Paxton followed them with his fingers. “Do you

feel that, Kaylee Rose?” He inflected the last as he
edged me into the room that was just as extravagant
as the first. I swore it was like stepping into a
museum. “What I do to you?”

His slid his palms up my arms and over my

shoulders. Purposefully, he ran them down my sides
where his fingers dipped into the waist of my skirt.
He tugged it free.

I yelped when he suddenly hauled me up and

tossed me on the bed. A giggle filtered out, and I
arched up on the bed as he tugged off my shoes.

He wound his fingers in the side of my

underwear, hesitated for the briefest flash of a
second, before he pressed a kiss between my
thighs. “I like these.”

He dragged them off.
“But I like you bare better.”
Another giggle.
God. This so wasn’t me. But it felt so good. Felt

so right.

“I think I like you bare better, too.”
“Is that so?”
Chewing at my bottom lip, I nodded, my hair

billowing out across the pillow. “That’s so.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his strong chest. “I

think that can be accommodated.”

He flicked the button on his jeans and shrugged

out of them.

My head spun.
One of the most sought-after bachelors in the

world was standing in front of me. Hard. Ready.
Wanting me.

All the reservations and questions I’d been

feeling flew out the window.

I climbed to my knees and met him at the edge

of the bed.

I pressed my mouth to the bristling muscle of

his chest. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I’m
here…in this place…with you.”

Hot hands scraped over my shoulders. “I don’t

want you anywhere else.”

“I still don’t get that, but I’ll take it.” It was

almost a tease.

He laughed, the sound a lure. “Oh, you’re going

to take it, all right.”

Shivers danced, and I started kissing down his

chest, over the hard, hard planes of his six-pack
that flexed and bunched beneath my lips. My
tongue licked out for a taste.

All man.
He wrapped his hands in my hair, fisting it tight

when I got to the band of his underwear.

I peeked up at him as I slowly lowered them.
He shrugged out of them and increased his hold.
“Take me into your mouth.”
Lust rocked me to the core. I liked it. Liked that

he wasn’t afraid to demand what he wanted. Liked
it more when he groaned when I pressed my lips to
the tip. My tongue explored, before I took him
deeper.

His stomach jerked and ticked, and he left one

hand tangled in my hair while the other came to the
side of my face as he began to guide me up and
down his length. His hips rocked in time. Needier.
Deeper. Harder.

“Fuck,” he cursed. He pulled free. A shocked

gasp left me when he suddenly pulled me up from
my knees. The man devoured my mouth, tongue
and teeth and lips, before he was pushing me back
into the middle of the bed.

“I need to get inside of you, Kaylee Rose. Right

now.”

Almost frantic, he dug around in the basket

filled with necessities that had been left bedside.

My mouth watered as I watched him roll a

condom over his cock.

He climbed onto the bed and wedged himself

between my knees.

He leaned down close to my ear. “Hold on.”
I did exactly what he said, my fingertips digging

into the skin of his shoulders as he tucked my knee
over his hip.

He filled me in one solid thrust.
“Paxton.” It was a throaty moan.
“Fuck…so good. I fucking love the way you

feel. So damned perfect,” he mumbled as he pulled
out then rocked back in, stealing my breath. He was
quick to pick up a rigid pace. Hard and long. Deep
and demanding. So, so good.

He pushed up to his hands, looking down at me

as he took me whole.

I forgot who I was.
Where I was.
The only thing I was in that moment was his.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded, and my hand

fluttered down my belly.

He groaned when I brushed my fingers into my

folds, my first two fingertips running circles around
my clit.

“So hot. Shit…you’re so hot. Look at you.

Look at you.”

We both watched down where we were joined.

His hips snapped and my fingers strummed my
body.

Pleasure wound fast. So thick I swore I could

see it hovering in the air.

Every muscle on his gorgeous body tightened,

and I rocked up, desperate to meet him thrust for
thrust.

I’d never felt anything like this.
Not once in my life.
Not ever.
He sat back on his knees and wound his arms

under my hips, lifting them from the bed. The
magnitude of the shift hit me from every side,
consumed with the way his body filled mine.

So full.
So much.
So good.
Bliss broke. It sped through my nerves,

saturating every cell.

I cried out, and he increased his pace, harder

and faster as he pulled every ounce of pleasure
from my body. He shouted my name, his hips
erratic before he stilled, his hands gripping me tight.

I could feel the intensity of his orgasm, as fierce

as mine.

Mind-bending.
Heart-stopping.
I couldn’t breathe.
He laughed when he toppled down at my side.

“That was…”

“Incredible,” I said.
“Amazing,” he returned.
“Mind-blowing.”
“Unforgettable.” It was the truth. It didn’t

matter where we ended up. I was never going to
forget this.

His smile softened as he ran his fingers through

my hair. “Thank you for coming with me. You
don’t know what it means to me.”

“I wouldn’t want to be any other place.”
His brow arched. “Really?”
I searched within myself for the truth. “Really.”
He grinned. “That’s good, because I wouldn’t

let you leave.”

I could feel the heat flame to my cheeks.
“Come on, get up. I need to feed you.”
“Do I have to?” It was only half a tease.
He smacked my ass, and I yelped. “Yes, you

have to. You’re going to need your energy for
everything I have planned for you. Now get that
fine ass out of my bed.”

“Bossy,” I told him as I gathered the sheet and

wrapped it around my body.

A smirk lifted one side of his mouth. “You have

no idea.”

Chapter 14

PAXTON

“M

MMM

…” Kaylee mumbles, her eyes still closed,

as I run a finger over her shoulder and down her
arm. After spending all of yesterday doing radio
and television interviews, we spent most of last
night in bed after a quick dinner at one of London’s
newest and most posh restaurants, and I know she’s
tired, but I have a full day planned for her.

“Mornin’, sweet Kay.” I brush my nose over

her cheek before pressing my lips to her.

“Morning,” she moans as she stretches her lean

body out underneath the silk sheets. I toss my arm
across her bare stomach and pull her over, cradling
her in my arms. She slides a leg between mine and
brushes her hand over my hardening cock, stopping
to cop a feel.

I stop her, capturing her hand in mine before

flipping her gently onto her back and settling

between her legs. Heaven. She pants and writhes
underneath me as I align myself at her entrance,
teasing her. “As much as I want to stay in bed all
day and devour you, I have something fun planned
for us today.” I rub my cock up and down her wet
folds.

“Pax,” she growls as I slide into her. I take it

slow with Kaylee this morning, exploring every
inch of her beautiful body as I make love to her. I
make a note to touch every crevice, every soft,
supple inch of her skin as we connect. Never have I
wanted to take my time like this before,
memorizing every single curve of this beautiful
woman’s body.

Most women satisfied an immediate need for

me. A quick roll in the sheets, a means to an end. I
got off, they left. End of the story. With Kaylee it’s
different. I never want it to end. I can’t get enough
of her. What the hell is she doing to me?

As we climax together, I can feel our hearts

beat wildly against each other’s chests.

“Kay,” I mumble against her neck as my lips

pull gently at her soft flesh as I try to catch my
breath.

“Hmm,” she answers in response, her own

breathing labored.

“Thank you for coming to London with me.”
She doesn’t answer, but I can feel her smile

against my shoulder as we both come down from

our climaxes. I know she’s nervous as hell about
being here with me, about us, but I can’t imagine
being anywhere without her.

“Where are we going?” Kaylee smiles as I pull her
quickly through the hotel lobby, hoping we go
unnoticed. Kenneth sent a car and security detail
for us, along with an agenda outlining everything
we’ll be doing for the next eight hours. I plan to
show Kaylee everything London has to offer.

“You’ll see when we get there,” I pull her in

tightly next to me, wrapping an arm around her
shoulder. I nod at the driver waiting in the carport
with the backdoor of the large suburban open and
waiting for us to slide into.

Once inside, we meet the two burly men who

will tag along with us today.

“Paxton.”
I reach out and shake each man’s hand.
“William.” The first man introduces himself

with a firm handshake.

“Michael.” The second does the same.
As he pulls from the curb, Michael goes over

their plan for keeping us safe, but not smothering
us, and I’m so appreciative that Kenneth thought to
get us security. I want to spend my day focusing on
Kaylee, not worrying about any shenanigans
happening around us.

“No autographs today. No selfies. No fan

pictures,” I tell them. “I just want to spend the day
with Kaylee and feel normal for once.”

Kaylee squeezes my hand, and I take a deep

breath. Each man nods in understanding, and I feel
comfortable that they know how to handle all the
“celebrity baggage” that always accompanies me.

“Pax,” Kaylee gasps, her face pressed up

against the tinted window. “It’s a Ferris wheel!”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s more than a Ferris wheel.

Just wait.” The driver pulls up and parks as William
and Michael exit first. We follow suit just as
another man rushes over. Neither William or
Michael blink at the man who extends his hand in
greeting to me.

“Paxton Myles, I’m Rob Doherty, your tour

guide for today.” Right, tour guide. I remember
seeing something in Kenneth’s message that we’d
have a tour guide. “We’ll be starting here at the
London Eye, and I have a couple of other amazing
things to show you.” He extends his arm toward the
giant wheel, guiding us toward the entrance.

As we approach the area to board, Rob

continues, “The Eye is all yours for the next hour.
No one will be in your capsule, or any other
capsule. The most magnificent views of London
you’ll ever see. Be sure to look for The Houses of
Parliament, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey,
Buckingham Palace, The Tower Bridge, and of

course the River Thames.” His smile is huge and
infectious and Kaylee’s matches.

He steps inside the capsule to point out a table

that has been set up with champagne and orange
juice. “Enjoy champagne or mimosas while you’re
up there, but mostly enjoy the view. It’s
spectacular!” He steps out of the capsule while
they close the door and Kaylee stands speechless.

“You okay?” I give her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Please tell me you’re not afraid of heights.” I
chuckle, but panic for a quick moment, having not
even considered asking her prior to booking this.
She looks up at me, her eyes wide, her face somber.

“Paxton Myles, I can’t even believe you’ve

gone through the trouble of doing this for me. It’s
too much, it’s too…” She pauses, blinking as she
takes in the surroundings. Clearing her throat, she
looks back up at me. “It’s too amazing.” She takes
a deep breath as the capsule jolts slightly as we
begin to rise. “And no, I’m not afraid of heights.”

I pull her into my arms, and she wraps hers

around my waist in return. I could get used to this.
Her next to me…all the time. Her cheek pressed to
my chest as the capsule rises slowly and we take in
all of London’s beauty.

It takes about an hour to make two full

rotations. I made sure to point out all of the
landmarks that Rob mentioned for us to look for,
and Kaylee was fascinated. Her eyes beamed in

awe, and it was so fucking cute when she’d laid
eyes on all these pieces of London’s history while
sipping on champagne.

As we disembark the London Eye, Rob,

William, and Michael wait for us and lead us back
to the Suburban.

“Was it everything you’d hoped it would be?”

Rob asks Kaylee.

“More.” She looks up at me. That’s exactly

how I felt as well. While seeing London is amazing,
it’s Kaylee that makes it better.

“I agree,” I say quietly, lacing her fingers

through mine.

Once we’re settled back in the car, Rob pulls

out his phone and smiles. “Next up, private tour of
Buckingham Palace.”

Kaylee’s eyes about bug out of her head.

“What does that mean?” she asks, softly.

“It means Rob here is giving us a private tour of

the Palace.” I nudge her with my shoulder and
press a tender kiss to her temple. Her excitement
brings me happiness. Is this what it feels like to be
in love? When your happiness takes a back seat to
someone else’s? I tuck away that thought and smile
at Kaylee.

“We’ll get to see the State rooms, the Queen’s

Gallery, and the Royal Mews. We won’t be with
anyone else, so we can take our time and we get
access to additional areas the general public doesn’t

get to see.” Kaylee shakes her head in disbelief.

“Come here,” she whispers, pulling me toward

her, pressing her forehead to mine. “You are too
much, Pax, but thank you. Thank you so much.”
She kisses me, deeply. A kiss that feels so much
more than all the others. This kiss bears the weight
of what she’s feeling, and fuck if it doesn’t about
make my heart explode.

“Unbelievable,” is all she can say when we exit
Buckingham Palace. She’s been quiet for the last
hour, I expect she’s about as overwhelmed as I am
having taken in all the history and splendor of the
Palace.

“It really was, wasn’t it?” I stop and look

around. We’ve gone unnoticed, mostly thanks to
the private tour and shutting down the London Eye
for an hour. It feels good to feel like every other
normal person who’s out and about sightseeing.

“What’s wrong?” Kaylee asks as I eye St.

James Park off in the distance.

“Nothing. Michael, William,” I nod my head

toward the park and both men give me a look. “Just
a little detour, Kay.” I press a kiss to the top of her
head. “Come on.”

The two men fall into step behind us as I guide

her toward the beautiful park. While it’s overcast
today, I put my sunglasses on in hopes it hides my

face and we can continue to go unnoticed. William
and Michael stay a bit closer to us here in the open
public, but people don’t seem to notice me, thank
God. At the entrance of the park, we stop to look at
the beautiful flower beds which are bright and
colorful. Kaylee snaps a quick picture of them with
her phone before we continue on.

“Pax,” Kaylee sighs as she lifts her phone and

snaps another picture of the fountain in the middle
of the lake.

“Yes, Kay?”
She shoves her phone into the back pocket of

her jeans and looks up at me. “This might be the
best day I’ve ever had. Thank you.”

I smile back at her. “You’ve thanked me no less

than fifty times today.” I rub my thumb over her
bottom lip, wanting to suck the soft flesh between
my teeth.

“No one has ever done something this nice for

me before.”

“I want to do nice things for you all the time,

Kaylee. So, get used to this, and stop thanking me.”
I pull her in for a hug.

“Mr. Myles,” William says, interrupting our

moment. “We best get going.” He nods his head
toward a crowd of people who are all holding up
their cell phones snapping pictures of my moment
with Kaylee.

“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath. “Ready, baby?”

Kaylee nods, sliding her hand into mine as Michael
and William get us back to the car safely.

Chapter 15

KAYLEE

AXTON

HELD

OPEN

the door to the massive suite.

“Ladies, first,” he said, shooting me one of those
earth-shattering grins, all white teeth and Southern
charm as he bowed down and gestured for me to go
ahead of him.

A giggle slipped free. After the day we’d

shared, I couldn’t help it. The outright giddiness
that swept through me. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”
My words oozed playfulness as I dipped down into
an exaggerated curtsy.

Fingertips fluttered out to graze down the side

of my neck, his words lifting chills where he
whispered them at my ear, something about them
both possessive and sincere. “I’d do anything for
my lady.”

My heart rate spiked as my mind struggled to

catch up with what was happening between us.

Today had been one of the best days of my life,

seeing all the history of London, things I’d never
gotten to experience before and probably never
would have had Paxton not invited me along.

Under any circumstances, it would have been

wonderful. A once in a lifetime chance.

But it was Paxton who’d made it magical.
This morning while riding The London Eye, I’d

seen some of the most notable landmarks in all the
world.

But I knew, when I thought back to tonight, to

this trip, it would be Paxton’s face that I
remembered.

The realization of that sent a tumble of

apprehension through me, knowing this was going
to hurt when it all came to an end. Because I liked
Paxton Myles more than I should probably admit.
In a way that had become so much more than one
night.

Trying not to think about the future, I forced

myself to smile at him from over my shoulder. “I’m
going to go freshen up.”

Hands stuffed into his pockets, he rocked back

on his heels and cast me the sweetest smile. “Don’t
be long. I’ll miss you.”

“Sure you will.” It was the barest tease and I

knew I needed to get out of there with the way the
man was looking at me. With the way he just kept
getting deeper and deeper under my skin.

I headed into the bedroom and into en suite

restroom, toed off my shoes, and let my hair down.

I tugged my shirt over my head, then gasped a

little breath when I looked up into the mirror to find
Pax standing right behind me.

“Pax.”
Really, I shouldn’t have been all that surprised.

But I guess what had caught me off guard was the
look in his eye right then.

I thought maybe it was different than anything

that had ever been there before.

Intense and determined.
He edged forward and my heart hammered.
His gaze never wavered from mine as he looked

at me through the mirror as he reached up and
unwound the shirt I had clutched in my hand.

“Let me help you with that,” he murmured, his

breath skating the bare flesh at the crook of my
neck.

Chills rushed down my spine.
He inched even closer, his chest grazing my

back as he let his palms slide down the outside of
my arms as he leaned in and whispered at my ear,
“I saw what just flashed through your eyes, you
know.” His words sounded like a quiet demand. “I
saw exactly what you were thinking.”

“And what was that?” I barely managed around

the thick knot that rose in my throat. A knot lifted
by the sudden intensity that had gathered in the tiny

space.

So fierce I was sure the man’s presence had

become an entity of its own.

His hands skated back up my arms, running

over the caps of my shoulders before he was
winding my hair in one hand, angling my head to
the side as he pressed his mouth to my pulse that
was thrumming wildly in my throat. “You were
thinking about the end, Kaylee Rose. You were
thinking about the night when I don’t get to make
love to you before we fall asleep and the morning I
don’t wake up with you in my arms.”

“I’d be a fool if I didn’t think that day wasn’t

coming.”

Then why did the thought of that rip me apart

inside?

God, I’d let myself get so damned deep, coming

here with him, getting swept up by the whirlwind
that was Paxton Myles.

Being with him made me feel as if I was the

only woman in the world. As if when he looked at
me, I had become his focal point.

I shrugged a shoulder, though it took about all

the energy I had to do it. “We don’t even know
each other, Pax. Today was…”

Wonderful.
Amazing.
I want to do it over and over and over.
Never let it go.

Never let you go.
“…Unforgettable. But you and I? We’re from

very different worlds.”

He gave my hair a little tug. “Who says those

worlds can’t become one, Kaylee Rose? Who
says?”

An incredulous chuckle escaped my lips. “I’m

pretty sure about every person in the whole
damned world.”

“And I say fuck the whole world because I

want you to be a part of mine.”

I blinked at him through the mirror. “We barely

know each other.”

He released my hair and set both his hands on

my waist. He pressed himself against my bottom.
“And that doesn’t change the way we feel, does it?
These last few days…”

He paused, his tongue darting out to wet his

lips, as if he were gathering himself, trying to find
the right words. “The last few days have been the
best of my life, Kaylee. The best. I invited you to
come with me because I couldn’t stop thinking
about you. Because for the first time in years, I was
actually excited about something. About someone.
And I don’t want that to end.”

“What are you saying?” I asked him, the words

breathless.

He cocked one of those grins. The kind that

captivated the world on the screen. And tonight …

it was fully directed at me. “I’m saying I want us to
figure this out, Kaylee Rose. That when I step out,
the whole goddamned world knows that I’m taken.
That I belong to you and you belong to me. That
you’re mine. No speculation or questions. We just
are.”

Flooded with emotion, a tear slipped free. “You

want me?”

He groaned and pressed himself closer to my

back, and he buried his mouth in my hair as he
muttered the words at the top of my head. “God,
yes, Kaylee. I want you. That’s obvious enough,
isn’t it? I want all of you. What do you say? Do you
want all of me, too?”

He was back to flashing me that grin through

the mirror.

So confident and sweet.
“As if you don’t already know the answer to

that,” I said, swatting at the tear staining my cheek.

“You’re willing to try this out with me?” he

prodded.

I spun around to face him. “God, Pax, of course

I am. How could I not? You are so different than I
ever could have imagined. I’ve never felt like this.”

He hugged me against him and pressed a kiss to

my temple. “Good. Now that that’s settled, get your
fine ass in that bed.”

Leaning back, I grinned up at him. “Always

ordering me into your bed, huh?”

A chuckle rippled from his strong chest. “I

think you’d best get used to it, Kay. You’re going to
be spending a lot of time in it.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” I let the tease

wind into the words, my happiness too big to
contain.

Because Paxton Myles had just become mine.
He stepped back and jerked his shirt over his

head, one side of his mouth quirking up in a
delicious grin, mischief playing in his eyes. “Both.”

Chapter 16

PAXTON

“R

BLACK

?” Kaylee dangles a hanger holding

two very different dresses from each of her
forefingers. Except I'm not looking at the dresses.
I'm looking at Kaylee standing stark naked, her
perfect body on full display. Her breasts heavy and
nipples taut. The curve of her hip teasing me as she
waits for my answer. Snapping out of it, I answer.

“When in doubt always wear red,” I respond,

stepping into the shower.

She gives each dress another look and hangs the

black one back on the garment rack. As I shampoo
my hair, I watch her through the glass-encased
shower. She twists her hair up on top of her head
and collects an armful of bottles before opening the
shower door.

“Hope you don't mind company,” she says, her

eyes dropping to my growing erection. All she has

to do is be within a foot of me and I can't control
myself. Her voice cracks as she watches me lather
body wash on my chest. “The hair and makeup
people will be here in twenty minutes and I need to
rinse off.”

I lick my lips as goose bumps pepper her skin

and her nipples form into hardened peaks. “I only
need ten minutes to do what I plan to do with you,”
I growl at her.

I reach for her arm, pulling her to me. My dick

is growing harder when I see how affected she is by
me. Water runs in a stream over her shoulders,
through the valley of her breasts, and down the
apex of her thighs to the spot I want to devour over
and over again.

I move her behind me, turning to press her back

against the marble wall, and she gasps when her
back makes contact with the cool stone. Her eyes
are heavy as she watches me position her exactly
how I need her, sliding a knee between her legs.
She widens her stance just slightly to make room
for my leg.

I drag my tongue across her collarbone, nibbling

at the soft flesh as my fingers pinch a hardened
nipple causing her to elicit a deep moan. “Put your
hands on my shoulders,” I mumble against her
neck.

Her trembling hands land on my shoulders as

my palms trace the curves of her body resting on

her perfectly round ass. Her eyes find mine, just as
I lift her and she gasps loudly.

Our chests are pressed together, allowing me to

feel the rapid beat of her heart. Her knees are
spread wide, allowing me access to the very part of
her I need right now. My dick presses against her
warm center, and I look to her for permission.

Her head falls back as I press against her, still

waiting for her to allow me into her.

“Kaylee,” I growl against her neck as she rocks

her center gently across my thigh. Her arms tighten
around my neck as she lifts herself away from me.
Disappointment floods through me, but then she
suddenly lowers herself right on top of me, and now
it's me that's groaning.

“Jesus Christ, Kay,” I hiss as I fill her

completely. She's seated on me all the way to the
root, her tight walls expanding to take me in. “I'm
not going to last long, you feel so fucking good.” I
begin to thrust, fast and needy. I'm overwhelmed by
Kaylee and how fucking amazing she feels.

“You said you only needed ten minutes,” she

teases me.

I won't last ten goddamn minutes if she

continues like this. She rocks her hips harder
against me, fucking me as I hold her pressed against
the shower wall. Her hands find my face, and she
tilts my head up so she can kiss me. Our tongues
dance with each other as she rocks her hips back

and forth, fucking me. She twists her fingers in the
hair at the nape of my neck as her orgasm builds. I
can feel her fighting against it, but little does she
know I'm ready to come along with her.

“Pax,” she pants my name over and over again

as I take over and slam into her. “I'm so close.” Her
eyes close and her head falls back against the
marble as I continue to fill her, harder, and deeper
than I've ever been before. Everything about her in
this moment is beautiful. Her vulnerabilities. Her
trust. Everything.

“Just feel it, Kaylee,” I say as I thrust into her

one last time, filling her to the hilt. She wraps her
arms around my neck tighter as her entire body
comes undone. Her thighs shake around me, and
her entire body writhes between me and the wall,
and I finally lose it along with her, filling her with
my release.

I slide out of her, gently setting her to her feet.

She steadies her wobbly legs and finally looks up at
me with wide, innocent eyes.

“What are you doing to me?” I whisper.
She chews on her lip and her lips twist into a

perfect smile. “The same thing you're doing to me.”
And that is when I fall head over heels for Kaylee
Rose Burton.

“Don't be nervous,” I whisper in Kaylee's ear as her

death grip on my hand tightens even more as our
limo approaches the theater. She has barely said
two words since we left the hotel, but I can't keep
my eyes off her. Her hair is styled up with a few
locks of soft curls bouncing around her shoulders.
She looks stunning in the fitted red dress that
displays every fucking perfect curve of her body.

“Don't be nervous,” she mocks me. “I want to

hurl right this second and we're not even out of the
car yet.”

As we roll to a stop, the back door of the

limousine opens quickly. I glance to my left and
give her hand a little squeeze. “This is easy. Just
smile. Don't answer any questions. Remember
everything Kenneth told you.” She inhales sharply
and offers me a tight smile. She's so out of her
element, but goddamn it, this is exactly where she's
supposed to be.

With me.
I offer her an encouraging smile in return.

“Ready?”

Wit is her trademark, and I'd expect nothing

less from her in this moment. “As I'll ever be.”

“Then let's do this.” I slide out of the back seat

carefully, never dropping her hand. The moment
my feet hit the ground, the yelling, screaming, and
flashes of light begin. I raise my right hand to offer
the press a short wave as I help Kaylee exit the car
as gracefully as possible in a floor length fitted

gown.

She pulls herself tightly to my side as she puts a

giant smile on her face. She's made for this. Her red
lips are pulled to perfection as her eyes twinkle in
the light bulb flashes.

“Kaylee!” The yells begin for her now. Security

ushers us slowly down the red carpet to the step
and repeat backdrop where we’ll stand for pictures.

“Keep smiling, Kaylee. This is where I want

you to focus on one thing and don't take your eyes
off it. The lights will blind you if you try to look at
the cameras.”

We step up to the wall, standing in front of a

giant image of my face from the movie poster.
Kenneth stands off to the side, waiting to take us to
the press line.

He arrived in a separate car just ahead of us. A

clipboard pressed tightly to his chest, he smiles
proudly as Kaylee does exactly as she's been told.
Kenneth works the press line like a pro, getting me
in and out in less than ten minutes.

“That wasn't so bad, was it?” I growl in

Kaylee's ear as we're ushered to our seats in the
theater.

With a small laugh, her lips pull upward.

“Maybe for you. For me it was pure torture.”

“Get used to it. This is the first of many,” I

respond, reassuring Kaylee that this is exactly
where I want her. By my side. Tonight. Tomorrow.

Forever? I shake the thought from my head and
turn my attention to the screen just as the lights
begin to fall.

The applause is startling…humbling actually.
Cheers, whistles, and hoots fill the theater as the
credits roll. My heart pounds and my cheeks flush
at the standing ovation. Kaylee leans in and presses
a sweet, long kiss to my lips. “Simply amazing,” she
says, her soft lips brushing mine as she speaks.

“You think so?” I ask, and she nods her head

swiftly.

“Except for that part where you were naked in

bed with that—”

My laugh cuts her off. “I like it when you're

jealous. It's cute.”

“Not jealous, just—” She pauses, thinking

about how she's going to position this.

I answer for her. “Jealous. And I love it.” I've

been throwing that love word around a lot today,
and it's totally unlike me. She rolls her eyes and
smirks. Kenneth weaves through the crowd, his
head bobbing up and down through the mass of
people. When he finally reaches us, he wraps his
hand around Kaylee's arm, tugging her gently
toward him.

“I'm going to take you with me to the green

room. Everyone wants to congratulate Pax, and it's

safer there.”

I know exactly what he means by safer. Safer

from the press. Safer from Kendall, who's lurking
nearby, and safer from the overwhelming
atmosphere that movie premiere's entail. Kenneth
senses Kaylee’s unease, and honestly, the faster I
can bullshit with these people, the sooner we can
be out of here. The people can be stifling. I
appreciate Kenneth looking out for Kaylee, and I
shoot him an appreciative glance.

I pull Kaylee to me, wrapping my arms around

her waist. Her entire body hums at my touch. I can't
wait to be buried inside her again in a couple of
hours. I grow hard thinking about the way her
entire body quivers when she comes, or how her
back arches when I slide into her.

I drop my forehead to hers, and she closes her

eyes. “Go with Kenneth. I won't be long.” She sighs
and kisses the side of my mouth. “And in no more
than two hours, I want those lips wrapped around
my cock again.”

“Pax,” she hisses and slaps my chest jokingly.
“I'm serious. I want all of you, Kaylee.” Her

lips, her body, her heart. What the fuck has
happened to me?

“Then all of me you'll have.” She pulls back,

her eyes finding mine. She could tell a million
stories with those eyes. I see her fear, but also her
sincerity. She's like no one else I've ever met.

Kenneth reaches for her arm, pulling us out of our
moment.

“I'll take good care of her. Now go mingle.” He

pats her arm and waves me off. I watch him guide
her toward the side exit of the theater, and I’m
anxious to get this over with so I can get back to
my girl.

Chapter 17

KAYLEE

“I

HOPE

you’ll be comfortable in here. Paxton

shouldn’t be too awfully long.” Kenneth hovered at
the green room door, as if he were torn between
staying there to watch over me and stepping back
out with Paxton where he really belonged.

I threaded my fingers together. “I’ll be fine,

thank you.”

He gestured with his chin toward the elaborate

wooden buffet that was set up against the far wall.
“Help yourself to whatever you need. And if you
need anything else, call.”

Warmth spread through my chest, and I nodded

back as a small smile touched the corner of my
mouth. “Thank you for watching out for me. I truly
appreciate it.”

With a curt nod, he exited the room and let the

door fall shut behind him. It muted the bustle of

voices and laughter that filtered in through the main
room. Voices and laughter that vied for the
attention of the man who had somehow managed to
steal all of mine.

All of my focus.
All of my sanity.
Honestly, I was grateful to step away so I could

get a breath. Grateful to have the time to process
what I’d just experienced. Watching the movie at
Paxton’s side had been a jarring, stark reminder of
who this man was. A reminder of his talent and
fame. A reminder of the demands of his life and the
brilliance he brought to the screen.

I was still having a hard time processing that I

was here at the premiere in London.

At his side.
By tomorrow morning, I would be plastered all

over the tabloids again. This time by choice.

I kept scrambling around inside myself,

searching for reservations. I kept waiting for reason
and logic to finally set in and remind me of who I
was and who I’d always wanted to be.

I was a kindergarten teacher.
A girl who’d always wanted a modest and

simple life.

A roar of laughter echoed from the walls.
And this?
This didn’t even come close to a semblance of

simple.

God…I couldn’t even bring myself to call it

normal.

It was a fantasy.
Impossible.
And here it was…right in front of me.
Moving toward the sidebar to pour a drink, I

dropped my head and fought an affected smile
when I was struck with the realization.

This was exactly where I wanted to be.
Here.
With him.
Despite the cameras and intrusion. Regardless

of the gossip and the speculation.

I didn’t care.
I reached for the bottle of champagne that was

chilling in a silver bucket on the table, then stilled
when I felt the air rustle from behind.

A cold, unwelcome chill.
It slithered across my skin like an omen.
I allowed myself to close my eyes for one

second, before I gathered all the courage and
resolve I had and slowly turned around to face the
fierce presence that had appeared at the door.

“Kendall.” It was barely a whisper.
She smiled a vicious, red-lipped smile, her bob

brushing her thin, bare shoulders, the woman a
knockout in her cobalt blue strapless dress.

If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed

her to have been one of the stars on the screen.

“I do hope you enjoyed the show.” Her voice

was all feigned interest and concern. “Although, I
suppose you already slithered your way in to see it
once. It doesn’t have quite the same impact the
second time around, does it?”

I stood my ground, refusing to let this woman

belittle me just by her condescending tone.

“Actually, I think I appreciated it more the

second time around…anticipating what was next.
Knowing it would steal my breath and then being
floored by it all over again.”

She laughed. “Kudos to you, Kaylee. You do

always seem to know the right thing to say.” She
wandered deeper into the room. “Though that
doesn’t change the situation, does it?”

Unease fluttered through my senses.
The last thing I wanted was another

confrontation with this woman.

I respected her simply for the fact Paxton

employed her, and he trusted her to look out for his
best interest.

But she needed to understand I was there

because of Paxton.

Because he wanted me there and I wanted to be

there with him.

Because I cared about him and he cared about

me.

My chin lifted a fraction. “I don’t know what

situation you’re talking about.”

She scoffed. “There’s no need to play coy,

Kaylee. You’ve known what this was right from the
very start. You served your purpose and Paxton
served his.”

My head shook, and I took a step back as she

came closer. “What are you talking about?”

Her voice dropped into something wicked.

“You think you’re really different, don’t you? Did
you actually come here thinking you were going to
make the Paxton Myles fall for you? Did you really
think you were going to manage to sink your claws
into him so deeply they would actually stick?”

She edged in closer, so close to my face I could

almost taste the venom when a condescending tsk
jetted from between her lips. “You don’t mean
anything. You aren’t any different than any of the
thousands of other girls he’s taken to his bed. He
used you…fucked you…took you…and you let
him. But don’t worry, he’s more than willing to
compensate you for your time and effort.”

Dread pushed at my chest. Heavy and dense. I

took another floundering step backward, desperate
to put space between us. “You’re wrong. Paxton…
he…he cares about me.”

I needed to get out of there. I kept moving

back. Needing air so I could think.

She took another step toward me. When she

did, my back hit the wall.

She pulled an envelope from her black velvet

clutch. “Paxton wanted me to make sure you had
this.”

Tears pricked at my eyes. “You’re lying.”
She tore the small slip of paper free from the

envelope.

A check.
A check for One-hundred Thousand Dollars.
Nausea spun, and I choked back a sob. “No…

Pax…he wouldn’t…” The refusal stammered from
my tongue.

Images flashed.
Ones of us from earlier in the hotel room.
The shower.
More slammed me. Picture after picture of the

gorgeous women who’d been on his arm—gone the
next day.

“No.” It was a whimper.
Her head angled to the side. “Then why do you

think you’re in here and Paxton is out there? Why
do you think he removed you from his side and left
you in this room all by yourself? He’s had his fun
and now he’s bored with you, Kaylee. Now it’s
time for you to go home.”

I fought it. God, I fought it, but a single tear

slipped free. I gritted my teeth against it, just as
hard as I tightened my hands into fists. “No.”

She lifted the check. “He signed it, Kaylee. This

is his goodbye. Now…we have a driver waiting for
you out back to take you to pick up your things at

the hotel. You need to be at the airport in ninety
minutes to catch your flight.”

Anger burned.
So hot.
So unlike me.
But it was there, this ripping ache that felt too

much like heartbreak.

She shoved the check at my chest.
I tore it out of her hand.
She stepped back, her grin nothing but a cruel I

told you so.

I gripped it in a ball. “You think I want this?”
“Isn’t that what everyone wants? Money?

Fame? The chance to step out of their pathetic lives
just for a second, to glean a taste of what it might
feel like to live on the other side? You got your
fifteen seconds, Kaylee. It’s over. And I promise
you, if I ever see you anywhere next Paxton Myles
again, I will personally see to it that you regret it for
the rest of your life.”

There was nothing I could do to stop them.
Tears flooded free, hot streaks that undoubtedly

left rivers of black down my face.

Marks of shame and heartbreak and anger.
My laughter was grim and hurt when I looked at

her, the check like a white flag of surrender waved
between us. But I wasn’t going down without this
bitch knowing exactly where I stood.

I tore it into a hundred tiny pieces and tossed

them into the air.

For the first time, it was shock that widened her

eyes.

“Maybe Paxton chose to use me. But when I

told you I didn’t want anything from him other than
to be with him, I meant it. Maybe I saw something
in him I shouldn’t have seen. Maybe I am naïve and
simple and gullible.”

Maybe my one wild night had truly turned into

a nightmare. Maybe it would cause me the greatest
pain that I’d ever experienced after all.

I swallowed around the grief that threatened to

spill out. I looked to where the pieces of the check
were scattered around our feet on the plush
carpeted floor.

“But I will never be this person.”
I started for the door, before I turned and

looked at her from over my shoulder.

“And I am not for sale.”
Then I turned and fled.

Chapter 18

PAXTON

ACKSON

HERSON

WOULD

HAVE

TALKED

for

another hour if I let him. I feigned interest, but
honestly didn't give a shit what he had to say. My
thoughts were only on Kaylee and getting her back
to our suite. Fortunately, Kenneth stepped in and
pulled me away when Jackson showed no
reasonable attempts at letting up.

It's been an hour since I saw Kaylee, and my

heart beats wildly against my chest as I slink down
the dark hallway toward the green room. Never has
a woman completely consumed my thoughts like
Kaylee has. Never have I wanted to disappear from
Hollywood and hole up in a cabin in the middle of
nowhere with a woman I met mere days ago…until
Kaylee.

My eyes scan the greenroom, searching for her

in the sea of bodies that stand sipping on drinks and

having artificial conversations about absolutely
nothing of importance.

Kendall stands against the far wall, a tall

champagne glass propped in her hand as she laughs
at something the man she's speaking with has said.
Her head bouncing with short bouts of laughter
until she sees me. She stands up straighter, raising
her chin when she sees me approach, my eyes still
scanning the room for Kaylee.

“Where's Kay?” I ask, not giving a fuck about

interrupting her conversation.

“Don't be rude,” she scolds me, cocking an

eyebrow and pursing her lips. “Paxton, this is
Ransom Jae.” I've heard the name before. Some
new fucking Hollywood guy that everyone seems to
be getting their shit in a twist over. Honestly, he
looks like a boy-band dropout, nothing that really
sets him apart from every other twenty-something
Hollywood actor.

“What's up?” I ask, looking over his shoulder

for Kaylee only to see the crowd in the room
thinning as everyone begins to head out to one of
the many after parties that follow these screenings.
Just like the one where I met Kaylee.

Where is she?
I turn around, pinching my bottom lip between

my fingers as I try to figure out where she could be.
My feet shuffle across the carpet to Kenneth who
stands crouched down picking up little pieces of

paper off the floor with his right hand, with a cell
phone still pressed to his ear with his left.

He freezes as my feet stop just inches from his

fingers. “I have to go,” I hear him say with his thick
British accent, as he shoves his phone down into
one of his suit-jacket pockets.

“What are you doing?” I ask him as he stands

straight up, his eyes meeting mine. His face is void
of any expression as he swallows hard, his Adams
apple bouncing nervously in his throat.

It's as if he's looking through me, and I turn

around to see what he's looking at.

Or rather, who.
Kendall stands tall, her shoulders square with

her head shaking from side to side in a silent
warning to Kenneth.

He inhales and narrows his eyes at Kendall, a

war of unspoken words raging between the two of
them. “I think you'll want this,” he says, quietly
dropping the pieces of paper into my hand. “I'm
going to see if I can find Kaylee.” He shoots a
pointed look over my shoulder directly at Kendall
as I decipher what in the hell is happening.

I look at the palm of my hand with shreds of

paper, and I can tell I'm holding a check, but what
it's for is beyond me. As I inspect the pieces more
closely, I can see the letters 'Kay' handwritten in
Kendall's distinct handwriting.

I turn around to see Kendall standing tall in

defiance, her chin raised as I slowly begin to piece
everything together.

“Where's Kaylee,” I ask again through gritted

teeth. Kendall's obstinance is starting to wear on
my nerves as anger begins to set in. I'm done
fucking around with Kendall and her petty bullshit.

She waves her free hand dismissing my

concern. “She's headed back to the States, where
she belongs. This charade needed to end, so I ended
it.” Her lips twist into a fake smile before she
finishes off the rest of her champagne, smacking
her lips when she finishes.

With one long stride, I reach out and grab

Kendall's arm, never having touched a woman in
such an aggressive manner before. The delicate
champagne glass falls from her hand and to the
floor, shattering into a million little pieces at our
feet.

“Pax!” she says with a hush as I yank her

toward me.

“Where the fuck is she,” I bark at her, causing

her eyes to widen in fear. I've let Kendall run the
show for too fucking long. She's my publicist, not
my handler.

“Probably on her way to the airport right about

now.” She glances at the large clock on the wall in
the green room. “Her flight is scheduled to leave in
an hour.”

An hour. Sixty minutes. There is no way I'll

make it to Heathrow in sixty minutes at this time of
day. I squeeze Kendall's arm, and she gasps,
“You're fired!” I tell her, anger seething with every
word.

“You have crossed the line, Kendall. For years,

I have been patient with you, allowing you to make
decisions that weren’t yours to make. I trusted you,
as my publicist to have my back. But this…you
know how I feel about Kaylee. I told you what I
had with Kaylee was different and you were so
threatened by that, that you just had to try and
destroy the one thing that has made me genuinely
happy. Well, fuck you, Kendall. Fuck you.”

I spit the words in her face. Her eyes wide at

my outburst. I release her arm and take a step
backward as I try to figure out how in the hell I can
get to Kaylee.

“Kenneth!” I shout and he appears at my side

almost instantly.

“I'm already on it,” he cuts in. “I'm making calls

to every airline. I don't know that they'll stop her
from boarding, but I'll do my best.” He offers me a
sympathetic look. “I've already requested Ronald
bring the car around. He'll meet us at the back
entrance.”

I nod in appreciation. Thank God for Kenneth.
“This way.” He points to a door that will take us

out the back way.

The alley smells of piss and garbage, but Ronald

is waiting with the door open when we exit the
back of the theater. He hurries us inside the car
while Kenneth continues to call every airline with
flights to the United States.

Meanwhile, I'm blowing up Kaylee's phone with

texts and phone calls, only each one is met with a
return message that I've been blocked.

“Fuck!” I scream and toss my phone across the

limo to the seat next to Kenneth. He eyes me
carefully as he continues to speak in a professional
tone.

“I'm looking for a passenger, Kaylee Burton.

She's left something here in London that we're
trying to get to her before she leaves,” he speaks
calmly and professionally. “Yes, I understand you
can't tell me if she's on your flight…” I can hear his
voice growing more agitated with each call and my
anxiety continues to spiral out of control.

“Then tell me what flights you have leaving

Heathrow to anywhere in the U.S. tonight?” he
asks. His pen anxiously tapping a small leather-
bound notebook on his lap. “Fourteen fifty-two to
LaGuardia, what time? Nope. What else?”

He chances a quick glance at me as I grow

more agitated by every passing second. My hands
are balled into fists at my side and I take long
breaths as I try to calm myself.

“Flight eight-hundred to Los Angeles at eleven

o'clock.” His voices hitches, and he looks at the

watch on his wrist before scribbling down the
information. “Thank you.” He sets his phone down
on the notebook.

“No one will tell us what flight she's on. I've

checked with every airline and American is the
only with a flight tonight that leaves in about forty
minutes. That has to be the one she's on.”

I nod and swallow hard. “Good work,

Kenneth,” I'm barely able to muster through my
anger-ridden anxiety. Ronald weaves in and out of
traffic, but with every stoplight we hit, my hope
grows weaker at catching Kaylee before she leaves.

Kenneth taps out messages and makes hushed

calls as I stare out the window as rain begins to fall.
I count the beads of water that fall against the
tinted window, losing count somewhere in the three
hundreds.

My anger has turned to sadness, and my hope

quickly dissolves as we enter the departures area of
Heathrow airport. How Ronald weaves this beast of
a car in and out of the traffic is beyond me, but he
manages to get me right up to the American
departures curb.

I jump from the car and Kenneth is hot on my

heels. He hands me my phone and tells me a
boarding pass is waiting for me in my email. I jog
through the airport, and I begin to see flashing
lights and shrills of excitement as I approach a
security checkpoint. I tap my phone, pulling up my

email, and I see Kenneth pleading with an official
looking man.

It's rare that I fly commercial flights and I'm

usually ushered from one private lounge to the next
as I board private planes owned by production
studios and other Hollywood elite. This trip was
one of the rare cases.

I feign a happy smile as people try to take my

picture and shout my name from their spots in the
security line. When security staff assess the
commotion I'm causing, they make an exception
and take me through a side entrance for a quick and
private screening. I owe Kenneth a raise. A big one,
if I can make it to Kaylee in time. He nods at me
from the other side of security and motions for me
to call him with an update.

My hearts races, as the flight door should be

closing in approximately two minutes, and I have to
make it across the terminal to her gate.

I jump on a motorized cart and offer the driver

more money than he probably makes in a month to
get me across the airport to her gate. We weave
through crowds of travelers, the cart swaying with
each sharp turn. My heart beats rapidly as the shrill
horn beeps in warning of our approach.

The cart comes to a sudden halt at the furthest

gate, and the driver points excitedly at the door
that's already been closed. I leap from the cart and
nearly knock over casual travelers standing in the

gate area.

I slap my hand on the desk and the gate agent

quickly looks up from her computer. “How may I
help you, sir?” she asks with her thick British
accent.

“I need to get on that flight, I have a seat.” I

shove my phone in her face with the boarding pass
loaded. She shakes her head without even looking
at my phone. “The plane has already pulled from
the gate.” She points over her shoulder with her
thumb. There I see the large white plane backing
away from the gate with the lights flashing on the
wings.

“Goddammit!” I scream and slap my hand on

the counter in frustration.

“Sir!” she scolds me.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper. “I really needed to get

on that flight—” My voice breaks. “I really needed
to get to someone on that flight.” I rake my hands
over my face and up through my hair as I concede
to the flight gods that it’s not going to happen.

She smiles sympathetically at me. “Customer

service can rebook your flight for you. We have
another flight leaving early tomorrow morning.”
She shuts down her computer and grabs her
belongings from under the desk before sauntering
away.

I walk, my head hanging in defeat, to the large

windows that overlook the gate and runways. The

American Airlines flight carrying Kaylee taxis
farther away until it turns down a runway, and I
lose sight of it completely.

My heart breaks into a million pieces as that

metal tube carries everything I never knew I
wanted. Without a doubt in my mind, I have fallen
head over heels in love with Kaylee.

“I love you Kaylee, and I will make this right,”

I whisper to myself, only I'm not sure if it's too late
for us or not.

Chapter 19

KAYLEE

“W

HAT

YOU

MEAN

, it didn’t go through?” I

screeched, way too high and loud as my fingers
curled into the counter. But I couldn’t help it. Not
with the way a fresh round of panic that surged
through my body.

It was like pouring kerosene on the fiery

heartbreak that burned inside of me.

Dread and alarm and the threat of hysteria.
Right there in the middle of Heathrow Airport.
Just awesome.
I’d already missed the flight Paxton had been so

kind to book me, not that I would have taken it,
anyway.

Not while I had a scrap of pride left in me.
Not a chance.
At least the paparazzi didn’t give a crap about

me anymore now that Pax had tossed me aside like

a used-up piece of garbage.

A rumble of annoyance rippled through the long

line of people waiting to check in behind me.

They were just going to have to wait. Because I

wasn’t moving from this spot until I figured out a
way to get out of here.

I needed to go home.
Where it was safe, and I could leave all of this

insanity behind me. Where I could pick up the
pieces and lick my wounds, try to heal from a blow
that I should have seen coming from a million miles
away.

Only I hadn’t.
And it hurt all the worse.
The ticket agent cocked her head in her own

annoyance, looking at me as if I were daft. “It
means, your credit card was not approved for the
transaction. In other words, declined.”

“Are you sure? Try it again.”
A huff from her nose. “I’ve already run it five

times. I’m sure the sixth will not change the
balance on your account.”

“Please,” I pleaded.
With a shake of her head, she ran it again, the

saccharine smile she plastered on her face telling
me nothing but I told you so as she slipped my card
back to me. “I’m sorry, but unless you have another
means of payment, there’s nothing I can do to help
you.”

I rubbed my temples, fighting another round of

tears.

How could this be happening?
A rush of anger spiraled through my senses.
Oh, there was a clear answer for that.
Bottom-line—Paxton Myles was a jerk.
A horrible, terrible, lying, manipulative jerk

who’d taken advantage of me.

And I’d let him.
Like a fool, I’d let him, and now here I was,

stranded in a foreign country without a dime to my
name.

Just great.
Those tears in my eyes burned hot, and I

slumped down as resignation came sliding in.

Overwhelming.
Overbearing.
I choked, nodded in acceptance. “Thank you

for your help.” Really, the only help she’d aided in
was driving the knife a little deeper into my
bleeding heart.

Reminding me the cost of being a

#PaxtonMylesSlut.

Kendall’s words rang through my mind like a

tease. Did I really think I was any different? Did I
really think he cared about me? Did I really think I
was anything more to him than another conquest,
easy entertainment, until something better came
his way?

My heart squeezed.
Squeezed so tightly I felt the physical pain of it.
Because I had.
I’d thought he was so much different than the

tabloids made him out to be.

My hands were shaking when I slung the strap

of my carry-on bag over my shoulder and grabbed
the handle of my suitcase. I dragged it behind me,
my footsteps weak as I stumbled away from the
counter.

I looked around, and a choked cry scraped from

my raw throat when it all finally came crashing
down.

I had no place to go.
No money.
And I was going to have to suck it up and call

Elle to bail me out.

It was all weighted and compounded by this

stupid broken heart.

My free card had cost me everything.
Away from the crowds, I sank down onto a row

of seats and dropped my face into my hands.

I tried to hide it. To keep it quiet. But another

sob tore free. This time loud and ripping. Full of the
pain that roared inside of me.

It hurt.
God, it hurt, and I hated that it did. But I’d

fallen for a fairytale when I knew they weren’t real.

With my face buried in my hands, I sobbed.

These big, heaving sobs. Scrubbing my hands over
my face, I sniffled and tried to compose myself.

It was time I pulled up my big girl panties and

figured out a way to get home.

I lifted my head and my shoulders.
I blinked through the tears.
Great.
Now I was hallucinating.
I’d lost my job and my heart and now I was

going to lose my mind.

Because my breath hitched when I saw a man

riding down the escalator, wearing the same tux
minus the jacket I swore Paxton had worn to the
premiere, his head dropped between his shoulders
while he anxiously roughed his fingers through his
brown hair.

Every part of me stirred in recognition.
Stop it, I silently scolded myself, hoping it

wasn’t actually uttered aloud like the crazy person I
was becoming. Because, let’s be real, the last thing
I needed was to start talking to myself.

Then the man’s head snapped up.
Brown eyes.
Chiseled face.
The man who owned hearts around the world.
Most notably mine.
Shock flashed across his face, before it shifted

into the most striking sort of relief.

It was all mixed with remorse and a hundred

apologies.

My heart thudded in my chest.
It was him.
It was really him.
And I didn’t know if I wanted to drop to my

knees in my own relief or rush across the floor and
pound my fists into his chest.

Or maybe kiss him and beg him to never let me

go.

Because the hurt and shame he’d caused me

still tumbled through me like jagged, sharp rocks
that scraped my insides, while hope blossomed
bright.

He was there.
He stepped off the escalator and then stopped,

staring at me from across the space. Unable to stop
myself, I pushed to my feet, the breaths jutting
from my lungs.

Hurt and hope and this love I shouldn’t feel

spun around me like a windstorm.

They filled the air between us, and for the

longest time, we just stood there…staring.

As if we were both trying to catch up to the

moment.

Then his feet were moving, long strides eating

up the floor, before his big hands were on my face
and his mouth was on mine and he was kissing me.

Kissing me possessively and tenderly at the

same time.

I gasped out, my hands curling in the fabric of

his shirt.

“Oh, God, Kaylee…I thought I’d lost you.

Fuck, I thought I’d lost you. Thank God, thank
God.” The words were a rumble against my lips,
and confusion spun through my mind.

“Why?” The cry escaped up my throat. “Why

would you do this to me?”

Why did you change your mind? Why are you

here?

He pulled back, still holding my face in his

hands. “How could you think I would? After
everything I told you, Kaylee? You really think I’d
offer you a check as a parting gift?”

“I…” I stammered, searching the sincerity of

his face.

“Kendall has always thought she knows what’s

best for me. She’s been controlling my life for
years, and I’ve let her. Because none of that shit
really mattered to me, Kaylee. I let her make
decisions for me, because in the end, it didn’t
matter because I didn’t care. Nothing mattered. Not
until you.”

“Oh.” It left me on a shocked breath.
He dropped his forehead to mine. “She’s gone,

Kaylee. The second I found out what she did, I
fired her, because I won’t let anything come
between you and me.” He pulled back, those eyes
latching on mine. “Do you understand what I’m

telling you?”

I blinked up at him, my heart a stampede in my

chest. “You want me?” I whispered.

“Fuck. Do I want you?” His brow pinched and

he tightened his hold. “I fucking love you, Kaylee. I
fucking love you the way I’ve never loved anyone,
and I’m not going to let you go. Tell me you feel the
same. Tell me all this bullshit is worth it.”

“You’re worth everything.” The words were

soggy, and my hands were shaking when I reached
up and scratched my nails across his perfect jaw.
“Everything. I love you so much. So much it should
be impossible, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“Oh, thank God.” Quickly, he wrapped me up

in his arms, my arms pinned between us as if he
wanted to grab onto every part of me, the man
holding me so tight it almost hurt.

Kind of the way I loved him.
I could feel his smile at the top of my head.

“Good…now that that’s cleared up, I’m taking you
back to the hotel so I can fuck you until you don’t
forget it.”

I pulled back and stared up at his face. “I’m

sorry…I…I never should have doubted you.”

Gazing down at me, he brushed back a piece of

hair matted to my face. “It’s okay. I never should
have left you alone when I knew Kendall wanted
you out of the picture.”

I flinched. “I never wanted to make things

complicated for you.”

He grinned that smile that I’d always known

would wreck me. “Don’t ever stop making things
complicated for me, baby. That’s just the way I like
it. Let the rest of the world think what they like. As
long as I’ve got you and you’ve got me, that’s all
we need.”

A soggy smile pulled across my mouth. “Okay.”
“Come on.” He grabbed my bag and slung it

over his shoulder, pulled me to his side, and took
the handle of my case, and started us out toward
the entrance. Kenneth was suddenly there, grabbing
my things, sending me a secret smile.

Kenneth loaded my bags into the car, and Pax

crawled into the car, pulling me right onto his lap.

Silence filled the car as Ronald drove us back to

the hotel, Paxton’s hand cinched down tight on my
leg the whole way, my arms around his neck.

He said nothing when we pulled to the curb and

Kenneth opened the door, Paxton shifting me
around to slide out first before he helped me out.

Paparazzi crowded behind a red rope on the

sidewalk, flash after flash striking my eyes when
we stepped out.

Pax didn’t hesitate.
He pulled me into his arms and he kissed me.
Kissed me for the world to see.
A statement.
A promise.

Then, without a word, he pulled me into the

hotel, tension binding in the air as we rode the
elevator to our floor.

He let us into the silence, and I turned to look at

him as he snapped shut the door and locked it.

He turned back to look at me.
The shadowy darkness bated.
The man so beautiful he made me weak in the

knees. He started to work the buttons of his shirt.
“Who do you trust, Kaylee?”

Shivers rolled. “You,” I stammered.
He shucked free of his shirt. “Good. Don’t ever

believe what the tabloids print or what someone
else tells you. If you have an issue or questions, you
come to me. Okay?”

“Okay, I promise.”
“Good. Now come here…I didn’t get to unwrap

you from that red dress I’ve been fantasizing about
all night. The entire premiere, the only thing I could
think about was peeling it from this body. What a
waste,” he teased, his voice dripping with
seduction. “Put it back on so we can pick up where
we left off. I’d been about half an hour from
bringing you back here and ravaging you until the
sun came up.”

A giggle slipped free, and I glanced at where the

red dress still lied in a crumpled pile where I’d left
it when I’d flown into the room three hours before,
a heartbroken mess. I’d changed quickly and

grabbed the few things I had brought with me
before I was in a cab taking me to the airport.

Who would have thought I’d end up back here?
Sobering, I told him, “When I came back to this

room tonight, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

I watched the thick bob of his throat as he

edged closer. “And when I found out you’d left, I
knew I’d do whatever it took to find you. Find you
and convince you that you belonged with me.”

“I think my heart knew it all along. My first

instinct was to refuse what Kendall was telling me.”

He set his hand over my heart. “Guess this

knows exactly where it belongs.”

He let his fingertips flutter down my belly.
I shook.
“And I’m pretty sure this body knows it, too.”
Beneath his touch, a moan tremored free. “All

of me, Pax.” I bit my lip and looked him in the eye.
“And you…you belong to me.”

It didn’t matter if he was famous.
Adored by millions.
He was mine.
I flicked the button on his pants and freed the

zipper.

Pax chuckled. “Oh. Seems someone has finally

figured out what she wants. It’s about damned
time.”

I peeked up at him as I pushed the pants from

his hips. “I’ve always known I’ve wanted you. I

just always thought it was a fantasy.”

His big hands pushed up under my shirt,

drawing it over my head. Cool air brushed across
my heated skin.

“I am a fantasy, baby. Yours. And you are

always going to be mine.”

I squealed when he suddenly picked me up and

tossed me on the bed. Laughter jolted free, and I
pushed up onto my elbows and watched as he
twisted out of his underwear, a smirk riding his face
as his cock jumped free.

The man so magnificently bare.
I swallowed hard. “You are so beautiful.”
He dipped down and blazed a path of kisses

across my belly, murmuring the whole time, “Not
even close to being as beautiful as you.”

He dragged down my leggings and underwear.

He kissed the inside of my thigh. “Beautiful….”

He pressed another at my pubic bone. “So

fucking beautiful.”

Crawling onto the bed, he edged up and pressed

a kiss right over my heart. “Inside—”

Then he was hovering over me, his face inches

away. The man was so beautiful he stole my breath.

“And out.”
He cupped the side of my face. “All of you,

Kaylee. I love you.”

“I love you,” I whispered back.
“Good.”

I gasped.
It was a gasp of shock and pleasure.
Because Pax took me.
Took me in the way only he could.
Filling me in a possessive thrust.
My fingers sank into his shoulders. “Pax.”
“Feel good, sweet girl?” He uttered the same

thing to me as he’d done the first night when I’d
gone home with him. Somehow then, it’d felt like a
threat.

Tonight?
It felt like another promise.
That he’d spend his life keeping it.
“The best thing I’ve ever felt,” I whispered

where my face was pressed to his soft flesh at the
crook between his neck and shoulder, feeling the
erratic thrum of his pulse against my lips.

His arm hooked around the top of my head. He

drew me closer, our mouths a breath apart as he
began to move.

Deep, slow, possessive.
Mind-altering strokes that marked me.
Claimed me.
“You are perfection,” he murmured back. “So

tight and wet and hot. Made for me.” His mouth
moved to my ear, the words whispering across the
shell, sending a wave of chills sliding down my
body. “Just like I was made for you.”

And our bodies moved in the dim lights that

bled from the ceiling.

Shadows that became solid.
Bound.
Tied.
Us.
I stared up at him as he made love to me.
For this first time his touch tender.
I sent him the softest smile.
My own promise.
Because my one wild night had become my

forever.

EPILOGUE

PAXTON

“Y

JUST

HAD

to adopt two of them didn't you,

Kaylee?”

“They're brothers. I couldn't separate them!”

She bounces up and down excitedly in the sand as
the two little basset hound puppies wrestle with
each other at our feet. Two little puppies that are
wild and curious and full of energy, and Kaylee's
sweet heart just couldn't say no to leaving one of
them behind.

Just what have we gotten ourselves into?
“Someone abandoned them, Pax. Who does

that? These were the last two at the shelter, and I
fell in love with both of them.” Her voice trails off.

“You know what I love most about you?” I pull

gently on one of the leashes, guiding the little guy
I've got on my leash off his brother.

“What?” She pulls the other one away, finally

getting them apart.

“Your heart.” I've never met someone who is so

genuinely caring about everyone and everything
around her. Doesn't matter if it's a person, an
animal, or the environment. She's convinced trees
have feelings. She smiles up at me. “I mean it,
Kay.” She blushes at my admission.

“You know what I love most about you?” She

squints one eye as the afternoon sun bounces off
the Pacific Ocean and right into her eye.

“What?”
“How determined you are. How you never give

up. How you fight for everything you want.”

“Like you?” I chuckle, and she swats my arm.
“Seriously, Pax. You just landed your dream job

—”

“Stop right there, Kaylee. I’m blessed to have

this job. I am. But at the end of the day, it's just a
job. I can get any other job, any other day. You're
what's important to me.”

“You're what's important to me, too.” She leans

in, wrapping her arms around me, tangling the
leashes in the process.

“I love you, Kay.”
“I love you more, Pax. More than you could

ever imagine.” I hear her voice crack with emotion.
She rests her head against my chest, and I take in
the scent of her coconut shampoo. To think I almost
lost her because of a jealous publicist makes my

heart sink and my stomach churn. But she's here,
with me, and I'm never letting her go.

“Kaylee?”
She pulls away, releasing her grasp on me. She

looks up at me with the biggest blue eyes I've ever
seen. Eyes that I can see my future in. Happiness.
Peace. Marriage. Babies. Growing old together.
She's it for me. I clear my throat and choke down
the growing lump in my throat.

“Marry me. Show me you'll be mine forever.”
“What?” she says, pulling completely out of my

arms.

“You heard me. Marry me, Kaylee Rose

Burton. Make me the happiest man in the world. Be
my wife. Be the mother of my children. Be mine.
Forever. Please say you'll marry me.”

Her eyes begin to mist over, and her hands

begin to shake. I pull the small velvet box from the
front pocket of my shorts and drop to one knee on
the soft sand.

“Kaylee, do me the honor of being my wife. Let

me love you forever, and always.” I flip the lid
open, and she falls to her knees directly in front of
me as she reaches for the box with her trembling
hand.

A perfect four-carat princess cut diamond sits

perched on a simple platinum band. I went for
classic and understated, yet stunning. Just like
Kaylee.

“Yes, oh my God, yes!” she says, her voice

breaking. I pull the ring from the box and slide it
onto her left ring finger as tears fall from her eyes
and slide down her soft cheeks. I hate seeing her
cry, but I know these are happy tears. “I can't
believe this is happening,” she says under her
breath as she wipes her cheeks with the back of her
hand.

“From the moment I met you, Kaylee, I knew

you were different. You were more than one night
to me—you were my future. I knew that I wanted
you to be mine forever.”

“Forever,” she whispers.
“Forever,” I respond.
We sit quietly on the beach, Kaylee wrapped in

my arms as the puppies rest next to us in the sand.
This is what happiness feels like. The woman you
love wrapped in your arms, the cast of the setting
sun, and sleeping puppies.

“What should we name them?” I ask as Kaylee

drags her left hand down the long soft ear of the
little guy lying next to her, rolling her new
engagement ring between her fingers.

“Clooney and Pitt?” she says with a laugh.
“You want me to show up on set next month

and tell George that my fiancée named our dogs
after him and Brad?”

She tips her head back and laughs. A deep,

resounding laugh. The kind of laugh that tells me

she's happy—and I'm so fucking in love with her
and that laugh.

“Yes.” She twists in my arms and presses her

lips to mine. Soft and supple, warm and inviting.
“They’re cute, just like Brad and George.” I shake
my head and chuckle.

“Let's go.” I nudge her. “We have to get ready

for tonight then I have plans for us.”

I stand up and brush the sand from the back of

my shorts. I help Kaylee up, and she does the same.

“Oh, yeah, like what?” She smirks, knowing

damn well what I have planned. Devouring her
sexy fucking body over and over again until we
both pass out.

“If I told you we'll never make it to the Oscars.

Now let's get Clooney and Pitt home.” I wink at
her, and she smiles back. She knows what she's in
for.

I shake my head at the names Kaylee has

picked out. Fucking Clooney and Pitt. Only Kaylee
could convince me to let her name our dogs after
two of Hollywood’s leading men.

As we walk down the beach and toward the

path to the Malibu beach home we just purchased, I
take one last look at the beach, the setting sun, and
at Kaylee. Everything in this moment is beautiful
and perfect, and I can't wipe the smile off my face.

I step out of the limo and gently help Kaylee to her
feet. Before I even turn around, a young voice is at
my side calling my name.

“Mr. Myles, I'm Abigail, your publicist. I'll be

getting you through the press line this evening.” She
smiles at me, before looking at Kaylee who is
adjusting her dress. “Ms. Burton.” She nods at
Kaylee, who offers her a hand to shake which she
takes.

This is my first big event without Kendall. She

was always by my side for premieres, press tours,
and award ceremonies, guiding me through the
press line and ensuring I was talking to the most
influential reporters in Hollywood. I accepted
Kendall's resignation after the incident in London,
and my agent has been less than enthused that I've
yet to hire a new publicist, so he hired one to help
me get through this premiere.

“Shall we?” I gesture to the red carpet laid out

before us. Abigail raises her hand to stop me,
before glancing quickly at her clipboard and back
to Kaylee and I. Squaring her shoulders and lifting
her chin in a show of confidence, she licks her lips
before speaking.

“You two made quite an appearance on the

beach today. Puppies and an engagement…” She
looks up from her clip board through her long
lashes at me. “You're on the front page of every
entertainment site and not because you’re expected

to win actor in a leading role.” She rubs her
eyebrow, looking distressed. “I've given instructions
that there are no personal questions, but with
today's events, I can't guarantee—”

“What are my odds?” I ask, flashing Abigail a

smile. Abigail blinks rapidly, not sure how to
answer my question. “What are the odds of me
winning? You know, they bet on this shit in Vegas.”

She shakes her head and looks at her clipboard

as if it’ll magically have the answer before she
starts pounding away on her phone.

“Relax,” I interrupt. The word is meant for both

Abigail and Kaylee. Abigail let’s out a breath and
looks to Kaylee before they both look at me.
“We're not hiding the engagement, but tonight is
about the Oscars. That's our focus and those are the
questions I'll answer,” I tell Abigail before turning
to Kaylee. “And you. Breathe. Smile. You're
beautiful. You're my fiancée, we have nothing to
hide. Don't hide your hand or that ring, and you do
not have to answer any questions you don't want to.
This is just another night, nothing is any different
from any other red-carpet event.”

Kaylee nods and takes a deep breath and

Abigail glances sideways while mumbling, “Just the
Oscars.”

I can see how this must be overwhelming to

both women so I try to lighten the tone of my
voice. “Now let's do this, okay?” I tell both of

them.

“One hundred to one,” Abigail says before

leading us away from the limo and down the red
carpet past the first group of reporters.

Fucking one hundred to one. Those are my

odds. I swallow hard and plaster on my best smile.
One hundred and one would have pissed me off last
year, but this year…I’ve already won. I have the
most beautiful woman in the world, and that is all I
need.

“Paxton! Is it true you and Kaylee are

engaged?”

“Paxton! Kaylee! Over here!”
There are literally a million flashes, so many

that it's blinding. Kaylee's laced fingers through
mine squeeze my hand so tightly it feels like a vice.

We stop on the red carpet and all the reporters

huddle together taking our picture. One after
another they shout questions at Kaylee and me.

“Are you engaged?”
“Is it true Kaylee is expecting?”
“Will there be a Hollywood wedding?”
“Are the puppies rescued or from a breeder?”
“Are you excited to work with George Clooney

and Brad Pitt?”

“What are your thoughts on the scandals

rocking Hollywood?”

Question after question is fired at us, and I

don’t give a shit about any of them because the

only thing that matters to me right now is smiling up
at me. I'm a fucking lucky bastard for living the life
I do. Fame, fortune, and a job most would kill for.
But honestly, I'm the fucking luckiest guy in the
world because who knew that one wild night could
turn into forever.

The End

Did you love Paxton and Kaylee’s story?

Read on for samples of A.L. Jackson and Rebecca

Shea’s novels!

PART I

SHOW ME THE WAY

A.L. JACKSON

PROLOGUE

Alabama - Eleven Years Ago

AIN

PELTED

from the angry sky, and heavy gusts of

wind howled through the trees, which thrashed in
the blackened night. In agony, I ran, sure my heart
had to be beating as loud as the thunder that
cracked through the heavens above.

I gasped when my foot slipped on the slick,

muddy ground, and I stumbled forward, landing
hard on my hands and knees. I cried out, unsure
where the pain was coming from—my mind or my
heart or my torn flesh.

Why would they do this to me?
I wept toward the ground, stricken with grief,

with betrayal, before I heaved myself back onto my
feet, trying to find traction. I staggered toward the
house, which was lit up like warmth and light just

off the road. Clutching the wooden railing, I
propelled myself forward and then flung open the
door and fumbled inside.

I whimpered in misery when I paused to look

around the room. Loss hit me as hard as the storm
that raged outside.

Why would they do this to me? How could they

be so cruel?

It took about all I had, but I forced myself to

move, knowing I couldn’t stay. I had to leave. I had
to get away. Choking back sobs, I clung to the
banister and hauled myself upstairs and to my
room. Knees caked in mud and blood, I dropped to
the floor and dug out the suitcase from beneath the
bed. I staggered to my feet and headed for the
closet.

Tears clouding my vision, I tore clothes from

their hangers and shoved them into the suitcase I’d
tossed onto the bed, my movements becoming more
frantic with each piece I ripped from its spot. The
urge to escape only intensified when I moved to the
dresser. Distraught, I ripped the drawers from their
rails and tipped them upside down, dumping what
would fit into the suitcase.

The whole time, I struggled to restrain the sobs

bound in my throat. To keep them quiet. To pretend
it hadn’t happened. To pretend I didn’t have to do
this.

With shaking fingers, I tugged at the zipper.

“Rynna, what’s going on?” The sleepy voice

filled with concern hit me from behind.

Torment lashed like the crack of a whip. My

eyes slammed closed, and the words trembled from
my mouth. “I’m so sorry, Gramma, but I’ve got to
go.”

The floor creaked with my grandmother’s

footsteps. She sucked in a breath when she rounded
me, shocked by my battered appearance. “Oh my
lord, what happened to you?” Her voice quivered.
“Who hurt you? Tell me, Rynna. Who hurt you? I
won’t stand for it.”

Vigorously, I shook my head, finding the lie.

“No one. I just . . . I can’t stay in this stupid town
for a second more. I’m going to find Mama.”

I hated it. The way the mention of my mother

contorted my gramma’s face in agony.

“What are you sayin’?”
“I’m saying, I’m leaving.”
A weathered hand reached out to grip my

forearm. “But graduation is just next month.
You’ve got to do your speech. Walk across the
stage in your cap and gown. Never seen anyone so
excited about somethin’ in all my life. Now you’re
just gonna up and leave? If you can’t trust me, then
you can’t trust anyone. Tell me what happened
tonight. You left here just as happy as a bug in a
rug, and now you aren’t doing anything but runnin’
scared.”

Tears streaking down my dirty cheeks, I forced

myself to look at the woman who meant everything
to me. “You’re the only person I can trust,
Gramma. That’s why I’ve got to go. Let’s leave it at
that.”

Anguish creased my grandmother’s aged face.

“Rynna, I won’t let you just walk out like this.”

She reached out and brushed a tear from under

my eye. Softly, she tilted her head to the side, that
same tender smile she had watched me with at least
a million times hinting at the corner of her mouth.
“Don’t you ever forget, if you aren’t laughing,
you’re crying. Now, which would you rather be
doin’?” She paused, and I couldn’t bring myself to
answer. “Wipe those tears, and let’s figure
something out. Just like we always do.”

Sadness swelled like its own being in the tiny

room. Loss. Regret. Like an echo of every breath
of encouragement my grandmother had ever
whispered in my ear. “I can’t stay here, Gramma.
Please don’t ask me to.”

With the plea, my grandmother winced.

Quickly, I dipped down to place a lingering kiss to
her cheek, breathing in the ever-present scent of
vanilla and sugar, committing it to memory.

I tugged my suitcase from the bed and started

for the door.

Gramma reached for me, fingertips brushing my

arm, begging, “Rynna, don’t go. Please, don’t leave

me like this. There’s nothing that’s so bad that I
won’t understand. That we can’t fix.”

I didn’t slow. Didn’t answer.
I ran.
And I didn’t look back.

Chapter 1

RYNNA

EAFY

SHADOWS

FLASHED

across the windshield,

interspersed by the blinding strikes of sunlight that
burned from the sky as my car passed beneath the
heavy canopy of trees where I traveled the winding
two-lane road.

The closer I got, the harder my heart beat

within the confines of my chest and the shallower
my breaths grew. Cinching down on the steering
wheel, I peered out at the worn sign on the side of
the road.

Welcome to Gingham Lakes, Alabama, where

the grass is actually greener and the people are
sweeter.

Anxiety clawed through my nerves.
It’d been eleven years and what felt like a

lifetime since I left the small city that could hardly
be considered more than a town. I’d promised

myself I’d never come back.

And there I was.
I just wished I had broken that promise sooner.

Not when it already felt as if it were too late.

“Earth to Ryn.”
I jumped when the voice boomed through the

car speakers. I was losing it. It seemed fitting. I’d
been questioning my sanity ever since I’d signed on
that dotted line.

“Are you there, or have I already lost you to

the Deep South?” Macy asked. I could almost see
her raising a dark brow at me.

“You really are dead set on breaking my fragile

heart, aren’t you?” she continued. “You left me
here to fend for myself. Not a soul to go out with
on Friday nights and no one to make me miracle
hangover breakfasts on Saturday mornings. That’s a
travesty. Don’t you dare shred it more by
pretending I don’t even exist. BFFs, remember?
Don’t forget it, or I’ll show up with the sole
purpose of kicking your skinny ass. Oh, and to get
back those black jeans I know you stole. I’ve been
looking for them for the last two days. I bet you
have them hidden at the bottom of one of those
boxes.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I barely managed to tease

through the thickness that lined my throat. “Where
those jeans probably are is under your bed in that
disaster of a room. You’re worse than a twelve-

year-old boy.”

I was doing my best to inject a smile into my

voice, but there was no disguising the hitch in my
words as I rounded the bend and the town came
into view in the valley below.

Gingham Lakes.
God, it was beautiful.
The valley was a vast expanse of green. Flush

with abundant, flourishing trees. The massive lake
tucked at the base of the opposite mountain range
appeared little more than a glittering mirage in the
far distance, the river so serene and calm where it
ran through the middle of the city and segmented it
into the two mirrored-halves.

This place was filled with the best and the worst

of memories.

With the best of people and the worst of

enemies.

There was only one person who ever could

have persuaded me to return.

Leave it to Gramma to do it in the sneakiest of

ways.

“Tell me you aren’t having second thoughts

now that you’ve driven all the way across the
country? By yourself, mind you, since you refused
to let me come. You act as if I’d be a nuisance
instead of a help. I can lift like . . . a thousand
pounds. Pretty sure I’m the best mover in all the
history of movers.”

“Says the girl who thought it was a good idea to

let a box filled with glasses tumble down a flight of
stairs rather than carrying it down.”

Macy chuckled. “Don’t be jealous. Just add

creative to my list of skills.”

“Creator of disasters, you mean.”
She feigned a gasp. “I take full offense to that. I

even made pizza and didn’t catch the apartment on
fire.”

“No,” I ribbed.
“Truth.”
Quiet laughter rolled free as that heaviness

throbbed. “I’m going to miss you, Mace.”

Right then, San Francisco felt a million miles

away. An alternate galaxy. Really, it was just a
different reality than the one I was headed toward.

Somber silence filled the space, and Macy

lowered her voice. “Are you sure this is really what
you want? You left the city you love and an
incredible apartment downtown. You resigned from
a job any one of us would kill to have. Hell, you
were halfway up the corporate ladder. Worst, you
left me.”

My heart clutched while I fought with the urge

to turn around and head back to San Francisco. I
wasn’t that broken girl who’d run from Gingham
Lakes eleven years ago. I was strong, and I sure as
hell wasn’t a quitter. “You know why I have to do
this.”

“I do, and I know how hard it has to be for

you.”

Grief pressed at my spirit. The perfect

complement to the determination that lined me like
steel. “It is, but I need to do this for her almost as
much as I need to do it for myself.”

“This city won’t be the same without you,

Ryn.” In all the years I’d lived with Macy, I’d only
seen her cry once. I knew she was trying to hold it
back. Still, the soft sounds seeped through the line,
touching me from across the miles.

I pressed a hand over my mouth and tried to

keep the jumble of emotions that quivered and
shook inside me at bay. “You’ll come visit.”

She released a soggy laugh. “Hell no. There are,

like, alligators down there. One look at all my lush,
curvy deliciousness, and they’ll be inviting their
friends over for a feast.”

I wanted to tell her I was plenty lush when I’d

run from this place. The alligators were the least of
her worries. I bit it back, keeping all those old
insecurities buried where they belonged.

“You don’t think I’m worth the risk?” I asked

instead.

She sniffled, and I swore I could see her grin.

“Yeah, Ryn, you’re totally worth it.”

I cleared the emotion from my throat,

wondering how I was going to do this when the
road took another sharp curve and the speed limit

dropped. “I better go. I’m getting into town.”

“Good luck, babe. You’ve got this. I want you

to know I’m proud of you, even though I’m going
to miss the hell out of you.”

“Thank you, Mace,” I told her.
I was definitely going to need it.

Chapter 2

REX

EYES

WENT

ROUND

, and I came to an abrupt stop

in her doorway.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to wear?”

Sweeping a hand through the long pieces of my
damp hair, I gave it my all to keep the panic out of
my voice.

Honestly wasn’t sure if I wanted to bust out

laughing or drop to my knees and cry.

Such was my life.
We were already ten minutes late, and there she

was on her bedroom floor, wearing a hot pink tutu
over a bathing suit.

“Uh-huh. We gots to look so pretty for dance.

Annie said all the best dancers wear leg warmies,
and her mama bought her all the pretty colors. Like
a rainbow,” she rambled as she tugged on the black
high-top Converse she’d talked me into at the mall

last weekend.

Right over a pair of old tube socks she must

have found in one of my drawers.

The hideous kind with the two blue stripes at

the top that should have been burned years ago.

“So I gots these.” She rocked her heels on the

ground as she sat back and admired her handiwork.

She suddenly looked over at me with that smile

that melted a crater right through the stone that was
my heart. Her single tooth missing on the bottom
row and her attempt at a bun that looked like she’d
just walked out of a windstorm were about the
damned cutest things I’d ever seen.

“I’m the best dancer, right, Daddy?”
“You’re the best, prettiest dancer in the whole

world, Sweet Pea Frankie Leigh.”

I just was betting that uptight bitch, Ms. Jezlyn,

wouldn’t agree. I’d already gotten one bullshit
letter about “appropriate ballet attire,” which was
strictly a black leotard with salmon tights (what the
fuck?) without any runs in them. Apparently,
Frankie wasn’t living up to those standards.

That was what I got for picking Frankie up late

from Mom’s and then coming home and telling her
to get ready while I grabbed a quick shower. I’d
been at the work site the entire day, had been
drenched in sweat and grease and grime, and was
trying to put my best foot forward.

Problem was, I was having a hard time figuring

out how my best could ever be enough.

I pressed my palms together in some kind of

twisted prayer. Then I dropped them and blew out a
resigned breath. “All right, then. We need to get out
of here before I get you in any more trouble.”

Frankie hopped onto her feet and threw her

hands in the air. “Ready!”

I chuckled beneath my breath, grabbed her

dance bag from the pink bench right inside her
room, slung it over my shoulder, and extended my
hand. “Let’s go, Tiny Dancer.”

Giggling, she pranced over to me and let me

take her miniature hand, so small and vulnerable in
the massiveness of mine.

Following me out the door and down the hall,

she skipped along at my side.

Innocently.
Joy lit up my insides. I swore all her sweetness

held the power to blow back the thousand pounds
of blackened bitterness built up around my heart.
Like when this kid was around, it weighed nothing
at all.

The day she was born, I’d sworn an oath to

myself. I’d never allow her to be torn up by this
vicious, cruel world. Refused to let it tarnish her the
way it had me.

My entire life was protecting her from it.
I snagged my keys from the entryway table

when I heard the sound of a door slamming

somewhere outside. Frowning, I leaned back so I
could get a glimpse out the window and across the
street.

An older white Jeep Grand Cherokee was

parked in the driveway of Mrs. Dayne’s old house.

Guessed they had to finally be putting the place

up for sale. Mrs. Dayne had lived there forever,
long before we’d moved in across the street from
her five years ago, but the place had been sitting
empty for the last two months.

A fist tightened in my gut, grief I really

shouldn’t be allowing myself to feel. She’d just
been so good to Frankie that it’d been impossible to
keep her shut out. Hell, she’d barged right into our
lives like she was supposed to be there, constantly
bringing over dinner and those delicious pies from
the diner-style restaurant she’d owned downtown.

Frankie rushed out the front door and onto the

deck at the side of our house.

It was the way all the homes were situated in

our neighborhood. The houses were elevated from
the ground with the main doors located on the side
rather than out front. Each had an open deck that
extended out from the side of the house, giving a
view of the street and neighbors’ houses. The porch
steps angled that direction and led down to the
driveways that came up to the far side of the
houses.

It probably would have looked strange if not for

the big, leafy trees that outlined each of the lots.

They made everything feel cozy and secluded.
Just the way I liked it.
It was one of the main reasons I’d insisted on

this place when I’d been looking for a fixer-upper
to renovate.

Frankie released my hand and pointed across

the street. “Hey, Daddy, look it. Someone’s at Mrs.
Dayne’s house!”

Stepping out behind her, I closed the door

before I attempted to tame a few pieces of hair
that’d fallen from her bun and were now flying
around her face in the hot breeze. I dropped a kiss
to her forehead. “It’s probably a realtor putting it
up for sale, Frankie Leigh. Remember how we
talked about that?”

With her head tipped back, she peered at me

with confused but hopeful brown eyes. “She wents
to heaven?”

“Yeah,” I murmured softly.
The screen door at the side of Mrs. Dayne’s

house slammed, and I jerked my head up to find a
woman crossing the small deck and jogging down
the steps back toward the SUV.

Goddamn.
Maybe I was just caught off guard.
But just looking at her knocked the air from my

lungs.

Let’s just say I was unprepared for a woman

that looked like that. Guess I’d been expecting
someone dressed up. Older. And there was this girl,
disheveled in a sexy, careless way. A massive
mound of hair that was wilder than Frankie’s was
piled haphazardly on her head, wavy pieces falling
out all around her. She wore a super tight white
tank that disappeared beneath high-waisted jeans.

Those jeans should have made her look frumpy

and unkempt, but instead, the whole package sent a
skitter of lust racing through my veins and prodding
at my dick.

She was the kind of woman who could make a

grown man stumble on his feet.

Stunning.
Gorgeous.
Too sexy for her own damned good.
Or maybe mine.
I could call it a complication of abstaining for

too long, but I was sure no woman had ever incited
a reaction like this in me with just a glance.

She raked her arm over her sweat-drenched

forehead as she headed straight for the cargo area
of the SUV, which was crammed full of moving
boxes. I wouldn’t mind all that much if she were
hauling stuff out of that house directly across the
street, but it sure as shit looked like she was moving
her things in.

Tell me this girl is not moving in next door.
I clenched my jaw and grabbed Frankie’s hand,

needing to get the hell out of there.

“Come on, Frankie Leigh, we’ve got to get a

move on. You’re already late.”

But Frankie was already moving, bouncing

down the stairs and along the walkway, waving her
free hand in the air. The kid just adding to the stark
sunshine that burned bright in the waning day. “Hi,
hi, hi! I’m Frankie. Whose are you?” she shouted
across the street.

Startled, the women’s gaze darted our direction,

and the determination in her step slowed when she
caught sight of my daughter.

An amused smile grew on the rosy bud of her

mouth when her gaze swept the ridiculous outfit
Frankie was wearing. She seemed to hesitate for a
second, eyes glancing around her like she was
looking for something before she changed direction,
heading our way. “Hey there, Frankie, I’m Corinne
Dayne, but everyone calls me Rynna.”

Rynna Dayne.
What the ever-lovin’ hell?
Could damn near feel the bewildered

excitement roll through my daughter while I stood
there cursing the world that just fucking loved to
curse me. “Your name’s C’Rinne, too? That’s Mrs.
Dayne’s name. She worked at the restaurant called
Pepper’s Pies and cooked all the pies, and my
daddy ate them all, all, all the way gone. Sometimes
we wents to go eat there, but mostly we ate at my

house right here, but now she wents to heaven.”

A bolt of sadness streaked through her

expression, and fuck, if it didn’t hit me, too. Still,
the smile she wore only grew. “She made the best
pies in the whole world, didn’t she?”

Frankie’s excitement only amplified. “Yes! You

know Mrs. Dayne, too?”

She started to cross the narrow street, all

chestnut hair and java eyes and a body that was
built for temptation.

Awareness ridged my spine like a steely stake

of lightning, and I stepped back, my jaw tightening
at the same time I protectively took hold of my
daughter’s hand.

That was all that women were.
Temptation.
Trouble.
Forbidden fucking fruit.
Because all they did was condemn you in the

end. So, I stayed away. Kept my distance. If I
didn’t step into the fire, then I wouldn’t get burned.

Kneeling in front of my daughter, she stuck out

her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Frankie. It
sounds like you were a good friend of my
grandma’s.”

So yeah.
I’d already figured it out.
It didn’t stop me from flinching.
Frankie had stars in her eyes as she

enthusiastically shook her hand. She might as well
have been meeting Taylor Swift. “She told me I was
her favorite, favorite friend, and sometimes she
even let me go to her house and make some pies.”

“Is that so?” Rynna said with a tease in her

voice.

“Yep.”
Rynna leaned in, and I caught a whiff of

something sweet. “Want to know a secret?” she
whispered.

Frankie bounced on her toes. “Oh, yes, yes

please, I love secrets. I won’t tell nobody.”

Soft laughter floated out from Rynna’s mouth, a

mouth that was getting harder and harder not to
stare at, all plush and pink and perfectly pouty.
“Well, this is a secret I hope you tell everyone,
because guess what? I have some of the recipes for
those pies.”

Frankie’s mouth dropped open, and damn it if

my stomach didn’t fucking growl.

“You gonna make me some?” she gushed.
“Definitely,” Rynna said, taking that moment to

look at me with the threat of a smile on her pretty
face, the angle of her jaw sharp while everything
else about her was soft.

That sweet scent was back. Billowing in the

breeze. This warmth surrounding her. Hot cherry
pie.

My teeth ground together, and the smile slid

from her face when she saw what must have been
my irritated expression, and I swore I heard the
slight catch of her breath when she met my glare.
Could see a slight quiver in her throat when she
straightened and took a step back.

Still, she stood her ground.
There was something unwavering about her.

Like she had something to prove. To herself or me,
I wasn’t sure.

“Hi. I’m Rynna Dayne. Was named after my

grandmother,” she managed, though the words
were rough as she stuck her hand out toward me
like she’d done to my daughter.

I just stood there staring at it like it held the

venom of a viper bite. Finally, I lifted my chin at
her and gathered all the pleasantness I could
summon. It wasn’t much. “Rex Gunner. I’m sorry
about your grandmother. And we’re late . . . so if
you could excuse us.”

I gave Frankie a gentle tug of her hand. “Come

on, Frankie Leigh. We’ve got to get you to dance.”

Frankie trotted along at my side, looking back

over her shoulder with what I knew had to be one
of those adorable grins.

“What a jerk,” I heard Rynna mumble behind

my back when I turned and led my daughter to the
passenger side of my truck.

Bitterness burned.
Yeah.

I was a jerk.
An asshole.
Whatever.
Better to burn bridges before anyone had a

chance to cross them.

Shaking it off, I hoisted Frankie into the high

cabin, making her squeal and pretend like she was
flying. I strapped her in her car seat and jogged
around to the front. I hopped into the driver’s seat,
wondering if it were possible for the roar of the
engine to cover the hurt that sagged Rynna’s
shoulders as I took to the street.

Wondering why I felt like a complete piece of

shit when I caught a glimpse of her in the rearview
mirror. She just stood there in the twilight like she
was caught in a dream.

Watching us go with disappointment on her

face.

Befriending a sweet old lady was one thing.
Allowing a girl like Rynna Dayne into our lives

—a girl that made my body react the way it did?
Now that was pure stupidity.

Chapter 3

RYNNA

DOING

THIS

Anxiety convulsed through my nerves as I

waited for my computer to fire up. The truth was, I
couldn’t not know. I connected to my hotspot and
logged on to Facebook. It felt like forever while I
sat there, the screen churning, lighting up like a
window to the past. I could almost feel it stretching
its fingers out to touch me. To tease me with the
control it’d held over me for so long.

For too long.
Fingers trembling, I managed to type the name

into the search bar. A task I’d attempted at least
twenty times before I’d set out on my journey back
home. I had never found the courage to press enter.

Today, I did.
She was the third listing. A grainy picture.

Almost indistinguishable. But I knew it was her.

Missouri.
She lived in Missouri.
I slammed the lid down.
That was all I needed to know.
As long as she wasn’t here? I could totally

manage staying in this town.

“Tell me you’re miserable without me.”

Laughing quietly, I flitted around the kitchen on

my bare feet. My cell was pressed between my ear
and shoulder as I slowly unpacked the few things
I’d brought. I hadn’t needed much since my
grandmother had left everything she owned to me.

“Completely miserable,” I told Macy, letting the

tease wind into my tone as I hiked onto my toes to
set my favorite Christmas mug on a high cupboard
shelf.

“Huh. That’s weird. I haven’t even noticed

you’re gone,” she deadpanned.

“Says the girl who’s called me like ten times

today,” I ribbed.

She giggled. “Okay, okay, I might have kind of

noticed.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s just
that I think the apartment is haunted.”

“The apartment is haunted? And this happened

sometime in the last three days?” Skepticism rolled
from my tongue.

“You know how these things work. Ghost girl

has been stalking me, and the second she felt your
absence, she slid right in to take your place.”

“You know you’re absolutely ridiculous, right?”
“Which is precisely why you love me.”
Affection pulsed. How was I ever going to live

without seeing her every day?

“Honestly, though, Ryn. How are you doing

there by yourself? It must be weird to be alone in
that old house. God knows it’s weird around here
without you.”

I paused to look around at my dated

surroundings—the floors linoleum, the cupboards
hailing from the early eighties, the beige Formica
countertops dingy and faded to a dreary yellow.
The décor was mainly all the trinkets my
grandmother had collected over the years, and the
same two floral placemats I remembered from my
childhood were still on the small round table.

It was as if she’d been waiting for me to return

all this time. Next to nothing had changed since I
left eleven years ago.

The house needed a full renovation. That was

when, or if, I ever had the money to do it. Honestly,
I still didn’t know how I was going to manage to
hold on to all these frayed threads, if I could come
back here and take over where my grandmother
had left off. If I had what it would take to breathe
life back into everything she had built.

But when I inhaled? I could almost smell the

lingering memory of sugar browning in the oven.
When I focused hard enough, I could almost taste
the tart cherries and sweet crust melting on my
tongue. When I listened intently enough, I could
almost hear the steadfast belief in her voice echoing
from the walls.

“Honestly?”
“Yeah,” she said.
An old warmth surrounded me, all mixed up

with the reservations and fear that had kept me
away for so many years. “It feels like home. Like I
never left. Like I could walk through the door and
my grandmother would be standing right in this
kitchen, pulling a pot pie from the oven for dinner.”
I swallowed over the lump that grew heavy at the
base of my throat, the loss that echoed back her
presence. “I just wish I would have come back
earlier. Before it was too late.”

My heart clutched at the memory of the phone

call I’d received two months before. A social
worker had been on the other end of the line telling
me my grandmother had suffered a massive heart
attack while behind the wheel of her car, that
though the responders had tried, there had been
nothing they could do. She was pronounced dead
upon arrival at the hospital.

Macy’s voice dipped in sincerity. “You can’t

blame yourself, Ryn. Even if she didn’t know the
reason you left, I think she at least understood

why.”

“Then why does it feel like such a pathetic

excuse now?”

“Maybe I was never lucky enough to meet your

grandma in person, but in all the time we lived
together, I don’t remember a day that passed
without you talking to her. So maybe the
circumstances sucked. But I promise you that she
knew how much you loved her. And you want to
know why it feels pathetic now? Because you’ve
moved beyond it. Above it. You’re not even close
to being that timid, insecure girl who answered my
ad for a roommate eleven years ago. You’ve grown,
changed. Your grandma got it. That was one smart
woman.”

I exhaled slowly. “I know. I just . . . I wish I

would have come back before it was too late.”

Wished she had let me know she was in trouble.

I wished we had more time.

But I guessed us Dayne women were stubborn

that way.

“I’m betting your grandma didn’t see it that

way, which is the very reason you’re back there
now.”

I gulped around the emotion, voice hushed.

“Thanks, Mace. I needed to hear that.”

She tsked softly. “Of course you did. This is

why you have me.”

From the other end of the line, I heard rustling,

could feel her mood changing course as she settled
back in the plush couch in the den. I could almost
see the glass of red wine in her hand. “So, how is it
being back in Gingham Lakes so far? Have you run
into anyone you know?”

Her voice turned wry. “Tell me you found out

bitch-face took a deep dive into the lake and never
came back up for air. Or maybe she took a sharp
curve driving a little too fast? Which would you
prefer?”

A low chuckle rumbled free. “You’re horrible,

Mace.”

“Psh. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined it a

thousand times.”

“Okay, okay, maybe I imagined her demise a

time or two.”

Like every time I’d closed my eyes for two

years after it happened. Wondering what it might
have been like if I could have turned the tables on
her and wishing all the same she could just take it
back.

What had I ever done to warrant that level of

cruelty? Could she possibly have known just how
badly what she’d done had hurt?

Old memories twisted my stomach into knots.

Traces of that evil, depraved laughter touched my
ears, visions of her standing there like it’d meant
nothing at all while she’d destroyed my entire
world. It was as if crushing me had been nothing

but entertainment.

“And no. I looked her up. She moved to

Missouri.”

“You looked her up?” Surprise coated Macy’s

tone.

“I just . . . had to.”
Silence filled the space between us. “I get it,”

she finally said.

Bending down, I pulled my coffee pot from the

box, puffing out a breath as I did. “To answer your
question, no, I haven’t seen anyone I know. My
Gramma was right, the city has really grown since I
left. It’s not filled with the familiar faces like it used
to be. I stopped by the grocery store this afternoon
and didn’t recognize a soul.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I sighed. “I don’t know . . . both, I guess. I used

to love that I knew everyone. That I’d go into the
restaurant and knew at least half the people there.
It made it feel safe. But after everything? The
rumors?” My lips pursed. “It’s nice to be
somewhere I love and have a clean slate. It feels
like a second chance.”

I just prayed it remained that way.
“Well, if there aren’t any familiar faces, tell me

there are at least some panty-melting ones you’ve
run across. You know, some yummy to my tummy
hotties hanging around, waiting to steal your heart?
Knowing you’re getting some will at least ease

some of my worry for you.”

A scoff scraped my throat. Leave it to Macy.

“Oh, there’s a hottie, all right, but he definitely isn’t
hanging around waiting to steal my heart.”

It was that moment when I heard the low

rumble of a powerful engine approaching in the
distance.

Of course.
Gramma had always told me all you needed

was to speak of the devil and he’d appear.

There’d been something about our encounter

this morning that had left me unsettled. Something
about that gorgeous stranger that had left me
restless and curious.

Interest piqued.
The man was a paradox.
Hard and brittle and cold.
Yet so incredibly gentle with the little girl,

who’d clung to his hand as if he were the center of
her world.

There seemed to be nothing I could do but edge

toward the window, stealing to the side to remain
out of sight.

I pulled back the edge of the curtain and

peeked out.

Headlights cut into the night, and my stupid

heart kicked an erratic beat. That intrigue increased
my pulse to a thunder. I was riddled with that same
fierce attraction I’d felt when I’d looked up earlier

today to find him towering over me, the way my
stomach had twisted and the nervousness that had
followed me back to Gingham Lakes took a new
form.

The headlights grew brighter, illuminating the

space between our houses before the monstrous
truck slowed and turned into the driveway across
the street.

“Oh, oh, oh, tell me all about it. Someone

sounds pouty . . . and turned on.”

“You know how my luck goes when it comes to

men.” The scales were always tipped to bad. “You
shouldn’t be surprised that my neighbor is
like . . . gorgeous.”

Macy squealed. “How gorgeous?”
I watched as Rex hopped out of his truck and

went straight for the backseat.

All six feet three inches of mouthwatering

deliciousness lit up by the moonlight.

“Like Greek God with a sledgehammer

gorgeous.”

I could hear her kicking her feet. “And how is

this a bad thing?”

“I was pretty sure he would have preferred to

drag me to the lake and drown me rather than
tolerate my living across the street from them.”

“Them?”
“I met his daughter, too. At least she was super

excited to meet me.”

I suppressed laughter as I thought of her rushing

out of their house. The little girl had been a perfect
kind of disaster in that hot pink tutu and those
atrocious socks she had to have stolen from her
dad.

She was a bluster of energy and innocence.
It was almost worry that entered Macy’s playful

tone. “Oh God, tell me you’re not actually crushing
on the married guy next door? That’s just poor
form, Ryn.”

Through the milky, opalescent night, I watched

as he pulled a sleeping Frankie from the backseat
and shifted her so her head rested high up on his
shoulder. He ran a hand over the back of her head
and set a kiss to her temple.

The image was so at odds with the hostility he’d

met me with earlier.

That intrigued attraction flared, my mouth dry

as I watched him start up his walkway.

Maybe what struck me most was there was

something sad about him, too. Something helpless
and scared beneath all the harsh, hard dominance
he wore so well. Something bitter and broken.

I found myself whispering when I came to the

realization. “I’m thinking there’s no wife.”

“No wife . . . so . . . he’s like . . . a single dad?”
“Maybe,” I uttered so quietly as I peered

through the night, drinking in the way his long legs
took the steps, and then the way he angled through

his front door with his sleeping little dancer girl. “I
think so. I’m not sure.”

Why did I want to know so desperately?
“Why are you whispering?” Macy whispered

back.

I bit down on my bottom lip while guilty silence

spun around the room.

Macy busted up laughing. “Oh my God, you are

spying on him right now, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” I told her, quick to let the curtain

drop. I got straight back to work unpacking.

“Someone has a crush,” she sing-songed.
“Stop it.”
I was so not spying, and I so didn’t have a

crush.

I’d just met them, and the worst thing I could

do was get mixed up with the angry guy across the
street with his sweet, adorable little girl, who was a
big fan of my grandmother. Apparently, she had
really good taste.

But her dad? He obviously had some ginormous

chip on his shoulder, and I had enough to worry
about without giving thought to the flecks of
sadness scored in the depths of his eyes.

Eyes the color of sage. Rimmed in the darkest

gray.

No, I wasn’t thinking about those soft, full lips

barely hidden by the sexy scruff on his strong jaw.
And I definitely hadn’t noticed his big hands or the

strength in his deeply tanned, muscled arms.

Nope.
Not at all.
A guy like that had heartache written all over

him.

And I’d had enough of that to last me a lifetime.

The sound of a whisk clanging against metal echoed
through the kitchen. With the bowl tucked under
one arm, I cut butter into the flour in the other,
giving myself over to the sense of deep peace that
had taken me over.

The late night was like a warm blanket wrapped

around the old house, holding me safe and secure,
the vast silence a comfort as I slowly swayed in the
kitchen.

I had the crumpled letter smoothed out on the

counter beside me where I worked. Every so often,
I would peek over at it, relishing in her presence. I
had to have read it close to a million times since
it’d slipped out with the file the attorney had given
me two months ago. But I kept going back to it,
wondering, why now?

Why hadn’t she asked this of me before?

When you left, you told me I was the only one you
could trust. Your broken heart had mine breaking

that night. Isn’t it funny how things come around?
Because no matter how many years have passed, in
the end, you are the only one I trust with this.

I know right now you’re scared and questioning my
intentions. But I’m asking you to trust me one last
time. I made a life within those walls, gave it my
whole heart. Maybe you never realized it, but all
along, I was working so one day, I could give it to
you. Now, it’s yours. Give it life, Corinne Paisley.
I’ll be with you every step of the way.

My chest tightened as a wave of grief and love
slammed into me.

I could feel the weight of her spirit dance

around me. Soft, soft encouragement. The same as
she’d always given me.

Belief. It was right there. Shining with all the

questions that still remained.

“I am scared, Gramma. I’m not sure how I can

do this without you. But I promise you that I’m
going to try. I’m going to do whatever it takes to
make you proud.”

I jumped when the oven dinged, letting me

know the temperature had reached three hundred
and seventy-five degrees.

Maybe I really was letting this old house get to

me.

I set the bowl aside and dug into the paper sack

to find the almond extract.

Almond extract I was certain I’d purchased this

afternoon at the store.

Almond extract that wasn’t there.
With a frown, I sank back onto my heels.

Frustration leaked into my veins.

Damn it.
My first pie, and I was already failing. It was

one of those ingredients I could probably get away
with not using, but it just wouldn’t be the same.
Looking around, my attention landed on the pantry.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Gramma,” I

mumbled, opening the pantry door and rummaging
through the few items that hadn’t already been
discarded.

“Aha.” It was a cry of victory as I held the

bottle of almond extract in the air.

Victory that was short-lived. It’d expired three

years ago.

“Damn it,” I muttered again. I tossed it into the

garbage bin right before my eye caught on a white
envelope tucked on a shelf at the side of the pantry
wall. Like a forgotten partner to all the expired
spices and extracts. A token of the past.

Apprehension swelled, anxious and uneasy, and

I slowly moved forward.

It felt as if it were some kind of secret.
As if I were on some kind of forbidden mission.
Silly, I knew, but my fingers trembled when I

reached in and tugged it free, the paper tacked to
something sticky on the pantry wall.

That anxiousness thickened like molasses, my

throat full and bobbing, my stomach twisted in a
vice.

My name was written across the front, the

familiar handwriting scratchy from an unsteady
hand.

“Oh God.” Grief came swooping back in, but I

smiled through the tears that were suddenly
clouding my eyes as I ripped into the letter.

There was so much comfort in knowing she felt

confident that one day I would find what she’d left
for me.

I tugged it out and quickly scanned the card.

All moments matter. We just rarely know how
important they are until the chance to act on them
has already passed.

My spirit flooded with love, and I clung tight to the
reminder of this amazing woman who’d always

viewed the world as if it were right on the cusp of
something magical. The tough times nothing but a
stepping-stone to propel us to where we were
supposed to be.

I took a fumbling step back when I sensed the

change outside my kitchen window. A light had
flickered on across the street. Drawn, I inched
across the creaking floor, again keeping myself
hidden as I crept toward the window. I pulled back
the edge of the lacy drape and peered that
direction, not sure if I felt guilty for doing it or if it
was somehow my duty.

Because this time there was no question I was

spying.

Unable to look away.
Somehow knowing I didn’t want to.
The bulk of him took up the entirety of his

kitchen window, his hair, which was a dark, golden
blond and a little long on top, was in complete
disarray and stuck up in all directions. As if he’d
spent the night tossing in bed, waging a war I didn’t
understand. I couldn’t make out his expression with
the way he had his head dropped between his
shoulders, his hands most likely propped on the
counter to hold himself up. But that didn’t mean I
couldn’t clearly see him fighting with whatever
demons plagued him.

“Shit,” I whispered, clutching the letter in my

hand, waging my own war. The battles I’d once

fought in this town had been lost. The memories of
them stalled me with trepidation, the strength I’d
found through the years away coming against them
and instilling me with courage.

I glanced at the letter again.
And I chose to take a chance.
Before I could think better of it, I moved

through the arch and out into the dated living room.
I slipped on my sandals I’d left by the door.

Then I let myself out into the muggy, Alabama

night, the air heady with wafts of honeysuckle and
fresh-cut grass.

Moon, huge and high, cast the slumbering

houses and trees in a silvery glow, and the steady
trill of cicadas danced all around.

It felt like stepping straight back into my

childhood. The memories of the nights I’d spent on
the porch with my grandmother staring up at the
stars seemed so close it felt as if I only had to reach
out to go back to that time.

Inhaling the vestiges, I kept my footsteps as

light as possible. Even still, they crunched against
the gravel driveway, and I sucked in an emboldened
breath when I stole through the night and across the
street, silently making my way up his walkway.

Carefully, I climbed his steps, hand on the

railing as if it offered moral support, and crossed his
freshly stained deck. I stopped at his door, my heart
the thunder that incited a storm within my chest.

What was I doing?
This was insane.
This guy hated me for no apparent reason at all.
Still, I found myself lifting my hand, my fist

quietly knocking at his door.

I was shaking all over by the time the latch

turned and the door flew open, and I was again met
with the same unwarranted fury from earlier.
Although this time it was harder.

All of it.
His scowl and his glare and every gloriously

defined ridge of his body.

Oh. My. God.
There was nothing I could do to keep my eyes

from dropping to explore the wide expanse of
exposed flesh. His shirt was missing, and he was
wearing nothing but boxer briefs.

I gulped. That foolish attraction drenched me

through, wet and hot and sticky. Flaming free and
leaving me weak in the knees.

My gaze latched on the tattoo that ran the

entirety of his left upper arm. It was a landscape of
a jagged cliff with a waterfall pouring over the side.
The splashes rising up from the seething pool of
water were bright, colorful feathers that floated and
twisted as if blown by the breeze.

Sorrow and hope.
They were so clearly impressed into the

depiction.

“What are you doing here?”
The severity in his voice cut through the night,

impaling my stupor, jerking my attention up to his
face.

Of course, it had to be equally as striking as the

rest of him.

Powerful and dominant.
I shook as I took a fumbled step back.
Oh, wow, was this stupid. So damned stupid.
Still, I lifted my chin. “I was just . . .” I fumbled

for an excuse to be standing at his door at one in
the morning. “Wondering if you had any almond
extract?”

His head cocked, and if it were possible, his

eyes narrowed even more. “Do I look like I have
almond extract?”

“Ummm . . .” I stammered.
Great.
I was a blubbering fool.
This man set me totally off balance. He was so

different from the men I was used to back in San
Francisco.

Rougher.
Unpolished and raw.
More dangerously beautiful than any man had

the right to be.

Maybe it was because he reminded me a tiny

bit of Aaron. The asshole back in high school
who’d had a hand in the breaking of my heart.

But this was more.
Different.
Everything about Rex Gunner was unique.
Blinding in his darkness.
Warm in his coldness.
“I just—” I gestured back to my house across

the street. “I was making my gramma’s cherry pie
and was missing almond extract when I saw a light
on over here. I thought I would take a chance.”

All moments matter. We just rarely know how

important they are until the chance to act on them
has already passed.

Was this one of those moments that mattered?
And why did I feel like I had to take this

chance?

Chapter 4

REX

UST

SIEGED

my body as I stared at her standing in

the moonlight like some kind of vision.

Like some kind of wicked enchantress with the

face of an angel.

Baking my fucking favorite pie, nonetheless.
Her scent was all around me. Cherries and

sugar.

My mouth watered, and I clenched my fists in

an effort to keep myself from reaching out and
taking a taste for myself.

Maybe I was still back in bed and this was just a

new element of the nightmares that haunted me
night after night.

If this were a dream, I’d be inviting her in and

sinking into that tight body. Fucking her hard and
wild. Just the way I liked it. That would be right
before she grew fangs and ripped me apart. Hell,

with the way she was looking at me, it was clear
she was already poised to tear me to shreds.

“Some chances aren’t worth taking,” I said,

voice rough with warning. She needed to know she
was crossing into territory where she wasn’t
welcome. Banging on my door in the middle of the
night was completely off-limits. How could this girl
possibly think this was okay?

I set my forearm high on the jamb, knowing

every inch of me was bristling with the challenge.

All except for my dick. Apparently, that was the

only part of me that didn’t seem pissed off at the
intrusion.

Her strong chin lifted in her own challenge.

“No? Haven’t you ever heard you never know if
you don’t try?”

“And how many doors have gotten slammed in

your face because of that philosophy?”

“More than I could count. And why do I get the

feeling you’re about to add another to that
number?”

A disbelieving chuckle rumbled in my chest.

This girl was all kinds of grit and determination.
“I’m easy to read, I guess.”

A tiny snort huffed from her nose. “Hardly.”
She angled her head, and those warm eyes

turned almost pleading. “Listen, I’m going to be
living right across the street . . .”

Just the thought of it left me antsy and agitated.

Her voice softened. “I don’t know anyone

around here anymore, and it’d be nice to have a
friend. I thought maybe you and Frankie could use
one, too.”

Laughter ripped up my throat.
Cruel and low.
“Sorry, but I have all the friends I need, and I’d

appreciate it if you stayed away from my daughter.
She doesn’t need anyone else making her promises
they have no intention of keeping.”

Before I could do something stupid, I slammed

the door shut in her face. Exactly the way she’d
been expecting me to do. I leaned my back against
the wood, trying to catch my breath, to slow the
raging in my spirit, that part of me that hated being
such an asshole.

All the while trying to remind myself why it was

necessary.

There was something about her that set me on

edge. Left me feeling off-balance.

Self-control was not normally something I

lacked, and fuck, it wasn’t like she was out there
offering herself up like a warm slice of pie.

But just looking at her had me itching for a

taste.

I could feel her on the other side, her presence

that swept the air unsettled and thick. Like I’d
caused her physical pain with the rejection and she
was projecting it right back to me.

Maybe she really was just trying to be nice.
Maybe she didn’t have ulterior motives.
But that was a chance I just couldn’t take.

Fear tumbled through his veins and clanged in the
hollow of his chest. Frantic, he stumbled through
the brushy undergrowth, the world buried by
soaring trees. Branches lashed at the exposed skin
of his arms and thorns latched onto the fabric of his
shirt in an attempt to hold him back.

It propelled him harder.
Faster.
He screamed her name. “Sydney.”
Sydney. Sydney. Sydney.
The howl of wind answered back.
Sydney.

I shot upright, chest heaving as I struggled to catch
my breath. To orient myself to the movement that
jostled me awake and pulled me from the dream.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Wakey, wakey, wakey.

I made you breakfast.”

Frankie was grinning at me as she jumped on

my bed. Brown hair wild and free, just as wild and
free as the way she looked at the world. At the way
she loved. Wholly and without reservation.

I scrubbed both palms over my face, dropped

them just as fast. It was not all that hard to return
her grin.

Her expression alone was enough to chase

away the exhaustion that constantly weighed me
down. The few hours of sleep I managed were
restless. Plagued with the curse that darkened my
life.

I swallowed back the fear. The terror that one

day it might steal her from me, too.

“You made me breakfast?” I asked, voice

groggy, my touch tender as I brushed her too-long
bangs back from her innocent face. “That’s awful
nice of you, thinking of your daddy first thing in the
morning.”

She giggled. “Of course I thinks about you,

Daddy. And I made a whole big bowl, ’cause
Grammy says you could eat a whole cow.”

“Oh, she did, huh?”
She nodded emphatically, her eyes going wide

when I hopped up and tossed her over my shoulder.
Frankie roared with laughter, the kid dressed in
shorts and a tee with that same damned hot pink
tutu around her waist.

So fuckin’ cute.
“That Grammy is going to be in big, big trouble

when I see her today,” I teased my daughter, who
was bouncing on my shoulder as I started running
with her down the hall.

She squealed, kicking her feet and holding on to

me for dear life. “Oh, no, don’t tell Grammy! It’s
our secret.”

“I thought you said you were good at keeping

secrets?”

Damn it.
The last thing I needed to do was bring up the

conversation she’d had with Rynna yesterday. Just
the mention of that woman had fantasies slamming
me from all sides. Her face and her hair and that
body.

Sweet, mouthwatering sugar.
I’d thought maybe the morning would have

scraped the idea of her from my consciousness.

No such luck.
I shoved off the thoughts, refusing to give them

voice. That was right when I came to an abrupt stop
when I entered the kitchen I’d just finished
remodeling.

Frankie scrambled upright, pushing those unruly

locks from her face with both hands, a hopeful
smile plastered on her face. “I mights have spilled a
little milk, Daddy. Is that okay? I’m gonna clean it
all gone, but I didn’t want your cereal to get all
gross and swoggy. Bleh.”

Her nose scrunched, and her lips turned down

as if she’d tasted something sour.

I frowned when I saw a “little” milk was

actually the entire gallon minus what she’d
managed to pour into the cereal bowl. A pool of

white swam between the small table set for two and
the refrigerator against the far wall, the emptied
plastic container floating in the middle of it.

Her shoulders went to her ears, her voice

quieting. “Is you mad?”

Hugging her close, I pecked a kiss to her

chubby cheek. “Of course, I’m not mad. We’re just
gonna have to get you to the gym with me so we
can start building up these muscles.” I lightly
squeezed her tiny bicep. “How’s that sound? You
ready to start pumping some iron? Before you
know it, you’ll be as strong as The Hulk.”

She giggled like it was the funniest thing she’d

ever heard. “The Incwedible Hulk? You’re crazy,
Daddy. I’m gonna be Wonder Woman. Don’t you
know I’m a girl?”

She threw both her arms in the air before she

started shimmying down my body, getting free of
my hold, and heading straight for the drawer where
we kept the dishtowels. She climbed up the step
stool so she could reach it, that smile lighting up the
whole room when she looked over at me. “Right,
Daddy? Can I be the best dancer in the whole
world and Wonder Woman?”

I crossed the kitchen to help her clean up the

mess. “Yeah, Tiny Dancer, you can be whatever
you want to be.”

I’d make sure of it.
Because she was the single wonder of my life.

I’d do whatever it took to keep her that way.

Chapter 5

RYNNA

UNLIGHT

POURED

in through the long row of dark

tinted windows that overlooked the bustling street.
It struck the murky space like a blazing orb of fire
against the quiet darkness that held fast to the
silenced space, the light still muted in the far
reaches of the restaurant.

It left the space filled with a dim hue of

warmth, the atmosphere an intricate dance of peace
and regret and the remnants of my lingering fear.

Lovingly, I dragged my fingertips through the

layer of dust that had gathered on the bar, exposing
the shiny white counter hiding underneath.

Buried, but not forgotten.
Yearning pulsed through my being, my spirit full

and my heart heavy, that lump at the base of my
throat prominent as I slowly wandered through the
old diner-style restaurant that for so long had been

the center of my life.

How many days had I spent at this counter? A

little girl coloring and painting who turned into a
teenager studying for the SAT?

How many mornings had I been there before

dawn, standing on the step stool so I could see over
the counter back in the kitchen? I’d watch in awe
as my grandmother would mix the ingredients,
helping her pour them into the bowl, my arm
straining as I’d followed her instructions and
pressed the dough into pie crusts. The whole time I
would quietly listen to her chatting about life, the
woman so easily relating everything to the pies she
made.

How much life had buzzed in the bustling diner,

the families that had gathered in the booths and the
old men who’d sat at the bar with their tall tales to
tell?

That life had been silenced, but it wasn’t gone. I

could feel it. Bated, but simmering. Trembling all
around where it was restrained, pressing and vying
to be freed.

Waiting for someone to believe in it again.
For someone to breathe that life back into its

walls.

And Gramma had somehow put her faith in me

that I would be the one to do it.

Even after I’d run like a coward.
I just prayed I could live up to her belief.

I jumped when the old bell jingled above the

door and someone called, “Knock, knock.”

Heart leaping to my throat, I spun around. I did

my best to beat down the jolt of fear that had taken
hold. My eyes narrowed as I tried to make out the
two figures in the doorway.

They stepped forward, coming into view in the

dimmed light of the diner.

Two women.
Their faces unfamiliar, but both had to be

around my age, maybe twenty-eight or thirty. One
was dressed in something like I would have worn to
the office back in San Francisco. A perfectly fitted
pencil skirt, blouse, and heels, her black hair done
up in an intricate twist. The other was more
casually dressed in trendy jeans and a flowy tee,
her hair cropped and messy.

Dusting off my hands on my jeans, I walked

their direction. “Can I help you?”

“You must be Corrine Dayne’s granddaughter.”
I gave a slight nod.
“We heard you were coming into town,” she

said. “I hope we’re not intruding, but we wanted to
introduce ourselves. I’m Lillith Redd.” The woman
in heels stepped forward with a welcoming smile
and pushed her hand out in front of her.

I rounded the corner and shook her hand. “It’s

nice to meet you, Lillith. I’m Rynna.”

The other woman laughed. “Ah, forget that

‘Lillith’ nonsense.” She hooked her thumb in her
friend’s direction. “This one right here goes by Lily
Pad. Don’t fall for that suit-wearing, straightlaced
attorney vibe she’s rockin’. She’s actually kind of a
wild child when you get to know her. And we
finally get to meet the Rynna Dayne, not to be
confused with Grandma Corinne. I pretty much feel
like we’re already best friends since your grandma
never stopped talking about you. I’m Nikki
Walters.”

There was a kind, playful confidence about her,

no hesitation when she reached out to take my
hand.

Confidence.
Right then, I scrambled within myself to find it.

To remember who I’d become in the years I’d been
away. The strength and boldness I’d found. It was
crazy how coming back to this town incited the
instinct to cower and hide. “It’s really nice to meet
you, Nikki.”

I glanced between the two of them. “So, you

two knew my grandmother?”

It actually felt nice to find someone other than

Frankie and her dad who remembered my
grandmother. The fact I was there by myself and
facing this alone was beginning to set in. That
loneliness growing bigger with each second that
passed.

It didn’t help Rex Gunner had quite literally

slammed a door in my face last night.

Standing on his porch like a fool as I’d offered

myself up, only to have him so callously reject me,
had stung. I wanted to hate him. To think him
nothing but a jerk. But I couldn’t.

Maybe it was the way my grandmother had

raised me. To slow down and look deeper. Beyond
the surface and the shallow to what was concealed
underneath.

God knew I’d been judged enough as a child. I

might as well have been on trial for my appearance
alone, a thousand convictions made with each
passing, sneering glance. And I had looked deeper
at Rex. What I saw was pain and fear and a rickety
defense lurking right under the hostility that seeped
from his pores like poison. There was something so
ferociously protective behind the shield of venom
and animosity.

It filled me with the urge to break through it. To

chip it away, piece by piece. To dig deeper until I’d
discovered everything that was hiding underneath.

It didn’t help that one look at him made my

stomach shiver and shake.

I had no idea what it was about this guy, but

every time I saw him, I was struck with an
overpowering shock of attraction. The kind that
spun my head and left my knees weak with the
impulse to run my fingers over the hard planes of
his body.

Which was crazy. I didn’t know him. But I

couldn’t scrape the idea from my consciousness
that I was supposed to.

Nikki’s eyes widened as if my question had

been absurd. “Of course we knew your grandma.”
With a moan, her eyes rolled back in her head as
she tipped her face toward the ceiling. “She made
the freaking best pies. Like, to die for.”

Wistful laughter tumbled free. “Yeah, they kind

of had that effect on people, didn’t they? Now that
woman could bake.”

Her pot pies were almost as legendary as her

sweet pies.

“Tell me you’re actually reopening this place

and you have all her secret recipes,” Nikki pleaded
as if my answer might save her life.

I glanced around the diner that had been shut

down for the last two months, but with the poor
shape it was in, you’d think it had been vacant for
years. The entire place was covered in an inch of
dust, the red pleather booths cracked, some torn.
More concerning was the equipment in the kitchen
that was old and in far worse shape.

Resolve set into my bones. “I’m going to try.”
Lillith laughed a tinkling sound. “Oh, if you’re

anything like your grandma made you out to be, I
think you’ll fair just fine.”

A sad smile emerged at just the edge of my

mouth. “I think there’s a chance my grandmother

might have played me up to be something I’m not.”

“Psh.” Nikki waved a flippant hand. “As long

as you have those recipes, you’re golden.”

“Well, following her recipes is the easy part. It’s

the two hundred thousand dollar loan I need to
whip this place back into shape that I’m worried
about,” I returned, trying to make it a joke and not
let the reality of it bring me down.

All the while, I wondered why these two set me

so at ease that I felt comfortable sharing such
personal details with them.

But I did.
Concern flitted across Lillith’s face, her

expression knowing. “I heard there was a tax lien?”

I sighed, but there was satisfaction behind it.

“There was, but I was able to sell off some of my
things back in California to pay the lien, as well as
the back payments due on the house. That left me
with the keys to both.” A wry chuckle rumbled out.
“And you know, about five dollars to my name.” I
wasn’t quite that destitute, but it was close.

“Hey, a strong woman can work magic with

five dollars,” Nikki said, her grin wry.

“I just might need a little magic to come into

play if I’m going to make this happen.”

Sympathy lined Lillith’s face. “I’m so sorry

your return is under these circumstances. I hope
you know your grandmother was a huge asset to
this community and an even better friend. She is

greatly missed. If there’s anything we can do, don’t
hesitate to ask. I’m an attorney, and I’ll do
whatever I can to help you get this place reopened,
whether you need me to file anything or need legal
advice or even if you just need a friend to talk to.”

Her words were carefully phrased, but there

was a genuineness that seeped out with them.

“That’s really nice of you. Thank you. I may

need to take you up on that offer,” I told her.

She smiled. “The entire town is really excited

by the prospect of the diner reopening, especially
with the hotel going in across the street. The whole
intention of the Fairview Street Restoration Project
is to mesh the old with the new. A cohesive fusion
of the past and present, and I’d personally love to
see this diner become a part of that.”

Pride lifted in her expression when she looked

over her shoulder and out the window at the
construction taking place directly on the other side
of the street.

Nikki almost rolled her eyes. She dropped her

voice as if she were whispering conspiratorially,
though not low enough that Lillith couldn’t hear.
“You’ll have to excuse her. Her fiancé’s company
has the hotel going in, and this one right here is
kind of pathetically in love.”

Lillith swatted at her. “Shut it.” She looked at

me, grinning. “Nikki is the one who pretty much
insisted I give him a chance, and now that we’re

together, she won’t stop giving me crap about it. I
think she might be jealous.”

“Hey, don’t act like you don’t want to kiss my

feet for bringing the two of you together. That was
nothing but pure matchmaking skill. Think of all the
orgasms I earned you.”

“Nikki, what is wrong with you?” Lillith

smacked her again.

Nikki set her hand over her heart. “I’m just a

speaker of the truth. And yes, for the record, I am
very, very jealous of all the orgasms. I mean, not
that I want Broderick to be the one giving them to
me. That would be kind of gross and wrong.”

Nikki sent me a wink. “You know, considering

we’re best friends and all. I’m just envious of the
sheer number of them.”

She feigned a sad shake of her head. “It’s a

little greedy if you ask me. No one person needs
that many orgasms.”

“Oh, believe me, I need them all.” Lillith was

both fighting a grin and the redness on her cheeks
when she said it, once again looking behind her to
the construction site.

It was a large section of land cordoned off by a

chain-link fence, the frame of a massive building
just starting to take form.

I smiled at her dreamy look. It was impossible

not to like them. They seemed polar opposites; yet,
I was unable to imagine one without the other.

Lillith turned back to me almost reluctantly.

“We’d better get out of your way so you can get
back to work, but we wanted to stop in and
introduce ourselves. Honestly, if you need anything,
let us know.”

“I’m glad you did, and I definitely will.”
“Oh.” Nikki’s eyes lit up. “It’s Friday!”
My brow rose in question.
She looked at me as if it should be obvious.

“Um . . . hello? Friday Funday? That means you
totally have to come out with us tonight.”

“Really?”
Okay, maybe I was a little overenthusiastic. But

I missed Macy like crazy and the truth was, I
needed that—companionship and friendship. The
true kind. The feeling of belonging when the last
couple of days had made me feel as if I’d stepped
out of bounds, directly into a place I knew so
intimately but still so far removed.

Lillith nodded. “Oh, good idea.”
“Of course it’s a good idea,” Nikki shot back.
Lillith widened her eyes at me. “For the record,

if you say no, chances are Nikki will just come drag
you out anyway. It’s best to just concede and go
along for the ride. God knows, I do.” It was all soft,
playful affection.

“At least you know what is good for you,”

Nikki tossed at her before she grabbed me by the
wrist and shook my arm around. “Come with us.

Please! I already feel like I know you, and . . . well,
I think that you might be the missing three in our
amigo. You complete us.”

With both index fingers, she drew a heart in the

air.

“See?” Lillith asked. “Just go with the crazy.”
I grinned. I was totally going with the crazy.

Forget the fears. It’d been eleven years. Who
would even recognize me? And if they did, why
would they even still care?

A shiver trembled through me.
What if they did?
Shaking it off, I smiled. I could do this. I wanted

to do this. “That sounds like fun. Where should I
meet you and at what time?”

Nikki slung her arm around my shoulder, and I

walked with them toward the entrance. “Eight at
Olive’s. It’s on the corner of Macaber and 5

.”

“Why do I get the feeling you know this place

well?”

Lillith widened telling eyes. “That’s because

Ollie owns it. This one can’t stay away.”

Nikki sighed dramatically. “Ollie. Hottest man

in all the land. Friend-zoner extraordinaire. But one
day, I will make him see what he’s missing.”

“Ah, things are beginning to make sense now,” I

said.

Nikki feigned sadness with the grim shake of

her head. “No, Rynna, men make absolutely no

sense whatsoever. There is no sense to be found.”

I laughed. God, I really liked them.
“Isn’t that the truth?” I said.
Lillith pushed open the glass door. It was

smudged with its own layer of greasy dust, and the
white logo on the front claiming Pepper’s Pies was
barely visible. Still, I could read it as if I’d drawn it
myself. It was a shaker tipped on its side, flecks of
pepper pouring over a tumble of pot pies and sweet
pies and pizzas.

Gramma’s offerings had always been unique

and perfectly peculiar.

Just like the woman behind it.
I was washed with another wave of warmth,

and I couldn’t help but think I was supposed to
return. That no matter what the past held, this was
where I had always belonged.

We stepped out into the hot Alabama summer

day, and I blinked against the sudden glare of
sunlight and the rush of sticky humidity.

Clouds threatened in the distance, building in

the sultry heat.

Lillith hummed with a near imperceptible

bounce on her toes. Her attention locked on the
small group of men across the street, who’d
gathered in a circle just inside the chain-link fence.

Most of them were in work clothes: jeans and

long-sleeved shirts and boots. Though a single man
with his back to us wore a black suit and a yellow

hard hat.

Nikki leaned in and mock-whispered in my ear,

“Suit-guy would be the fiancé, Broderick Wolfe.
You know, the one who constantly has this one’s
panties on fire. Look at her . . . she can hardly
contain herself.”

I bit back laughter, my whisper just as faked.

“How long until she goes running over there?”

“Oh, I’d say about two point five seconds.”
Lillith swatted at my arm, and God, for the first

time since I’d returned, I felt truly, completely as if
I were home.

“Stop it, you two. Like I don’t hear you over

there.”

We both laughed. Nikki dropped her arm and

moved to face me, pulling her cell phone from
where it was tucked in her back pocket. “What’s
your number in case you get lost?” she said with a
grin hugging her mouth as she dipped her head to
look down. Her fingers were poised to input my
number.

I almost got the entire thing out before my

mouth went dry and the numbers came to a
sluggish, sticky halt, my tongue unable to form a
sound.

The man standing next to Broderick had turned

around and was looking in our direction.

The smile slid right off his gorgeous face when

he saw me staring at him. But somehow, the

transformation into the hard scowl was just as
mesmerizing.

Just as hypnotic.
Maybe more so.
Because I felt weightless beneath his glare.
Fluttery and uneasy.
Mesmerized.
Those sage eyes were so hard and intense.

Capturing me. Holding me hostage. So dark they
should have held the power to conceal the fire that
raged in the depths, scored like markers in his spirit.

But I saw it. Felt it where it stuck in the heated,

stagnant air.

The pain buried underneath.
Nikki lifted her head in question, her fingers

ready for the last two numbers. “Hello?”

Snapping out of it, I cleared my throat.

“Oh . . . um, sorry, six-two.”

“Got it,” she said before she gave me a salute

and backed away. “Eight o’clock, my friend. Don’t
make me hunt you down. You know I will.”

I tore my attention from the man pinning me to

the spot from the other side of the street. His hold
was just as heavy as if he were right in front of me,
physically restraining me with those massive hands.

“I’ll be there,” I told her.
“You’d better be.” She winked.
Lillith squeezed my hand gently before she

backed away to cross the street. “It was great to

finally meet you, Rynna. This is going to be good. I
can just feel it. I’m so glad we took the chance and
stopped in.”

She said it without realizing the impact her

words had on me. The way they flooded me with
warmth and hope. The way they nudged the
aspirations at the root of who I was, freeing them
from where they’d been trapped deep inside.

My gaze roamed, drawn back to the man who

hadn’t moved an inch. Hostility rippled off him like
heat waves.

I had no idea why I felt it. Compelled. Driven

toward a man that seemed so rigid, so dangerous to
my sanity.

But I felt it. He needed someone to revive his

faith just as desperately as I did.

Because looking at him?
I suddenly knew he had none of it. That

something had gone dim inside him.

That was the thing about chances.
We didn’t know their outcomes.
If we’d succeed or if we’d fail.
It didn’t matter.
I had to take a chance on him.

Want more of Rex and Rynna?

Read On

PART II

FAULT LINES

REBECCA SHEA

PROLOGUE

10 YEARS AGO

FINGERS

DIG

into the brown dirt between the

patches of dead grass that used to once be a lush
front yard. A jagged stone cuts into the soft flesh of
my knee as I try to get control of the involuntary
lurching of my stomach, which has me crippled on
all fours.

Tears fall in streams, and I gasp for breath as I

hear the sound of heavy footsteps near me.

“Frances—”
“Get away from me!” I scream at the soft

voice.

“It’s not—”
“I said get the hell away from me!” My

stomach clenches against another wave of nausea
as I hear her footprints begin to move away.
“Goooooo!” I shout at her again.

I manage to look over my shoulder and see

Whitney Carson’s long blonde hair swaying as she
walks quickly back across the cul-de-sac to her piss
yellow, beat-to-hell Mustang. I barely make out the
swell of her belly as she slides into the driver’s seat
and slams the door behind her. The roar of the
engine tells me she’s leaving.

One last heave and there is nothing left for my

stomach to expel, leaving me with only my tears.
My throat burns, and my breaths come in small
gasps.

I hear the creak of the old screen door and my

mama's worn shoes come into sight just before I
feel her arms around me. “Baby girl, what’s wrong?
We weren’t expecting you home from school until
tomorrow…” Her voice is quiet, yet panicked as
she kneels next to me, her white uniform dress
getting dirty.

I finished my finals early so that I could come

home and surprise Cole and my mom, but the
surprise was all mine. “Mama,” I cry between
ragged breaths. “I came home early to surprise you
and—”

“Stop," she cuts me off, looking over my

shoulder behind me. "Let’s get you inside. If this
has anything to do with that girl that’s been coming
around, he’s not worth your tears. You’re going to
put your chin up and enjoy your summer.” She tugs
at my arm in hopes to get me to budge.

I shake my head back and forth violently. “No.

I can’t stay here,” I manage through my tears. I
can't stay and watch this happen. I can't stay and
watch them.

“What do you mean? Where would you go?”

Her voice grows with concern.

“I don’t know, but I can’t stay here.” The hot

summer air hangs heavy around us, and sweat
beads along my forehead at my hairline. The
thought of Cole touching Whitney Carson causes
my stomach to flip again, and I dry heave as I pinch
my eyes closed.

Mom rubs her hand over my arm as I try to gain

my composure and move from all fours to sitting on
the dirt. “Well, come inside until we figure this
out.” Her voice is soft and sad. “I’ve always told
you he was—”

“Please stop—" I cut her off now, not wanting

to talk about Cole with her.

I hear her deep sigh. “Come on. I’ll run you a

hot bath. We need to get you cleaned up.”

The tears still fall in waves as my heart breaks

with each step I take toward our house and away
from Cole Ryan. As I think about it, the last few
months begin to make sense. I sensed Cole pulling
away from me. He'd become distant, not returning
my calls or answering text messages. Mama called
me and had told me about the rumors she'd heard,
but we chose to chalk them up to small town
gossip. Crescent Ridge is just that, a small town

where no one has anything else to do but talk about
other people and spread rumors.

Suddenly, realization hits me that the one

person I trusted more than anyone in the world
betrayed me. He’s been my best friend since I was
eleven, my first crush, my first love, my first
everything. No other person will ever etch himself
so boldly into my history as Cole Ryan did. No
other person held the cards to destroy me like Cole
Ryan did. And did he ever.

I bite my tongue, tasting the slightest hint of

blood as Mama walks me up the raggedy old front
porch of our house. “Keep walking, baby girl.” She
guides me through the front door. "Keep your chin
held high," she says quietly, the screen door
slamming hard behind us.

She looks at me with sympathetic eyes and her

voice cracks as she speaks. “Now you can fall
apart, Frances. Don’t ever let him see you crumble;
don't give him that control. He is not worth your
tears.”

And crumble is what I do as I sink to the faded

wood floors of our living room, Mama rocking me
in her lap, her fingers stroking my hair and wiping
my tears. I cry and scream for the love I believed
in, for the boy who owned my heart, and the loss of
the one person I long for—the one person I had
planned to spend my last breath with.

Mama holds me for hours as my tears come and

go. At the first hints of the morning sunlight, I peel
myself from Mama’s lap, my head pounding from
the hours of crying. I pull my cell phone from my
back pocket and press the name of the only other
friend I have.

“Ash.” My voice breaks and I barely make out

what she's saying, but one thing is certain. I'm
getting the hell out of Crescent Ridge and never
looking back. “I’m coming,” I tell her.

Between my tears and gasping breaths, I

disconnect my call and see Mama swipe at the tears
on her aging cheeks. She sat here all night
comforting me as I lay helpless in her lap. In the
end, she’s the one person who believes in me and
has loved me unconditionally, and here I am about
to leave her behind. Leave everything I know and
love behind, without a second thought. For good.

I know that when I drive away from here today,

I’ll never be back—I can’t come back. I’m leaving
my broken heart behind, along with the only man
I’ve ever love.

I toss my bag and one small box of belongings

from my childhood bedroom in the trunk of my car
and slide into the driver's seat of my old Honda.
Without a second thought, I put the car in drive and
glance just once out my rearview mirror as I pull
away. The last thing I see is Cole Ryan, hunched
over the paint-chipped railing of his front porch as I
drive away from Crescent Ridge, leaving him, my

past, and my mama behind.

Chapter 1

PRESENT DAY

TANDING

in front of the floor length mirror, I glance

at my reflection. My long brown hair falls in loose
waves just above my shoulders. I pull my fingers
through the waves, taming the ends to fall carefully
into place before running my nervous hands down
the length of my black dress, willfully brushing
away any wrinkles.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and try to

will my erratic heart into settling down.

“Ready?” Ted calls to me from the bedroom.
“Almost,” I answer him and open my eyes.
I reach for the diamond tennis bracelet on the

vanity and fasten it around my wrist. One last look
in the mirror and I meet Ted in the bedroom where
he's been waiting for me.

Tall with dark hair just starting to gray at the

temples, Ted is the epitome of striking. Wearing his

custom charcoal gray suit, his blue eyes stand out
against his tan skin. If he weren’t a lawyer, he
would be gracing the covers of a men’s fashion
magazine—he's that beautiful.

“You look stunning,” he says with a soft smile.

“The cameras are going to eat you up.”

I shake my head and blush. “That’s not what

this is about. I want the guilty verdict. I want justice
for those families—”

“And you’ll get it,” he cuts me off. “I’m so

damn proud of you.” He walks across the wood
floor, wrapping himself around me. “You never
cease to amaze me, Frances.” He presses his lips to
my temple. “I was disappointed when you left the
firm, but now I understand why you did it. I think I
get it—it just fits you.”

I smile at his acceptance. “You know that the

public sector was where I always wanted to end
up.”

He nods and runs his hands up and down my

arms.

I lean into him and wrap my arms around his

waist. His embrace is where I always find comfort.
“I will always be grateful for my time at the firm.
The experience I received there was
immeasurable…and it led me to you.” I pull back
and stand on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his soft
lips.

With his arms wrapped tightly around me in

return, he releases a long sigh and mumbles against
my lips. “As much as I could stand here and kiss
you all morning, we need to get going or you’re
going to be late. You look great. Get your nerves in
check and walk with your chin held high.” He
releases me.

I nod at him with a shaky smile. Ted always

knows how to calm me. I grab my purse from the
bench at the end of our bed and follow him to the
car.

The morning is a blur as my stomach twists and

turns in the hours leading up to the verdict. I busy
myself by reading my closing argument over and
over—even though I’d memorized it weeks ago and
presented it to the jury three days ago.

We finally got word late yesterday afternoon

that a verdict had been reached. The jury
deliberated for two and half days…two and half of
the longest days of my life. How selfish, I think to
myself as I turn around and look at the Morrison
and Longmire families sitting behind me. The loss
of a child will truly destroy you.

I’ve waited two and half days for a verdict, and

they’ve been waiting for two years. It took us two
years to build the case we needed to bring Terry
Nelson to trial for the sexual assault and murder of
their two beautiful little girls, Sadie Morrison and
Eva Longmire. Two six-year-old girls who were
best friends and in the same kindergarten class.

Two little girls who had their entire futures ahead of
them, gone at the hands of a vicious predator. Two
families that will never be the same again, ever.

Mr. Longmire nods once at me and offers a

tight smile. I’ve seen him age significantly in these
last two years, more than a man his age should. His
hair is now graying and his skin is ashen. I've never
seen a pair of eyes that hold as much sadness as his.
He's worn, and tired, but hanging on for his baby
girl. Losing a child in the most brutal of ways will
do that to a man.

I turn back to my notes just as the defense team

arrives. I have to tuck my hands underneath the
table to hide the shaking. The defendant, Terry
Nelson, is brought into the courtroom and placed at
the defense table. I glance over my shoulder just in
time to catch an encouraging smile from Ted as the
bailiff enters with the jury. My heart pounds wildly
as we all rise and Judge Vincent arrives and takes a
seat.

When everyone sits, I inhale sharply, pulling the

air deep into my lungs, and scan the faces of each
of the twelve jurors, looking for the slightest signs
of what the verdict may be. Twelve jurors, men and
women, young and old, who have spent the last five
weeks of their lives listening to me present
evidence, question witnesses, medical examiners,
and detectives in hopes of bringing the Morrison
and Longmire families the justice they deserve—

for Sadie and Eva.

Judge Vincent addresses the jury before finally

asking the foreman if the jury has reached a
verdict. Blood rushes to my head, momentarily
deafening me as the foreman speaks. A single piece
of paper is passed between the foreman, bailiff, and
onto the clerk. The clerk inhales and her eyes scan
the paper in her hands. The very piece of paper that
could send a murderer back onto the streets, or
send him to prison for the rest of his life where he
belongs.

My case was rock solid—or so I believed. The

DNA and the evidence I presented told the story of
the gruesome and violent murders of those two
little girls; in my eyes, evidence doesn't lie…but the
puzzle I had to weave together to convince the jury
of those facts could say otherwise.

I hear the swooshing sound of my heart racing,

but I’m unable to make out the words as the clerk
begins to speak. I see her lips moving and her eyes
dance between the defense team and myself. The
piece of paper in her hand shakes slightly as she
speaks.

It’s only when my head clears that I’m finally

able to register the words the clerk spoke.

“Guilty.” On two counts of first-degree murder.
"Guilty." On handfuls of other charges, but the

one that matters, first-degree murder is all I hear.

I bury my face in my hands, choking down the

emotion that has bubbled to the surface. Emotion I
never show. Emotion I learned a long time ago how
to bury.

The sounds of gasps and cries from the families

behind me fill the small courtroom as the judge
calls for order. Everything else happens quickly,
and I’m honored to meet the jury and thank them
for their verdict. I spend the next couple of hours
meeting with the families of Eva and Sadie, walking
them through the next steps and listening to them
speak words of gratitude I don’t deserve. Eva and
Sadie should be here—that’s all I can think about.

In the pressroom, I attend the press conference

and speak to the media on behalf of the District
Attorney's office, as well as the families of Eva and
Sadie. I’m exhausted when I finally exit the
courtroom after collecting my belongings. I find
Ted in the hallway, waiting patiently for me, his
phone pressed to his ear. When his eyes find mine,
he hangs up quickly and saunters across the tile
floor, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Proud of you, counselor.”
For the first time in days, I feel like I can

actually breathe. I take a deep breath, letting the
stale air from the courthouse fill my lungs.

“Thank you.” I’m finally able to muster.

“Thank you for believing in me,” I tell him, an
exhausted smile pulling at my lips. “Now let’s go
get that drink you promised.”

***

Pushing through the doors to Manny’s, I see
everyone assembled near the bar. Friends and
colleagues that I have worked with throughout the
years have been waiting on me to arrive to
celebrate today’s verdict.

“Congratulations!” Everyone cheers as Ted and

I approach the bar. I toss my purse on a bar stool
and reach for the glass of white wine that Eduardo,
my co-counsel, is holding out for me. Pressing the
cool glass to my lips, I let the smooth wine settle on
my tongue before swallowing.

“I’m so damn proud of you." He leans in and

whispers, wrapping one arm around my shoulders.

“I couldn’t have done it without you. I mean

that.” I smile at him and squeeze his arm in a
gesture of gratitude. Eduardo took me under his
wing when I joined the county attorney’s office a
little over four years ago. I was an experienced trial
lawyer, having learned the ins and outs of trial law
with Ted’s firm, but this is new. I’m on the
prosecuting end now. This is where I always
dreamed to be. Ted’s firm helped me get here and
Eduardo has been my mentor and basically my best
friend since I arrived.

“I’d be surprised if they even try to appeal,” he

says, taking a sip of his vodka tonic. “You were

that good. There were no holes in your closing
arguments. You presented solid evidence and left
nothing for them to come back at us with.”

“She learned from the best,” Ted says, leaning

over my shoulder.

Eduardo’s eyes glance away from mine and up

to Ted’s. “Mr. Winters,” Eduardo says, reaching out
to shake Ted’s. “Nice to see you again.” It’s hard to
miss Eduardo’s visible disdain for Ted. His jaw ticks
and he swallows hard, but as always, he is the
epitome of professional and is always gracious.

“I’ve learned a great deal from both of you.” I

smile and wish for the pissing contest to end. “Let’s
enjoy our victory.” I hold up my glass of wine to
toast, raising my eyebrows, a silent plea to Ted to
be nice and he obliges.

“To guilty verdicts,” Eduardo cheers, raising his

glass.

Ted gives his head a little shake but reiterates

Eduardo’s sentiments.

“To guilty verdicts,” we all repeat and take a

drink.

I notice Ted step away to take a phone call and

I turn my attention back to Eduardo.

“First and only time I think I’ll ever hear him

say that,” Eduardo jokes.

“I think that’s the first and only time I’ll ever

hear him say that, too.” I laugh.

My fiancé, Ted Winters, is partner in Winters

and Seldon, one of the smallest yet most prestigious
law firms in Los Angeles County. Ted is known for
representing some of the most high profile, and
even dangerous, criminals in California. What cases
he doesn’t win, he prides himself on reduced
charges, jail time, and fines.

Not guilty—those two words drive him to be the

greatest. He’s the best of the best, and he hired me
right out of law school. He taught me the way
around a courtroom, the best oral arguments, and
the tricks to dissect evidence and to look for what
everyone else is missing. I took what I learned from
Ted and am finally putting it to use as a Deputy
District Attorney for Los Angeles County. I always
wanted to be on this end of the law, finding justice
and doing right by the law.

To avoid any conflict of interest, I avoid all

cases where Winters and Seldon is concerned.
There are plenty of other prosecutors to try those,
and it's best, both professionally and personally, if I
avoid any cases Ted or his firm are involved in.

As I look around the bar at my friends and

colleagues, I can’t help but smile proudly at how
far I've come—and for the people who've been
with me on this journey.

As my smile fades, I feel the exhaustion hit me

like a freight train and, with a few glasses of wine
on top of that, I find the need for fresh air. I weave
through a sea of bodies in the bar area and push

through the large glass door, which leads out onto
the rooftop patio. Los Angeles has far from quality
air, but pulling the mild summer breeze into my
lungs feels good. A sense of calm falls over me as
the adrenaline from the day wears off. Carrying the
stress of this trial on my shoulders for weeks has
wreaked havoc on my sleep, my diet, and exercise,
and I can feel the toll it’s taken on my body.

I watch the cars below, crawling along the busy

Los Angeles streets, and the hustle and bustle of
the city just fifty stories below me. It’s windy up
here on the patio, and the soft afternoon breeze
whips my hair around. I tilt my face to the sky and
let the setting sun cast its warm rays on me when
my phone buzzes in my hand. I hesitate, wanting to
indulge in a few more moments of silence, but I
think better of it.

Glancing down, I see my mom’s home number

flashing on the sleek screen of my oversized mobile
phone.

“Hi, Mama.” I take a deep breath, excited to

hear her voice.

“Frankie?”
My heart sinks when I hear a man’s voice. A

voice I could never forget. A voice so familiar that
it still haunts me to this day.

Cole. The only person to ever call me Frankie.

My heart stills as I wait for him to say more.

“You need to come home,” he says gruffly.

My stomach drops as his voice takes my breath

away. The pull it still has on me shakes me to my
core. Before he says anything else, I close my eyes
and find myself lost in time, back to when I was
eleven years old, spending my afternoons down at
the fault line, soaking up the last of the sunlight
with Cole by my side.

Crescent Ridge, Nevada resides right on top of

a fault line, a town with less than eight hundred
people, and sits on the California/Nevada border. A
town I left ten years ago and haven’t returned to—
because of Cole.

I swallow hard against my dry throat. “Why?” I

barely manage to ask.

“It’s your mama, Frankie.”
“Is she okay?” I ask frantically.
I hear bits and pieces of what he’s saying, but

nothing is really registering. Collapsed, stroke,
scans, breathing…but before he has a chance to say
anything else, I move into panic mode.

“I’m on my way,” I tell him, disconnecting the

call.

My hand shakes wildly as I grip my phone. This

morning I was on top of the world. This afternoon,
my world has done a one-eighty.

***
"I don't know, Faith, he called me first," I bark

at my sister, who's frantically asking me questions.
"He called and said something happened to Mom

and I needed to come home. Where are you?" My
voice peaks with annoyance.

"Disneyworld, Franny, remember?" she gripes

at me, just as annoyed.

"Shit," I sigh.
Faith moved back to Crescent Ridge with her

two kids three years ago after her divorce. The one
weekend she finally gets a break, a vacation with
her kids, something happens to Mom.

"I'll call the airlines and switch our return flights

as soon as we hang up."

"Don't," I sigh. "Let me get home and see how

bad it is. You've worked so hard to be able to give
the kids this vacation. Enjoy the last couple of days
there. The kids deserve it. You deserve it."

Faith is an amazing mom and is the sole

provider for my niece and nephew. I send her
money every now and then so she doesn't need to
worry, but I know it's still hard on her. Faith and I
were inseparable as little girls, and there isn't
anything she wouldn't do for me, or me for her. If I
can alleviate some of her financial stress, I'll always
help.

Mama won't accept a dime of my money, telling

me I've worked too damn hard to get where I am to
give my money away. God knows she needs it.
Faith tells me the house is falling apart, but Mama
won't hear of it when I offer a few dollars to fix
things up.

"You call me as soon as you know something,

and we'll still come home early if we need to." Her
voice breaks.

"Okay. I need to go pack so I can get on the

road," I tell her with an exaggerated sigh.

"Franny?" she says quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. I know home is the last place you

want to go."

I swallow hard as I feel a lump form in my

throat. "You're welcome." I'm barely able to speak.
She's right. Crescent Ridge is the last place I want
to be.

But it’s where I have to go.
I begin to forge a trail in the floor between my

dresser and closet, frantically pulling shirts off
hangers and shoving pants haphazardly into my
large suitcase while admonishing myself for not
asking more questions about my mom.

Ted appears with an extra-large coffee from the

chain coffee shop down the street, handing it to me
before turning away to finish his phone
conversation, his phone still pressed to his ear.
Most nights are like this. He’s hungry and tireless
when it comes to his business and his clients. He
instilled in me that work ethic, but where Ted is all
business, I draw the line at my Mama and Faith.
They are the only family I have and they will
always trump business. Always.

Guilt settles in when I think of how I haven’t

seen my mom in five years. Five years ago, she got
on a bus and rode to L.A. to see me. Five years
since I’ve seen her face and felt the comforting
hugs she always plied me with. I used to pay for
Mama to come see me, but the last five years she's
declined my offers. She tells me she's too tired to
travel at her age. Now my heart aches that I've
been so selfish and haven't gone to see her.

I slam my suitcase closed, zipping it up and

pulling it off the bed. I drag the heavy case down
the steps, letting it thump against each step as I
descend the stairs. Ted doesn’t notice as he stands,
leaning his shoulder against the hallway wall, still
on the phone.

“Bye,” I whisper as I walk past him and drag

the suitcase out the front door to my waiting
Mercedes. I shove it in the trunk, while cursing at
how heavy it is, then I settle into the driver’s seat.
I’m putting the ignition in reverse when I see Ted
bounding down the concrete steps from our house,
the top button of his shirt undone and his tie
loosened. As I roll down the window, he leans in,
pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek.

He sighs. “I really wish you’d leave in the

morning.”

“I can’t, Ted. I haven’t seen her in years and it

sounds bad.”

He nods in understanding. “Do not drive if

you’re tired. Pull over and stay at a motel.”

“I’ll be fine,” I tell him, lifting the coffee he

bought me. I press the cup to my lips and take a sip,
feeling the warm liquid slide down my throat and
settle into my belly. Truth is, I don’t need the
caffeine. The adrenaline running through my veins
could keep me up for days.

“Then just call me when you get there.” He

looks over his shoulder and down the street.

“I will. Is everything okay?” I ask as his eyes

scan the street.

His gaze returns to me, but it's hard not to

notice the concern in his eyes. “Yes. Just want to
make sure you make it okay, baby. Take care of
your mom. Everything here can wait.” He presses a
quick kiss to my forehead before stepping away
from the car.

I manage a tight smile as I reverse out of the

driveway and toward the town I swore I’d never
return to.

Chapter 2

FRANCES

EARLY

EIGHT

HOURS

LATER

, I exit the interstate and

onto the two-lane county road that will lead me into
Crescent Ridge. More than forty miles with not a
streetlight in sight is all that is left to travel. Stars
light up the bright sky, guiding me home—to the
one place I vowed I'd never return to. The evening
sky was one of my favorite things growing up in
Crescent Ridge. The stars provided hope that there
was more than the small town I lived in. A town I
was willing to stay in for Cole. I would’ve given up
every dream I had—for him.

The sound of his voice on the phone echoes

through my head, and my stomach clenches at the
thought of seeing him. I swallow hard and push my
anger to the side as I think about my mom and what
I’m about to walk into.

As I ease my car down the long road that dead

ends into the cul-de-sac where my childhood home
sits, a flood of emotions overcomes me. Tears fill
my eyes when I see how different everything looks
since I fled ten years ago. The houses look smaller
and the trees look bigger. Ahead of me lies a quiet
street full of houses that have seen better days.

Gravel crunches beneath the tires as I pull into

the small driveway. My fingers are wrapped tightly
around the steering wheel and my eyes are glued to
the front porch. Hanging baskets of flowers once
hung from the covered porch and flowerbeds used
to hang from the porch railing, displaying beautiful
arrangements of flowers.

It was the one splurge my mom indulged in. Our

house was less than modest, but she claimed the
flowers gave it an appearance that we cared about
our home. Even in the dark, I can see that nothing
is left but the hooks that the baskets used to hang
on and the empty flowerbeds appear to have not
seen a flower in years.

Where the porch was once painted white, it's

now mostly gray from the weathered wood beneath
where the paint has long since cracked and mostly
disappeared. The three wood steps that lead up to
the front porch lean to one side, and the dilapidated
wood looks as if it could splinter and break apart.

I swallow hard against my dry throat when

memories overcome me and take me back to a time
where I spent summer nights sitting on those steps,

shoulder to shoulder with Cole. My legs would be
crisscrossed and tucked tightly underneath me
while I talked to him, telling him stories and the
plans I had for us. I planned our entire lives on
those wooden steps, and I realize now that those
plans were as dilapidated and weak as those steps
had become.

Shaking off the thought, I remember Cole lying

on his back, his long legs bent at the knee and
propped on one of the steps. He'd lie there with a
giant smile on his face as he listened to me talk. He
rarely spoke when I'd tell him my dreams, instead
he'd listen. He was a sponge, taking in every word.
As we got older, he could recite every detail of my
plans, and he'd whisper them to me as I'd fall asleep
in his arms.

There were two things I believed in back then

—Cole Ryan, and the plans I made for us. Sadly,
both of those turned out to be nothing but a lie.

***
I navigate the delicate steps, carefully dragging

my suitcase behind me. The front door is unlocked,
just as it always was growing up. Crescent Ridge is
small, and we never worried about anyone entering
unannounced.

Stepping over the threshold and into the dark

living room, I can see a dim light coming from the
kitchen. I close the front door quietly and drop my
suitcase and purse on the living room floor as

carefully as I can without making too much noise. I
rush quietly down the hall to check on my mom.

I twist the door handle and push open the door.

I can hear the faint sounds of her heavy breathing,
and my upset stomach instantly begins to settle.
Tiptoeing across the wood floor, I lean in and press
a gentle kiss to her forehead. She doesn't move, and
the steady sounds of her breathing tell me she's still
sound asleep.

I close the door quietly behind me and when I

look up, there is a short lady in scrubs standing in
the hallway drying her hands on a kitchen towel.

"You must be Frances," she whispers and pulls

her glasses off her face, tucking them into the tight
graying curls on top of her head. She rests the towel
on her shoulder and smiles at me.

"I am." I walk over to her and hold out my

hand.

She takes it graciously and shakes. "I've heard a

lot about you. I'm Judy, the home nurse Mr. Ryan
hired."

I nod and smile tightly. Cole's father, Stephen

Ryan, was a considerate neighbor, always looking
out for my mom, Faith, and me. He'd do odds and
ends around the house without ever being asked,
simply because he was a nice guy. We'd wake up on
Saturday mornings and he'd be painting the porch
or in the spring, Mom’s garden would suddenly be
tilled. He’d just show up and do things that he knew

needed to get done. He’d make Cole mow the lawn,
and he always took care of mom’s car when
something was wrong, never expecting anything in
return. It doesn’t surprise me that he arranged to
have a nurse here for Mom, either.

“That was very kind of him,” I tell Judy. As the

“organizer” in me takes over, I start listing off what
we need to do next. “I’d like to transfer payment
over to me,” I tell her as she stands, listening to me.
“Mr. Ryan is very generous to have paid for your
services up until now, and I’m sure they were costly
—and probably more than he could afford.” Judy
raises her eyebrows and purses her lips in
confusion, but I’m not about to tell her that Stephen
Ryan isn’t wealthy. “And I’m going to need to keep
you around until I understand what I’m dealing
with. I’m going to need your professional opinion
on whether this is something she can recover from,
or if I’m going to need to transfer her to a larger
town where she can receive better medical care and
placed in a care home if needed.”

She shakes her head and reaches for my arm.

“Slow down, Frances.” She offers me a tight smile,
and I exhale softly. “Let’s go to the kitchen and sit
down. Let me bring you up to speed on what’s
happening.” She tugs at my arm and leads me
toward the kitchen. The first thing I notice is the
old linoleum floor that once was white has now
yellowed and begun to wear in the high traffic

areas.

The small round wood table I used to eat every

meal at still has the burgundy fabric placemats in
front of each of the four chairs, with a napkin
holder and salt and pepper shakers sitting in the
center of the table.

The appliances are old but still look to be in

good condition, and the old Formica counter tops
are faded and stained from years of use. Mom and I
would use every square inch of countertop in this
tiny kitchen as she taught me how to cook and
bake. Those were some of my fondest memories
with her.

“Sit down,” Judy urges, pointing to the kitchen

table as she pulls a mug from the kitchen cupboard
and fills it with coffee. She sets it in front of me and
pulls a sugar bowl from the other counter, placing it
in the middle of the table before she sits down and
picks up her own mug of coffee. With a quick sip,
she wraps her hands around the mug, lacing her
fingers together as if to keep her hands warm.

“Your mom has a long road ahead of her,” she

says quietly. “But I’ve seen so many people
overcome this. A stroke can permanently debilitate
her, but sometimes, many times actually, with the
right medical care and therapy, I’ve seen people
return to fully functioning adults. Only time will
tell." She sits back in the wood chair and it creaks
underneath her small frame.

"The doctors are extremely optimistic, Frances.

You should be, too." She smiles at me.

I sip from my coffee as I feel a lump begin to

form in my throat as I think about how scared my
mom must have been having no one here.

"So, what we know," she says, taking a deep

breath. "The stroke was on the right side of her
brain. The right side affects the left side of your
body. She has some paralysis on the left side of her
body, including her face. Her speech is impaired,
but it's still very good all things considered. You'll
notice a slur, but you'll still be able to understand
everything she says. She also has some memory
loss. How significant?" she shrugs, "we're not sure
yet. That's why we're glad you're here. Once you
can begin to speak with her, we'll be able to
determine what she remembers and what she
doesn't. We'll need you to help us gauge her
memory loss so we can understand the severity of
that."

I nod, knowingly, feeling slightly overwhelmed

by what I've just been told.

With a deep sigh, Judy continues, "We're going

to want her to rest for a few more days and not
push anything. Next week we'll begin physical,
occupational, and speech therapy. All of them have
been arranged for in-home treatment. Mr. Ryan
took care of all that."

I clear my throat in hopes that the agitation that

I feel growing doesn't come across. "Mr. Ryan, as
wonderful of a neighbor that's he's been, really
shouldn't be making appointments and decisions on
behalf of my mother. I'd like all medical decisions
to be made by me." I rub my eyes in exhaustion.
All of this is overwhelming and I just want to cry.

Judy reaches across the table and rests her hand

on top of mine. "We tried," she says quietly. "Mr.
Ryan said he left you multiple messages on your
voice mail at work. That was the only number we
could locate for you until he got someone to hack
the password on your mother's cell phone and we
were able to retrieve your mobile number." She
looks at me sympathetically. "Her password was
one of the things she couldn't remember." Her eyes
fall to her mug of coffee. "Mr. Ryan insisted on not
contacting Faith. He said something about her being
through enough…" Her voice trails off, and I cringe
as I think of that little red notification on my office
phone that has been blinking for the past three
days.

"I was at trial," I respond, lost in thought. "I

assumed it was reporters and I ignored the voice
messages." I shake my head as tears flood my tired
eyes and I finally allow my emotions to get the
better of me.

"Don't," Judy shushes me. "Don't beat yourself

up. You're here now, and this is when we really
need you."

I nod and wipe the tears from my cheeks with

the back of my hand as I try to compose myself.

"Let's get you to bed so you can rest,” she

suggests. “I'll walk you through all the fine details
in the morning when you get up."

I don't argue with Judy. Instead I quietly get up

from the kitchen table and retrieve my suitcase. I
pad lightly down the worn hard wood floors to my
childhood bedroom at the end of the hallway. I
pause before entering and stare at the old door's
white paint, chipping off in little slivers. The glass
doorknob feels smaller in my hand than it used to
as I twist it and open the door. My hand searches
the wall, flipping the light switch on when I find it.
A dull yellow light casts a low glow in the small
room, just enough to see that nothing has been
touched since I left over ten years ago.

My heart stills at the sight of the posters on the

wall and the pictures still propped perfectly in their
frames on my dresser. The same bedspread is still
spread across the mattress I slept on as far back as I
can remember, and my bookshelf is still covered in
books I’d read throughout my childhood.

I drop my suitcase on the floor at the foot of my

bed and peel the covers back. The old white sheets
are now yellowed, but they smell freshly washed.
Mom always washed our bedding weekly, a habit, it
appears, she continues to keep up even though I'm
no longer here.

I don't bother to undress; I simply crawl into

bed and lay my head on the old, flat pillows, letting
sleep overtake me before I even have time to close
my eyes.

***
I wake with a start when I hear my cell phone

ringing. Scrambling to the end of the bed, I grab it
from the top of the suitcase where I tossed it last
night. Six twenty-seven shines brightly on the
screen just under Ted's name. I tap the answer
button, but before I even have a chance to speak,
Ted is barking at me.

"Jesus Christ, Frances, I've been worried sick

about you. You didn't even text me to let me know
you made it." The agitation in his voice is palpable.

I close my eyes and toss myself back onto my

pillow, holding the phone away from my ear as he
chastises me for my lack of consideration.

"Sorry," I mumble and cover my eyes with my

forearm to block the bright early morning light. "It
was just so late, and…" I pause.

"You sound like shit. Get some rest and fill me

in later—maybe actually call me this time," he
snaps, disconnecting the call. I stare at the screen
as his name disappears and wonder what the heck
just happened. I've known Ted for six years, and
he's barely raised his voice to me, ever.

I see Faith's text message from five hours ago,

telling me she's on the redeye flight home and will

be here in the morning, which should be anytime
now. Flipping the switch on the side of the phone to
silence it, I roll over, covering my head with throw
pillow. I've only been asleep a few hours and I
know I'll need a few more before I'm able to fully
function.

Sleep doesn't come to me, though. I toss and

turn in my lumpy old bed, wondering if my mom is
awake, so I can see her and update Faith when she
arrives. My stomach twists and I'm not sure if it's
nervousness or hunger, but I finally push myself out
of bed. The house is quiet as I make my way down
the hall and through the living room where I find
Judy sitting at the kitchen table where I left her just
hours ago.

She looks twice at me before giving her head a

little shake. "You really should get some more
sleep," she says, turning back to her iPad and the
book she's reading.

I ignore her remark at my appearance. "What

are you reading?"

"Mary Higgins Clark. She's my favorite."
"Mysteries, huh? And do I really look that

bad?" I shuffle over to the coffee pot that has a
freshly brewed pot just waiting for me.

She glances at me out of the corner of her eyes.

"Kind of," she murmurs.

I laugh. I actually let out a loud laugh, and she

begins to laugh along with me.

"Thank you for your honesty," I tell her,

pouring myself a mug of piping hot coffee. "I'm
used to getting mere hours of sleep, though. After I
catch a shower, I actually clean up quite nicely." I
join her at the kitchen table, in the same spot I sat a
couple of hours ago. "So, Judy, shoot it straight with
me. What can I expect when I see her?"

Judy sets her iPad down and looks up at me.

“Like I mentioned before, her left side has
paralysis. She moves slowly and struggles with her
arm and leg. She also struggles to eat. We were
cleared to bring her home from the hospital and to
feed her, but," she emphasizes loudly, "we have to
be very careful." She taps her pointer on the
kitchen table. "She can choke very easily. We've
been keeping her to softer types of foods to help
with her ease of swallowing. There is a list on the
counter." She gestures over her shoulder to a binder
on the counter next to the refrigerator.

“I think where you're going to struggle the

most, Frances, is with her speech,” she continues.
“She has, what we call, aphasia. She has trouble
finding the correct words, or piecing together a
sentence that makes sense. This is also extremely
common after a stroke,” she reminds me. “A
speech therapist will be coming to help with this.
Your mom's case is relatively mild, which is good,"
she sighs. "With on-going therapy, this is something
she can hopefully recover from."

"Jesus," I mutter into my mug.
"Patience, Frances." She squeezes my hand.

"You're going to need patience. She's trying so hard,
and when she gets frustrated, you have to be there
to calm her down. I see this with every stroke
patient I've worked with. They want to return to
everything they were doing before, only their body
and their brain won't allow that."

I nod as I listen carefully.
Judy glances up at the small round clock on the

kitchen wall. "She usually wakes up about eight, so
you have an hour before she'll be up. At nine,
Melinda, the day nurse, will be arriving. I'll be back
this evening, but I wanted to be here with you to
help you get settled in with her."

"How many nurses does she have?" I ask,

wondering how many people have been helping
mom.

“There are two of us. We normally don't work

overnight as once she's in bed she really doesn't
need us, but for the next few weeks one of us will
be here. And eventually, she'll probably only need
us here for a short time during the days as she
becomes more independent."

I look over Judy's shoulder and into the living

room. My eyes find the large framed picture of
Faith and I that was taken when I was eleven and
Faith was fifteen. My sad smile stares back at me,
and I find myself momentarily lost in time,

remembering that picture being taken not long after
Mom moved us into this house.

I stand up and clutch the mug of hot coffee in

my hands. "Will you excuse me, Judy? I'm going to
step outside and catch some fresh air before
cleaning up."

She seems a bit taken aback by my abrupt

departure. "Of course. Take all the time you need.
Your mom doesn't even know you're here. We
didn't want to tell her in the event you couldn't
make it."

I pause in my tracks and furrow my brows in

confusion.

"I mean, Mr. Ryan said you're very busy," Judy

adds quickly, as if it'll make me feel better.

"It's fine, Judy. I am busy, but never too busy

for my mom." I smile tightly at her as guilt fills me.
Everyone knows I haven't been around for the
better part of ten years, and sadly, they weren't
even sure I was going to come back now that my
mom needs me. The front door opens with a loud
creak as I step out onto the old wooden porch.
Barefoot, I walk carefully as to not get any
splinters. Taking a seat on the top step, as I did for
so many years, I set my coffee mug next to me and
wrap my arms around my knees, pulling them close
to me.

Everything has changed so much with age, yet

very little has changed at all. I turn my face to the

sky and close my eyes, breathing in the morning air,
pulling it deep into my lungs. Tears prick the back
of my eyes as all my emotions bubble at the
surface…my mom, the trial, Crescent Ridge, Cole
Ryan, and everything I left behind.

I don't know if I'm strong enough to handle this

—but right now, I don't have a choice.

Chapter 3

COLE

RUB

EYES

, sure that they're deceiving me…but

they're not. My throat tightens as I look through the
large picture window and across the street at
beautiful Frankie sitting on those front porch steps.
It's a sight I've seen a million times, yet this time is
different—she's different.

She's older and more mature. Her body is the

same, yet she's a woman now and not the girl I
remember. I knew every inch of her back then, and
my body trembles in remembrance as I watch her,
longing for her like I did all those years ago. The
longing never really went away; I just buried it
behind my job, the bottle, and endless women who
could never hold a candle to Frankie.

I lean against the wall and study her—taking

her in. Her hair is longer now… she's ten years
older, but she looks exactly like I envisioned her.

She rocks back and forth slowly, her arms wrapped
around her knees with her face tilted to the sky, just
as she's always done, and my stomach twists at the
sight. How I've longed to reach out to her over the
years—to apologize to her, to explain to her, but
some things are better left in the past, including us.

The sound of her voice on the phone when I

called was enough to send me on a bender. I spent
the night at the garage, drowning my misery and
regret in a fifth of Jim Beam, and even that didn't
drown out the pain of my lies and how they hurt
her—hurt me, and destroyed us.

She sits on those damn lop-sided steps that I've

been meaning to fix for months, but never did. I
couldn't. Those were the steps that Frankie had
built her dreams on, planned her life—a life I was
supposed to be a part of, a life that I let go of—for
her.

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat as

I remember her running her fingers through my hair
as she'd tell me stories on those steps. There was
nothing in the world I loved more than listening to
her and having her run her fingers through my hair.
To this day, no one is allowed to do that to me—
touch me like that, that was Frankie's thing. It'll
only ever be hers.

I close my eyes and push back the memories to

the little place that's too painful to visit. I made a
decision all those years ago and while I've regretted

it every day since then, I still know it was for the
best.

I push off the wall and walk down the hall to

the bathroom, flipping on the shower and turning
the water all the way to hot. I yank open the
medicine cabinet and pull a bottle of ibuprofen off
the shelf, shaking two pills into the palm of my
hand. Tossing them in my mouth, I fight to swallow
them against the back of my dry throat. I'm hoping
the pills and hot water will lessen my headache and
bring some relief to my aching body before I have
to face Frankie.

***
Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I grab

my car keys and jump into my aging Jeep Wrangler.
I spent the better portion of two years after Frankie
left restoring this thing. It was the perfect
distraction and the only way to take out my
frustration. I spent days and nights, for weeks and
months, burying thoughts of Frankie while I
restored it. She's now pristine.

I drive down to the old auto shop, Ryan Auto

Works, the garage my dad opened when I was a
little boy. It's no longer the shop we use, but I keep
tools and personal vehicles I'm working on here. I
couldn't bear selling this building after Pops died.
This was the first building I ever held a wrench in
and where I learned how to change a tire. This shop
was part of me, just like Frankie.

The battered brick building has seen better

days, the once vibrant red brick now faded from
years of sun and weather. I lift the large metal
garage door and it slides open, exposing the old
Harley Davidson and the Ford Mustang I've
recently purchased. When Pops died five years ago,
I took over his auto shop business but also
expanded to restoring vehicles—a hobby of mine.

Three guys run the auto maintenance side, and

my buddy Carter and I do the custom refurbishing.
It's a long and tedious process to restore a vehicle
back to like-new condition, one that can take years.
In fact, I have a wait list up to two years to take on
new projects. In the last couple of years, I've made
connections through recommendations with a
couple A-list actors in Hollywood. Their projects
will take us the better half of the next two years to
complete, with the other guys taking on the bulk of
the other auto repair work. A custom job can run
upward of a quarter of a million dollars, and we
have no shortage of people willing to pay. Our wait
list is insane, and while the lure of big money sits
on that list, I pride myself on quality, not rushing
through a job.

We were fortunate enough to be able to build a

new, modern garage on the other side of Main
Street. In the last couple of years, Crescent Ridge
has actually seen growth in development. We used
to only have a diner, a local grocer, Pop's auto

shop, a gas station, and small drug store. We've
recently added a coffee shop, a dance studio, a
bakery, and a library that serves as a community
center. A small credit union is slated to open later
this year, and I'm reinvesting in Crescent Ridge by
building a small bar and grill that will cater to the
evening crowd.

Progress is good, and it's been great for the

economy here, but it’s even better to finally see
hard working people not struggle to find the jobs
they so desperately need.

"Ryan!" I hear from behind me and I turn

around to see Carter wiping his hands on a dirty
towel.

"What's up, man?" I holler over my shoulder at

him.

"How's Ms. Callaway?" He strides up next to

me, using the towel to wipe grease off his
fingernails.

I stare ahead at the motorcycle, making mental

notes of everything I need to order to restore it.
Distraction, it's what I'm good at.

"Fine," I mumble, walking closer to the bike.
"What's got you in a pissy mood? Shelley not

putting out for you?" He laughs obnoxiously,
following me into the garage.

I ignore his comment and him, kneeling down to

twist a foot peg, hoping to loosen it. Damn thing is
rusted on.

"Hello," he says, waving his arms around to get

my attention. Attention that is focused only on the
girl who still owns my heart. "Earth to—"

"Frankie's back," I tell him quietly, running my

hand over the cracked leather seat of the Harley.
Seeing the condition of this bike physically hurts
me. I've always treated vehicles and motorcycles
like small children—very carefully, delicately, and
with utmost protection.

"Holy shit." I hear him mumble. "She came

back?" He's as surprised as I was to see her back in
Crescent Ridge.

I nod and use the handle bar to help pull myself

back up. I prop my hands on my hips and turn to
look at Carter. "She did."

His eyes widen as he waits for me to tell him

more, only there's nothing else to tell. "And?" He
tosses the dirty towel onto a pile of other dirty
towels that need to be washed.

"And what?” I retort. “She's back. Her mom is

sick. End of story."

"Have you talked to her?"
I puff air loudly through my nose and smirk. "I

hardly think Frankie will be up for catching up.
What happened in the past stays there. We've both
moved on," I lie to him. I'll never move on from
her, but he doesn't need to know that.

Carter has been my best friend since

elementary school. Actually, Frankie was my best

friend. Carter was next in line, but he fell right into
first place when I hurt Frankie and she left.

"You haven't moved on, man." He slaps my

shoulder and squints his dark brown eyes at me.
"You're lying to yourself if that's what you believe.
She may have moved on, but you, my friend…you
have not moved on."

"Fuck off," I grumble, raking my hands over my

face in frustration.

Clearing his throat, he toes a crack in the garage

floor with his work boot. "Maybe you should come
clean. Tell her the truth. Get that shit off your
conscience." He raises his eyes at me, and I shoot
him a dirty look.

Come clean? That's the last thing I'll be doing. I

scoff, "Let it go, man. Some things are best left in
the past."

He groans in frustration. "Why did you let her

believe you were with Whitney?"

I see his feet retreat a few feet back, probably

afraid of what my response will be. I take a deep
breath and look up at him. "Because I needed her
to go, Carter. She would’ve thrown her life, her
career, her education away for me." My voice
breaks, and I clear my throat to shove down my
emotions.

"You could have just broken up with her ya'

know. You didn't have to make her believe you
were cheating on her, or that Whitney's baby was

yours." He takes a deep breath, eyeing me
carefully, knowing he's gone too far. He's wanted to
call me on my shit for ten years and right now, I'm
weak enough to let him.

I twist the throttle on the motorcycle, finding

something to fidget with. "She would have come
back here. She wasn't for a second going to just let
me break up with her…that's not how Frankie and I
were."

"You need to talk to her."
"No can do." I turn back to the rusty foot peg.
He shakes his head and strides over to the

fridge we keep in the old shop, pulling out a cold
bottle of water. "I'm just saying you may never see
her again, Cole. Don't let this opportunity slip past
you. It's rare in life that we get an opportunity to
right our wrongs." He shoots me a disgusted look
and leaves the garage. A look I wholeheartedly
deserve.

I kick a wrench that's lying on the ground and

feel the anger I've buried for so long bubble to the
surface. "Let it go," I tell myself. "Let her go."

***
Hours later and feeling no better than I did

when Carter left, I slam the large rolling garage
door down. It makes a thunderous sound when it
meets the concrete drive. I engage the lock and
head back to my Jeep, starting it and revving the
engine. I engage the clutch and push the gas a little

too hard, causing the Jeep to lurch forward. Just as
I near the street, I catch something in the corner of
my eye. I slam on the brakes and the tires squeal.

What the hell!
"Would you lookout!" I yell as Maggie

Winthrop rolls by on her skateboard.

Maggie Winthrop is Frankie's niece, Faith's

daughter, and a dead ringer for Frankie at nine
years old. She narrows her blue eyes at me and
hops off her skateboard before turning back to
glare at me.

"Why don't you slow down!" she hollers back

and adjusts the baseball cap that's turned backward
on her head.

"You're a pain in the ass, Mags!" I holler at her

before easing the Jeep onto the road.

"Back at you, Ryan!" She rolls her eyes at me

and then hops back on her skateboard.

When Faith Winthrop moved back to town

after her divorce, I was certain I'd hear from her.
I've been waiting for the riot act—only it's never
come. She was always Frankie's protector…but
she's never spoken a word to me in the three years
she's been back in Crescent Ridge. I catch her nasty
glares and dirty looks in passing, but she's never
once confronted me about what happened between
Frankie and me.

Maggie, on the other hand, is never short on

words. I often see her at her Grandma's house

across the street, and she's always offering me the
latest insult or jab—reminding me so fondly of
Frankie from the past. Maggie is complex, much
like Frankie was. She's a Tomboy, a ballet dancer,
and a swimmer. She's talented and multi-
dimensional, just like her aunt Frankie, and I find
all of her qualities, including her smartass mouth,
endearing—though I'd never admit that to her.

My stomach lurches as I roll into our cul-de-sac

and park my Jeep in the driveway. I take a chance
and peer through my rearview mirror at the house
behind me, hoping to catch another glance of
Frankie. When I don’t see her, I hop down from the
Jeep and walk toward the front porch of my house.
A moment later, I hear the screen door across the
street squeal before closing with a bang.

My feet feel like bricks as they come to an

abrupt stop and I turn around. My lungs release the
air I was holding and my stomach settles when I see
the nurse I hired to care for Martha. She offers me
a short wave as she walks down the driveway to
her car parked on the street. I jog down to meet her,
anxious for an update on Martha and anything she'll
willingly tell me about Frankie.

I approach and she offers me a kind smile. "Mr.

Ryan," she says, her voice soft and comforting.
"Frances made it home late last night."

I nod and stand with my hands on my hips, one

eye carefully trained on the house behind her in

case Frankie appears.

"Martha is up and Melinda is preparing her

breakfast,” she continues. “She was so happy to see
her daughter. Melinda will walk Faith and Frances
through our afternoon care routine."

"Good," I tell her as she juggles her car keys in

her hand.

"I'll be back again this evening and will make

sure to update you immediately if anything changes
with Ms. Callaway."

"That sounds great. Thank you again for your

help." I smile at her as she opens her car door and
tosses her purse on the passenger seat.

"Oh," Judy says, turning back to me and

wringing her hands together nervously. "Ms.
Callaway…I mean Frances," she corrects herself,
"asked for billing to be transferred to her— "

I shake my head quickly, cutting her off. "Nope.

Our agreement remains intact. I'll continue picking
up the costs for her care until I determine that it
should be transferred.” I quickly add, “No need to
argue with Frankie about it, just don't transfer it."

Judy sighs loudly but doesn't argue with me.

"Yes, sir," she says quietly and slides into the
driver’s seat of her Nissan Sentra.

I wave to her as she drives off, and I cross back

to my side of the street where I belong. Far away
from Frankie.

There are very few things I can do to ever

rectify what I did to Frankie. Even though she's
moved on and is some big-time lawyer in Los
Angeles, this is something I can do to help clear my
guilty conscience.

Chapter 4

FRANKIE

SIT

on the edge of the bed and hold Mama's hand.

She’s trying to smile at me through the tears
glistening in her eyes. Only one side of her mouth is
turned up; the other won't move, but I'm able to see
through the tears at the sheer happiness in her
bright blue eyes.

"Frankie," she mumbles, her speech slurred. It's

hard to see my mom like this, but it's even harder to
see how much she's aged in the last five years since
I've seen her. I give her soft hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'm here. I'll be here to help Judy and Melinda

as long as they need me." I offer her a reassuring
smile. "And Faith and the kids are home now, too.
We're all here."

She visibly relaxes and nods, closing her eyes

and laying her head back against her pillow. I rub
her hand softly as it sits in mine, but I swallow hard

as I feel how frail her fingers have become.

There's a soft knock on the door and Melinda,

the day nurse, peeks inside. "I've got breakfast if
she's ready." Mom opens her eyes at the sound of
Melinda's voice.

"Yes, please come in." I raise the back of

Mom's bed slowly so that she sits more upright, and
Melinda sets a tray of food on the side table.

"Morning, Martha," Melinda greets Mom with a

friendly smile. I'm so thankful to see the
relationship between my mom and Melinda is so
comfortable. "We've got oatmeal and blueberries
for breakfast…and of course, your coffee." She
laughs softly. Turning to me, she tells me how Mom
demands coffee before any other food or beverage.
That sounds exactly like my mom, and it brings me
comfort that the stroke hasn’t changed who she is.

For the next twenty minutes, Melinda feeds her

and talks me through what to do and how to do it.
The key is small bites and smashing the blueberries
gently before feeding her. Mom struggles but
manages to eat without choking, which is the goal.

"When Faith gets here, I'll show you how to

help her clean up."

"I can do it," Mom mumbles and rolls her eyes.

While difficult to understand, she still does pretty
well.

"Martha, we know you can." Melinda smiles at

her, but shoots me an unnerving look. "But your

left side is still very weak and your balance is off.
One of us has to be in the bathroom with you to
help you wash up and also wash your hair."

Mom rolls her eyes again, and I can't help but

giggle under my breath. She's still feisty and
fighting for her independence.

"Where is everyone?" I hear Faith holler before

the front porch door slams. Some things never
change.

"I'll go get her," Melinda says kindly, patting me

on the shoulder. She takes the empty food tray with
her, disappearing down the hallway.

"There you are," Faith huffs as she steps inside

Mom's room, dropping her purse to the floor. "Oh,
Mama!" Faith says, covering her mouth with both
hands. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here." Mom shakes her
head slowly and Faith leans over her, pulling her
into a firm hug. "I'm so sorry, Mama," she whispers.

"Franny," Faith says quietly, letting go of Mom

and walking over to me. "God, I've missed you."
She hugs me tightly and rubs my back. Tears prick
the back of my eyes as we embrace. Aside from
Cole, Faith was my best friend growing up and still
is even though she is older than me. We survived
our fair share of sisterly fights and came out
stronger than ever.

"Well, now that I have all three of you in one

place, I hope we can go over care plans," Melinda
says, cutting off my reunion with Faith as she

comes back to the room carrying a large binder.

I pat my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt and

Faith smiles at me.

"Judy and I have been doing this for years. This

binder here," Melinda taps the top of the thick
white binder with her pointer finger, "is your new
bible. Study it. Learn it." She looks over the top of
her glasses that are perched on the end of her nose.
"I guarantee you, ninety-nine percent of what you'll
need to know is in this binder."

For the next hour, Melinda schools us in Mom's

care. She even has daily, weekly, and monthly
schedules in the binder with the days and times of
the various physical and occupational therapists
that will be coming to help Mom. Faith looks at me
from where she sits at the end of Mom's bed. Her
wide eyes have a panicked look, and I can tell she's
completely overwhelmed.

"Now let's get her cleaned up!" Melinda slams

the binder shut, and Faith gets Mom's walker from
the corner. We all follow her slowly but closely as
Mom struggles to walk. Her left leg has extremely
limited movement, so she kind of hops on her right
leg and balances herself with her walker, which
scares the hell out of me.

With four of us squeezed into a bathroom made

to fit one, we help Mom get cleaned up, much to
her frustration. Once she’s settled back into bed to
rest for the afternoon, Melinda shoos Faith and I

out of the house. I assume she's had enough of me
asking a million questions and Faith gasping and
getting emotional every two minutes.

"I've got that neighbor girl, Jenny, watching the

kids, do you want to go to the diner and get some
coffee?" Faith asks, grabbing her purse. "I'm sure
everyone there wants an update on Mom, anyway.
We can kill two birds with one stone." She shrugs.

"Do they still make that apple pie?" I ask as my

mouth begins to water, remembering the warm
apples and perfectly sugared crust I used to eat as a
young girl. Mom used to bring a slice home every
now and then when her tips were good, and Faith
and I would devour it.

"Damn right they do, but I'm not sharing a piece

with you." She smirks. "You're the hot shot attorney
who can afford to buy me a piece of pie now." She
laughs and nudges me with her shoulder.

"I suppose you want me to drive, too?" I raise

an eyebrow at her.

"You know it. Show me that fancy car of

yours." She smiles at me. God, I've missed my
sister.

We slide into my Mercedes and head into town

—and by town, I mean the city block that holds
every business in Crescent Ridge.

"How's Ted?" Faith asks as she fidgets with the

seat belt. I almost laugh that she's buckling herself
in. There's probably only five other people out and

about in town right now, the chances of us being hit
by lightning are probably greater than us getting
into a car accident.

"He's good. Patient with me," I sigh.
"Are you still nervous about committing?"
I wince at that question. "It's not committing

that makes me nervous, it's just—"

She puts up her hand to stop me. "You've had a

shitty past, Franny. No need to explain. You've still
managed to come out on top, though, so don't beat
yourself up, and don't let Ted pressure you into
something you're not ready for." She eyes me
cautiously.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Faith." My

voice breaks as I look at my sister.

She reaches out and squeezes my arm as we

turn down Main Street. "Hey, turn here!" Faith yells
suddenly, and I hit the brakes, cranking the steering
wheel hard to the right. "You haven't seen this yet,"
she says, leaning forward. "Now turn left."

I ease the car down First Street, a street that

used to be nothing but abandoned buildings from
businesses that lost their way. This street looks like
it's being revitalized, a handful of buildings having
been updated.

"I never thought I'd see the day," I mumble

under my breath as I drive slowly down the street.
Many of the exposed brick buildings have been
modernized and updated.

"I know," she says with the same awe. "There's

even a new little coffee shop with a bakery down
there." She points straight ahead out the window.
"Gus was pissed as all hell when they opened, and
Mom was worried they'd take all the breakfast
business from the café, but it hasn't affected the
café at all."

"Interesting. I was sure this place would be a

ghost town by now," I remark as we pass the coffee
shop.

"I was certain, too, but that's not the case." She

blows a puff of air from her mouth. "See that
building on the end?" She nods her head toward the
large red brick building with construction activity.
"That's going to be a bar and grill. Only open late
afternoons and weekends, catering more to the
dinner and bar crowd. I heard a rumor that whoever
was opening it was careful not to interfere with Gus
and the diner."

I stare ahead in disbelief as I watch the little

town that had all but died now rise from the ashes
before me.

As we get settled into a booth, two cups of

piping hot coffee appear, along with a bear hug
from Gus. His arms are tight and his embrace so
mighty he lifts me from my seat.

"How's your mom?" he asks, squeezing the air

right out of my lungs.

Gus has to be approaching seventy, and he’s

owned this diner since I was a little girl. He hired
Mama when Dad left, and he's been a constant
source of support for her. When she had no money,
he hired her. When we had no food, he fed us.
When she needed extra hours, he let Faith and I do
our homework in the back corner booth while Mom
picked up an extra shift.

"She's good, Gus. Getting better. It's so good to

see you," I manage as I catch my breath.

He finally releases me, dropping me back in the

booth. Shaking a finger at me, he scolds me,
"Franny, we've missed you. Your mama was a
wreck when you left." He shakes his head and tsks.

"Gus," Faith warns him with a stern look.
"Someone needs to tell her," he fires back

grumpily.

"It's okay." I lay a hand on the table in front of

Faith to shush her. "I know it was hard on Mama
when I left, Gus. But sometimes we need to leave
and not look back," I say quietly, feeling guilty for
leaving a few people that I cared about behind
without an explanation.

I look up at burly old Gus and shoot him a

sympathetic smile while he just watches me,
looking for an apology that I can't give him.
Instead, I try to lighten the mood.

"Got any of that famous apple pie of yours?" I

ask with a smile. "You know it was always my
favorite."

He sighs and nods before walking away without

another word.

"Is everyone going to be like this?" I ask Faith

cautiously, leaning across the table.

She blows steam off her coffee and shrugs.

"Don't know, but I sure as shit wouldn't worry
about it. The only people that matter are Mom and
me. Don't worry about anyone else. This town and
Cole Ryan were nothing but a dead end for you.
Look what you've made of yourself. Be proud."
She smiles at me and sets her coffee cup down.

The sound of Cole's name falling off Faith's

tongue brings up emotions I'm not ready to deal
with. I swallow hard and take a sip of the black
coffee, avoiding having to respond.

"How are Maggie and Matthew?" I ask, feeling

guilty. It's hard to see my niece and nephew without
seeing my past.

"They're so good. Thank you for always making

sure they're taken care of." I wave a hand,
dismissing Faith's comment.

"I love them so much. Anything I can do to help

you—"

"Franny," Faith says softly. "It's okay to love

them and still hurt for your own loss."

I nod quickly and choke back my emotions.

This is the first time Faith and I have really talked
about my niece and nephew and the pain seeing
them causes me. I pinch my eyes closed, pushing

back the sudden rush of tears. Our conversation is
cut short when the little bell above the diner door
chimes just as someone says loudly, "Well, well,
well…look what the cat dragged in!"

Denim legs stop at the end of our booth, but I

keep my eyes fixed across the table on Faith.

"What's up, Carter?" Faith asks with an

annoyed tone, and I do my best to hide the smirk
on my face as I hide it behind my coffee cup.

He's the same playful character he was ten

years ago when I last saw him. "Aren't you going to
say hi, Franny? Or are you too good for us now that
you're some hot shot lawyer in L.A.?" He drags out
the L.A. part.

My back stiffens and I sit up taller, squaring my

shoulders and turning to face Carter. "Nice to see
you, Carter. I see some things haven't changed."

Carter always hated that Cole and I were

inseparable as kids. He was always second fiddle to
me and it drove him nuts. He would find any reason
to pick on me, mostly for me being a straight A
student, a real nerd in his eyes. Cole finally
knocked the shit out of him in eighth grade, and he
resigned himself to the fact that Cole would always
choose me over him and he finally backed off.
However, with how things ended with me and Cole,
I'm sure he's been waiting years to pick back up
where he left off in eighth grade.

He feigns offense. "Haven't changed? Ah,

Franny, you hurt me!" He smacks his chest right
over his heart with his hand. "I was joking, but in
all honesty, it's really good to see you," he says
warmly, looking down on us. "You've made a good
name for yourself, you should be proud of yourself,
I know I'm proud of you. Someone from Crescent
Ridge needed to make it big."

I'd almost believe his words if I didn't know him

better, except I do know him and, in all honesty, he
does seem sincere.

"Thanks." I manage to say without rolling my

eyes.

"How's your mama?" he asks, leaning up

against the table of our booth; he shows no sign of
leaving anytime soon. I look over my shoulder at
the glass door of the diner, wondering if Cole is
with him.

"She's doing the best she can," Faith jumps in,

answering for me. "Thanks for asking. Franny and I
were just catching up, so if you don't mind…"

"Are you giving me the brush off?" he asks us

both with a little laugh.

"Yes!" Faith says, rolling her eyes. "And you're

terrible at picking up social cues, Carter. You really
need to work on that."

I stifle a laugh, damn near choking on my

coffee.

Carter narrows his eyes at Faith. "Just wanted

to say hi to an old friend,” he says, narrowing his

eyes at Faith, then turns back to me. “How long
you in town for, Franny? Maybe we can catch up
another time."

"Highly doubtful," Faith pipes in again before I

stop her with a look. Jesus, she's feisty today.

I clear my throat and tell him, "I'm not sure. I

need to make sure everything is settled with my
mom and that she's being taken care of before I
make any decisions on when to leave. But, Carter,
you and I both know catching up probably isn't a
good idea." I deliver the blow kindly, and it actually
hurts my heart to blow him off. We spent a lot of
time together—a lot of good times—in high school.
I'm glad he's still around for Cole. Not that I should
give two shits about Cole, but I do. I always will,
undoubtedly.

He nods in understanding, his hands propped on

his hips. "Franny, I know shit was bad when you
left, but—"

I stop him right there. "We're not talking about

this, Carter, okay? I just came to get some coffee
and pie with my sister. The past is done. There's
nothing to discuss." My voice breaks, and I can feel
tears stinging the back of my throat.

He sees my emotions and takes a deep breath,

pulling his lips between his teeth as he watches me.
His dark brown eyes narrow ever so slightly on me,
not in anger but with something else. Understanding
maybe? He leans forward and lowers his voice,

"There's a lot of things you don't know, Franny. A
lot of answers that you deserve—"

My hearts races and part of me wants to know

what he has to say, but I'm not ready to unbury the
past. "Carter," I stop him. "Please."

He raises his hands in surrender as he backs

away. "I'm just saying there's a lot of shit that needs
to be cleared up."

I shake my head softly. "What's done is done.

We all need to move forward now. Goodbye,
Carter," I say gently, offering him a sad smile as he
throws an arm up in defeat and disappears through
the doors he just came through minutes ago.

Gus stayed back, eyeing our little reunion. Now

that Carter left, he finally drops off two plates of
apple pie and tops off our coffee as Faith watches
me quietly from across the table. When Gus leaves,
she lets out a heavy sigh and pushes her plate to the
side.

"What do you think he meant by ‘things you

don't know’, Franny?"

I shrug. "I don't know, and honestly, I don't

care. My focus is getting mom better so I can get
the hell out of here and never look back." Again.

Want more of Frankie and Cole?

Read On

ABOUT A.L. JACKSON

A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling
author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-
filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.

If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool

with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with
her nose buried in a book.

Watch for LEAD ME HOME, the third novel in the bestselling

Fight For Me series, coming May 7th 2018.

@aljacksonauthor

aljacksonauthor

ABOUT REBECCA SHEA

Rebecca Shea is the USA Today Bestselling author of the
Unbreakable series (Unbreakable, Undone, and Unforgiven), the
Bound & Broken series (Broken by Lies and Bound by Lies), and
Dare Me . She lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her family. From the
time Rebecca could read she has had a passion for books. Rebecca
spends her days working full-time and her nights writing, bringing
stories to life. Born and raised in Minnesota, Rebecca moved to
Arizona in 1999 to escape the bitter winters. When not working or
writing, she can be found on the sidelines of her sons football games,
or watching her daughter at ballet class. Rebecca is fueled by insane
amounts of coffee, margaritas, Laffy Taffy (except the banana
ones), and happily ever afters.

https://app.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/d6b1h4

@beccasheaauthor

rebeccasheaauthor

www.rebeccasheaauthor.com

rebeccasheaauthor@gmail.com

ALSO BY A.L. JACKSON

Document Outline

Copyright
1. Kaylee
2. Paxton
3. Kaylee
4. Paxton
5. Kaylee
6. Paxton
7. Kaylee
8. Paxton
9. Kaylee
10. Paxton
11. Kaylee
12. Paxton
13. Kaylee
14. Paxton
15. Kaylee
16. Paxton
17. Kaylee
18. Paxton
19. Kaylee
Epilogue
Show Me the Way
- Prologue
- 1. Rynna
- 2. Rex
- 3. Rynna
- 4. Rex
- 5. Rynna
Fault Lines
- Prologue
- 1. Present Day
- 2. Frances
- 3. Cole
- 4. Frankie
About A.L. Jackson
About Rebecca Shea
Also by A.L. Jackson
Also by Rebecca Shea

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