Epilogue
Serena
Five Years Later
The crunch of gravel beneath tires signals Derek’s return from the firm. It’s half past five. Dinner’s in the oven, and the girls are running around the back yard, chasing butterflies and giggling.
Haven is an amazing big sister to Hadley, and the two of them are inseparable on the best of days. On the worst of days, they bicker like all sisters do, and it’s all we can do to keep from laughing.
He’s so good with them too. He understands them. And he’s patient and wise and tenderhearted. They’re just as lucky to call him their father as I am to call him my husband.
Derek is used to the girl fights, and judging by some of the stories he has about his younger sisters, I can see why.
Me, I love the noise. The chaos. The laughter. The tears. I wouldn’t trade it for anything because this—this is what life is really about.
My husband of four years strides across the lawn of our restored farmhouse, stopping to kiss sweet baby Harper in my arms before kissing the top of my head.
“Hello, my love,” I say. I’m incapable of frowning in his presence, because after all that has happened, Derek Rosewood is still my happiness.
No one has ever fought for me the way he has. He was there through it all. The ups and downs. He stuck by me after the claims against him were substantiated, and he never blamed me once when he received a private reprimand. He was cheering by my side when Veronica pled guilty at her trial and when the judge refused to honor her attorney’s request for a reduced prison sentence. Derek was also there when Veronica left my father after the trial, when she realized she wasn’t getting a single red penny from the estate, and he was there the day my father passed peacefully at a nearby hospice center.
We’re richer than sin. Our accounts are filled with hundreds of millions of dollars—which we intend on mostly giving away. But our love? This beautiful life we’ve created? It’s priceless.
“What’s for dinner?” he asks.
“Lasagna,” I say. “Bliss’s recipe. Demi and Royal are stopping by too. I told Kyla not to come by until after seven. I want Haven to have a good meal before her weekend with her mom.”
Shortly after Derek and I made things official, he pursued full custody of Haven and won. I’d never seen the Rosewoods so happy, but I think the happiest little soul was Haven. She belongs with Derek.
With both of us.
“Appreciated.” He smiles, staring at me like he just won the lottery. But it’s nothing new. He’s been doing it since the day he proposed to me at the Mariposa waterfall over four years ago.
“What?” I ask.
“Why are you so good to me?” Derek leans in, stealing a kiss. I’m sure I taste like red sauce and garlic, but he doesn’t complain.
“Daddy, Daddy!” My red-headed Mini-Me, Hadley, runs up to Derek, breathless, and wraps her three-year-old arms around his legs.
He sets his briefcase on the ground and scoops her up. Her little limbs wrap his neck and she kisses his cheek just as nine-year-old Haven pummels into his side, almost causing Derek to lose his footing.
“Hi, Daddy.” Haven hugs his side, and he ruffles her feathery blonde hair. “We missed you.”
“I missed you too, baby.” He pulls her close, his gaze returning to mine. “I missed all of you.”
“We love you, Daddy.” Haven brushes her face against his suit jacket, beaming a gap-toothed smile.
“I love you too,” he says. “Let’s head in. Go get washed up for dinner. Aunt Demi and Uncle Royal are going to be here soon.”
The sun sets early on this late autumn Friday, painting the sky in warm pinks and oranges and yellows. It wasn’t until I moved to the country that I earned a newfound appreciation for sunsets.
I’ve realized, over the past five years, that there were many things I’d missed out on in my life. The smell of rain on country grass. The burst of unobstructed sunlight filtering through shades early in the morning. Leisurely strolls and neighborly waves. Cooking delicious meals from scratch because it’s more convenient than ordering takeout from a trendy restaurant with a two-hour wait.
Derek’s arm hooks into my elbow, and he stops me to steal a quick kiss.
“I love you,” he whispers, his lips against mine.
“I love you more.”
The five of us file inside, where our snoring pug, Munch, sleeps in his bed by the fireplace. The kitchen is scented with my sweet mother-in-law’s lasagna, and the girls impatiently take their places as Derek gently places a very sleepy Harper in her bassinette.
Demi and Royal pull up just in time, and the girls leave the table and run to the door to greet them with giggles and squeals. They can hardly wrap their arms around Demi’s swelling belly with her due date just around the corner. They’re expecting a little boy any day now, and they’re planning to call him Beckett, and the girls have been having a blast picking out plush frogs and blue onesies for Demi’s baby shower next weekend.
The timer on the stove beeps, and I tend to dinner while everyone settles in.
This is my life now.
I’m in love with every beautiful, challenging, imperfect moment of it.
And I wouldn’t trade it for the entire world.
The End
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FILTHY
Rixton Falls Book 3
Part I
FILTHY
Copyright
COPYRIGHT 2016 WINTER RENSHAW
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
To the state of Florida. I know. Weird, right? It’s a second home to us, and it was while on vacation here that this story came to me. So my sunny Florida, this one’s for you.
Description
Filthy mouth. Dirty mind. Messy past. I’m no saint, and I hear my reputation precedes me, but you can’t believe everything people say.
I’ve made a living playing by the rules only when the clock is ticking, the ball has been snapped, and I’m cleat-deep in AstroTurf. But I screwed up last year. I went too far with the girls and the partying and the benders, and I created a PR sh*t storm for my team in the process. As a result, the team owner sentenced me to live in some gated, Floridian retirement village until I can “calm down.”
Football is my life, and I love my team. They’re the only family I’ve got anymore, so I’ll do what I have to do to stay where I am.
The rules are clear: no girls, less booze, zero publicity stunts. If I lay low and repair my reputation, I won’t get cut. It’s that simple. Everything was going well. For the first time in my life, I was living by someone else’s rules . . .
. . . and then *she* showed up for the summer.
My next door neighbor’s great niece is visiting, and it doesn’t take long for me to see Delilah Rosewood is the perfect mix of sexy and smart. She makes me want to break all the rules and draw every penalty just to get a taste. She’s all curves and opinions and bee-stung lips, and I’m all trying-to-do-everything-I-can-to-convince-her-to-give-me-t
he-time-of-day.
But there’s one problem: she hates me with the passion of a thousand Florida suns.
Chapter 1
Delilah
I’ve never been great at first impressions. And in the seconds before the front door opens, I’m well aware this isn’t going to go well for either of us.
But here I am anyway.
Standing at the door of my great aunt’s next door neighbor, dressed in polka-dotted lime-green pajamas, arms folded, lips ready to berate the asshole throwing a party at two in the morning on a Wednesday, I’m ready to do this.
My fist stings as I pound on the heavy wooden door. The Florida humidity is doing a number on the mess of dark hair sticking to my shoulders, and for all I know, remnants of yesterday’s mascara resides beneath my lower lashes, but glancing in the mirror on the way over here wasn’t exactly a priority.
All I want is some sleep.
The door swings open, and a man the size of a linebacker wearing a neon green button-down drinks me in with an unfocused stare.
“Here for the party?” he asks, expression fading when he realizes I’m standing here looking like a crazy person.
“Are you Zane?” My arms tuck tightly under my chest.
“No,” he says. “Zane’s inside.”
He motions for me to come in, and I hesitate before going for it. I didn’t climb out of bed at two in the morning for nothing.
The guy pauses as we stand across from one another beneath a chandelier in a grand, two-story foyer better suited for executives than party-boy ballers. He hooks his hands on his hips and drags in a long breath.
“You sure you’re not here for the party?” His gaze narrows.
I point to my pajamas. “Do I look like I’m here for the party?”
I mean, honestly.
He smooths a hand down his chest before lifting it in protest, and then he smirks. “All right. If you say so.”
Another guy walks past, his polo a shade of evergreen, contrasting against crisp white shorts.
“What’s with all the green?” I wrinkle my nose. Great Aunt Rue mentioned once that her neighbor played football. “Is this a team color or something?”
The guy covers his mouth, stifling a chuckle. “Wait here. I’ll find Zane.”
About damn time.
A woman wearing a skin-tight bandage dress the color of Santa Claus’ suit saunters past, giving me side eye before lifting her nose and linking onto the arm of a man with huge arms and a matching red button-down.
Red and green? In May?
“Hi.” A man’s voice vibrates against my ear from behind, and I turn to find a devilishly handsome man reeking of beer and wearing a smile a mile wide.
I move back until I run into the wall behind me, but he follows. Placing his hand on the wall over my shoulder, he lifts a brown bottle to his lips and takes a drink, his eyes trained on me.
“Haven’t seen you before. You just get here?” he asks.
“Are you Zane?”
“No.” He shakes his head, his tongue grazing his lower lip as if he fully believes he’s seconds from feasting on me. “I’m Kai Santana.”
He says his full name like it should mean something to me. I’m guessing by his build and the size of his biceps that he plays football with Zane.
Maybe in certain circles, his name opens doors. And drops panties. But right now, he’s just another drunk asshole thinking he’s smooth enough to rival Casanova.
“What’s your name?” He leans in closer, his aftershave burning my lungs.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant right now.”
Kai laughs. “You really came to a party like this, dressed like that, and you’re going to play hard to get? Un-fucking-believable.”
“I need to speak to Zane.”
Kai’s expression fades, and he glances over my shoulder, scanning a roomful of beautiful blondes, exotic brunettes, and fiery redheads. I follow his line of sight and see nothing but a sea of mostly green, a fair amount of red, and a handful of yellow.
Oh, god.
I’m at a stoplight party.
And I’m dressed in head-to-toe green.
“You don’t want Zane.” Kai turns back to me, moving his hand to the side of my face. His fingertips trace my jaw, and my entire body freezes. He’s completely invading my personal space, acting like he owns it, and my therapist-in-training monkey brain can’t conjure up the appropriate response to save my life. “Anything Zane can do, I can do better, angel face. Know that.”
My lips purse, rubbing together as I stare into Kai’s obnoxiously beautiful seafoam green gaze. I didn’t even know eyes could be a color like that. Removing my stare from his, I visually trace the length of his muscled, tatted arm before gripping it gently and guiding it away from my person.
I step out of his space, and judging by the frown that replaces his smug little smile, he takes the hint.
A clock on the other side of the foyer reads two fifteen. I know this house is over-the-top large, but it shouldn’t take this long for Ash to locate Zane. I’d be better off looking for him myself at this point . . . if only I knew what he looked like.
“Can you find Zane for me, please?” I zip my spine and force a positive tone into my voice.
Kai’s face darkens. He’s annoyed. His barreled chest rises and falls as he stares at me, takes another swig of beer, and releases a groan.
“Fucking Zane.” He shakes his head. “Find him your own damn self. I’m not his little bitch.”
I sense some contention there that I’m not in the mood to explore, so I let him walk away toward a throng of beautiful women dressed all in green.
“Excuse me.” A blond Hercules dressed in a t-shirt the color of sunbeams taps me on the shoulder.
Thank God. I’ve never been so happy to see someone in yellow in all my life.
“Hi.” A breathy sigh of relief passes through my lips. “Are you Zane?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I just heard you were looking for him. I saw him in the kitchen a minute ago.”
Hercules has kind eyes, and he keeps a safe distance from me. I feel immediately at ease in his presence already.
Glancing around, I return my stare to his. “I’ve never been here before. Can you point me that way?”
He nods and motions for me to follow him. As soon as we approach a packed crowd blocking the threshold to the backside of the house, he reaches for my hand and pulls me against him.
We make it through to the other side and step into a crowded kitchen. Beneath crumpled bags of chips and half-empty wine bottles, I spot a hint of white marble counters.
“He was here just a second ago.” Hercules drags a meaty hand through his sandy blond waves and exhales. “I’ll be back in a second. I’ll see if I can track him down for you.”
The kitchen is surprisingly vacant, though the sound of pumping music rattles against the windows in the breakfast nook. A string of party lights outside illuminates an expansive covered patio and in the distance, girls in green bikinis are lounging in pool floaties as a guy in yellow board shorts does a cannon ball.
I rise to my toes, attempting to see over the crowd of people blocking the doorway. Knowing my luck, Ash found Zane and led him to the foyer, but I can’t see that far anyway. I decide to stay put. Hercules seems a little more even-keeled than the other two anyway. I trust he’s going to do what he says.
An emerald-clad man and woman stumble into the kitchen, their hands gliding into dangerous territory and their lips fused together with sexual superglue.
It’s just the three of us, and it’s beyond painfully awkward for me, but I can’t leave in case Zane comes.
“Oh, my God, that feels amaaaaazing,” the girl pants, completely oblivious to my presence. “Oh . . . oh, yes . . .”
From the corner of my eye, I see his hand making quick movements between her thighs, and her fingers are wrapped loosely around a red Solo cup. She’s one earth-shattering orgasm from dropping it
and spilling it everywhere.
“God damn, you’re tight,” the guy breathes. “I’m packin’ down there, sweetheart. I don’t know if my cock will fit.”
She giggles and reaches for him, pulling him on top of her.
My cheeks warm, my legs threatening to run me right out of here if this goes any further. It feels wrong to be an accidental voyeur.
Without any warning, the guy sweeps his arm across the counter, sending half-filled cups and cans of beer flying, half of which spill down my top.
I pull in a sharp inhalation, cold beer soaking through my pajama top, and stand paralyzed, watching them take things to the next level mere feet away.
Hercules returns just in time to see the aftermath as the guy lifts his moaning girl toy up on the newly cleared counter.
“Hey, hey, hey.” My new friend storms to the couple. “Not in here. Take it somewhere else.” He returns to me, grabbing a rag from a nearby drawer and dabbing at my shirt. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I take it from him, opting to handle the clean up myself. “They were, um, really into what they were doing. I don’t even think they noticed me here.”
“Assholes. They’re not even associated with the team. Not sure how they got the invite.” He rolls his eyes, blowing a puff of air through tight lips. “How’d you get invited? Or are you here with someone?”
“I’m not here for the party.” I’m beginning to sound like a broken record. “I’m staying next door for the summer with my great aunt. I just came by to ask Zane if he could keep the noise down.”
God, I sound lame. Words like that should never leave the lips of a twenty-four year old, but someone needed to come over here, and it was either Rue or me. And a little old lady has no business wandering into a party like this at two in the morning.
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