I'll Catch You

by Lauren Milson

  About the Author

  I write sweet, smutty romance - the kind that you stay up past your bedtime to finish <3

  Get a FREE insta-love romance when you sign up for my mailing list! - http://eepurl.com/difde1

  I can't be held responsible if your Kindle sparks, melts, or combusts. I'm happy to take responsibility if the same happens to your clothes.

  Thank you for reading!

  xx, Lauren

  I’ll Catch You

  Lauren Milson

  Copyright © 2020 by Lauren Milson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Samantha West for KISS eBook Designs

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  About the Author

  I’ll Catch You

  1. Claire

  2. Peter

  3. Claire

  4. Peter

  5. Claire

  6. Peter

  7. Claire

  8. Peter

  9. Claire

  10. Peter

  11. Claire

  12. Peter

  13. Claire

  Epilogue - Peter

  Epilogue - Claire

  Her Friend’s Father

  1. Joanne

  Also by Lauren Milson

  I’ll Catch You

  I can buy anything - except the one woman I can’t live without. And now that I’ve found her, I will stop at nothing to catch her, claim her, and make her mine - forever.

  Claire

  I have something every man wants. A beautiful parcel of oceanfront property in Long Island, New York.

  But I won’t sell. I don’t need some rich guy from the city coming through here, knocking down my heritage, and ruining the neighborhood.

  Even if it would make me a millionaire overnight.

  The land is more important to me and my family than gobs of money could ever be.

  Instead, I’m happy with my modest little life: raising my niece, running my restaurant, and slamming the door in the face of every man who drives into town to give me an offer.

  Until Peter walks through the door, catches my eye, makes me feel things I never have before, and turns my life upside down with a single look.

  Peter

  As a wealthy real estate developer, I can buy anything I set my sights on. And right now I have eyes on an oceanfront property that houses a cute little restaurant.

  But when I meet the manager, she flips my world on its head.

  Sassy mouth. Killer curves.

  She’s meant to be mine, whether she comes with the land or not.

  But before I can start to build the life I’ve always wanted, I have to knock down a few walls.

  The ones around Claire’s heart.

  They’re there for a reason.

  But I will stop at nothing to claim her, win her, and make her mine - forever.

  “I’ll Catch You” is a high-heat instalove short read featuring a possessive older man, an innocent younger woman, and a sweet HEA guaranteed.

  Enjoy!

  xx, Lauren

  1

  Claire

  I watch as the man in the parking lot shuts his car door behind him, punctuating the warm evening, and his gaze snaps to mine. His dark brown eyes pin me to the floor as he walks toward my little failing restaurant.

  When he approaches the door, I can’t help myself. I should hate him. Instead, I’m imagining him striding toward me, grabbing me by the waist, cruising a hand up the back of my neck, and pulling me toward him with a possessive, bruising kiss.

  His lips capture mine. His hands roam over my curves and he lifts me easily to sit me on the counter. My knees spread apart on either side of his legs and he takes my face in his hands, trailing his thumb from behind my ear to the hollow of my throat. My fingers come to his broad chest, knotting against his crisp white shirt as he blinds me with the pressure of his arms wrapping me up safe and sound.

  My heartbeat becomes more rapid and a cage of butterflies opens up in my belly, tickling every inch of me. A ripple of desire pools in me and then explodes. He kisses me with ravenous, blind hunger. He whispers things in my ear. His warmth makes me feel secure. His touch knocks me off balance.

  I avert my gaze to go back to drying the mug in my hands. It slips through my fingers and flies to the floor, shattering on impact.

  “Dammit,” I mutter, squatting to the floor to pick up the broken porcelain. The restaurant is hemorrhaging money. I can’t even afford to replace this mug.

  “Get your head out of the clouds, Claire! We have a customer!” Cassie squeals next to me. She rushes around the counter and grabs a menu, nearly knocking over the hostess stand to get to the door.

  “Don’t look so desperate,” I shout-whisper at her, pulling myself back to reality. “He’s going to think there’s something wrong with the fish and go someplace else.” At this point I’m doing the math in my head to figure out if the check from this customer is going to cover keeping the lights on for another hour. Before I spotted him, I was considering closing up early.

  He’s the most downright handsome and beautiful man I’ve ever been in a twenty-mile radius of, and I already know that I have to hate him. He’s from the city, he has money, and he’s not here for the cornbread. He’s here to ask if I want to sell. He should have called instead. He could have saved the gas money and the three-hour drive. I’m not selling. Not until the electric company comes and shuts off the lights. No. Even then, I’m not selling. I’ll use candles. I’ll host mice fights in the back of the kitchen and run an illegal gambling ring before I’d sell. No. Ew. We don’t have mice and we never will.

  Cassie looks over and gives me a big smile and two thumbs way up. I march around the counter and pat my niece on the head as I go over to snatch the menu from Cassie.

  “I got this one,” I tell her.

  “I need the tip,” she says, pulling the menu back from me. Then she looks through the door again. “Woah.”

  The bells chime over the door as the man steps inside. He’s tall, well over six feet, and I feel a warm flush sweep over me again as his eyes find mine. He’s older than me and Cassie, probably in his late thirties, and he smells amazing. His deep, dark brown eyes nearly stop me in my tracks and the stubble on his face looks nice and good for running my fingers over to see how bad he’ll prick me. His lips are soft and his nose has the slightest crook in it, giving instant character to his otherwise-perfect bone structure.

  “Table for one?” I ask, and he nods his head and follows me to a booth. When he sits down, his gaze lingers at my chest for a second before he clears his throat and takes the menu from me. “Can I get you started with something to drink?”

  “Sure,” he says, flipping over the single-page laminate. “I’ll take whatever local you have on tap. What’s your guys’ special here?”

  I take the menu from him and feel his gaze drift to my hand. I put the menu down and point to the name of the restaurant.

  “Fish and chips,” I tell him as though it weren’t obvious. I jerk the menu away from him and start back to the kitchen.

  “Hey,” he protests, “I was still looking at that.”

  I know how these guys are. Call me prejudiced. I am. Call it unfair. It isn’t. If he’s here to try to buy this place, it’s to tear it down and build ocean-view condos. More people means more cars, more pollution, more noise, more of everything bad and lower quality of life for the people who have this place in their DNA. He’s the definition of everything that’s wrong with the world. He wa
nts to sweep into town with his money and tear down my heritage to make room for something better. Even though the money could really help me out, I would be giving up too much in exchange for it. I won’t sell. Not until I have to.

  “Do you want the fish and chips or not?” I holler over my shoulder.

  “Yes, I do,” he calls back to me.

  “Okay then.”

  “Fine.”

  Cassie is already back here in the kitchen washing her hands to prep this guy’s food. I pour him a pint of the local ale and grab a bottle of vinegar to bring out to him.

  “Here you are,” I say, dropping the items on the table. His gaze settles against me again and I can feel it everywhere. I can’t help that I’m attracted to him. Insanely, white-hot, can’t-stand-it attracted to him. It’s an involuntary physiological response.

  “Excuse me,” he says after me. I back up and wipe my hands on my apron. He glances at my name tag. “Claire. I’d like to talk to your manager, please.”

  I huff out a breath and put my hands on my hips.

  “I am the manager.”

  “Then can I talk to the owner?” His lips are turned down but there’s a lightness in his voice. One that makes me feel bad for being so mean to him. I soften myself up and brush my hands on the front of my apron, this time with far less vigor. This man isn’t bad. He’s just doing his job. I can reject him without taking my annoyance out on him.

  “The owner is the little girl sitting at the booth behind me. And I’ve already been a bad example to her by being so mean to you, so please accept my apology.” I take a brief pause. “Any business matters can go through me.”

  He shoots me a puzzled look.

  “She’s technically the owner because the former owner named her as the successor, but until she’s old enough I’m her custodian.”

  “Is she your daughter?” he asks, peeking around me. The best part of him being here is the distraction from the boredom, but since he’s only ordering for one, I think it may have been a better financial decision to lock the door in his face and turn off all the lights.

  “No, my niece,” I reply. I don’t need to give this guy my entire life story. I don’t like it when people ask a lot of questions about me and Brynn. I check my attitude. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “No,” he says with a slight purse to his lips and a little contrition in his voice. Maybe he was a little salty to me just like I was to him. “I’m okay for now. Thank you. I’m Peter, by the way.”

  “Peter. Okay,” I reply. I tap a finger on the edge of the table and make my way back to the kitchen.

  Even though he’s a welcome respite from the boredom, he’ll remain right there. A respite. A temporary interlocutor. I let a little smile play on my lips in spite of myself. I can’t help it.

  2

  Peter

  My new girlfriend and I just survived our first fight.

  “This was superb,” I tell her as she approaches me. The sun is setting outside and painting her with the yellow and orange hues of the sunset. Her curvy little figure is shown off to the max in the little black shorts and white tee she’s wearing, and her black curls are piled on her head in a messy bun. Her high cheekbones and wide-set eyes are gorgeous. She’s the downright sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, she’s a hard worker, she’s principled, and she’s a fierce defender of the people she loves. She also hates me.

  I hand her my plate and take out my wallet before she has a chance to drop the check. I put a bill on the table and when she sees it her eyes protest.

  “I don’t need your charity,” she says, pushing the bill away. “A twenty percent gratuity is fine.”

  “After the way you talked to me, you think you’re getting a tip?”

  She just stares at me. Death stare. I like it.

  “I know why you’re here.” She softens. “I’m not interested in selling. I’m sorry you wasted your time coming all the way out here.”

  “It wasn’t a waste of time,” I tell her, putting my hand over hers. She pulls her hand away. Maybe the touch crossed the line. I’m not used to women not liking me. I think she might be the only one who hasn’t instantly tried to sit on my lap. If I didn’t already like her as much as someone could like another human being they just met, the fact that she doesn’t like me is making me like her even more.

  “Thank you for stopping by,” she says. “I hope you enjoyed everything.”

  “Wait,” I say before she can walk away. “You’re right, I’m here because I’m interested in the property. Just go out with me once and hear what I have to say. I don’t want to tear this place down. I know you’ve probably had a lot of offers but mine is different. Just have dinner with me once and let me make my case.”

  She pauses and her gaze snaps to mine. When I think I’m making some progress, she shakes her head, making her glossy curls shake. I might want to own her land, but I’d like to own her lips, too.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. She slides in across from me. “You’re right. I’ve had offers before. And I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but my decision is firm. I don’t want to sell. I’ll be honest because you seem like a nice enough guy. I don’t like when people try to convince me once my mind is made up, so any further attempts will probably just push me even farther into my decision.”

  “Can I just take you out to dinner, then?”

  She bites her lower lip and I can see that she’s contemplating it. Even if I back off any talk about her property, I know she’s going to think it’s in the back of my mind if I take her out. By walking in here alone and driving here unannounced in my Benz, I’ve made her assume certain things about me. She isn’t wrong. Everything she thinks of me is correct. Well, almost everything.

  “I’m sorry,” she replies. “I’m really busy with the restaurant and I don’t really have time for much of a social life.”

  “No offense, but the restaurant doesn’t really seem all that busy.”

  She takes a look around as though she’s just been dropped here from another planet. She’s proving my point. Where are all the customers, if she’s in fact very busy? I study her expression but it’s hard to get a read on her. If she won’t go out with me, that’s one thing, but why not sell? This place is valuable, even if it isn’t profitable in its current state. She stands to make millions if she were to sell. It doesn’t make any sense not to, and the fact that she hasn’t sold yet is equal parts miracle and mystery.

  “I’m sorry,” she replies. I watch her lips as she speaks. She’s been through this all before, and she’s having none of it despite her initial consideration. “Like I said, you really do seem like a nice guy, but I can’t.”

  She stands as I reach out to shake her hand, her skin smooth and soft as I wrap my fingers around hers.

  “It was nice to meet you anyway,” I say.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” She pulls her hand away after an extra beat and I can see on her face that she feels it too. As if I’m asking for permission to take more, I stay planted in my seat until she turns to walk away.

  I wave goodbye to her employee, standing behind the counter the whole time I was eating and who’s now chewing on the end of a peppermint stick as she watches me intently. I go over to the hostess stand and grab one on my way out the door.

  “Those aren’t free,” Claire says after me.

  I chuckle to myself as I walk out the door and get into my car. Claire doesn’t know it, but I’m not driving back to the city tonight. If I weren’t already planning to stay in town for the next week, I’d find the nearest hotel and rent a room and stay here until I got her to at least entertain my offer.

  Or until I could get my hands on her curves, her lips against mine. Because I’m addicted to the chase, but I haven’t found the right woman yet. Or the right property. But I think Claire could be it, and her little shore-side restaurant might be the one.

  Claire Beacon is a catch, and if I’m not careful I think she just might capture
me and reel me in - hook, line and sinker.

  And it might just be exactly what I’ve been looking for. When I get into my car, I call up my brother, hit the speaker and put my phone in its cradle.

  “Hey brother,” he says.

  As I back out of the parking space at Crabby’s I sneak a glance over at Claire. Even from a distance she is making me hard. The slightest touch of our hands made me feel alive, more alive than I have in a very long time. This woman could be my ruin.

  “David, I have to tell you something.” I turn out of the parking lot and slow down a little to get a good look at Claire. She’s got her palms pressed to the window of her restaurant and she’s got me trapped in a death-stare. Her employee is next to her, sucking on her peppermint stick with a matching expression. I give them a little wave goodbye as I keep driving. The house I’ve rented is nearby and I’ve already committed the address to memory.

  “She already agreed to sell?” my brother asks me.

  “Nope,” I reply, “even better.” I want to tell him that I just met my future wife, but the feeling of having it be something only I know is exhilarating. I don’t want anyone to know until she knows, so I hit pause on my announcement. I just have a feeling about her. A good feeling. An addictive feeling. “The girl who manages the restaurant is really sweet and pretty. I just wanted to tell you I might have a date with her.”