There Goes My Heart

by Bella Andre

  THERE GOES MY HEART

  The Maine Sullivans

  Rory Sullivan and Zara Mirren

  Bella Andre

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Book

  A note from Bella

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Bella Andre Booklist

  About the Author

  THERE GOES MY HEART

  The Maine Sullivans

  Rory Sullivan and Zara Mirren

  © 2019 Bella Andre

  Sign up for Bella’s New Release Newsletter

  bella@bellaandre.com

  www.BellaAndre.com

  Bella on Twitter

  Bella on Facebook

  Rory Sullivan, a renowned artisan woodworker, has no plans to fall in love anytime soon. Especially not with Zara Mirren, who shares a converted warehouse space with him in Bar Harbor, Maine. While she is a brilliant maker—the eyeglasses frames she designs are practically works of art—everything else about her drives him bonkers. The way she’s always whistling cheesy pop songs off-key. The way her half-finished cups of coffee litter every available countertop. And especially the way he can’t take his eyes off her whenever she enters a room…or stop thinking about her after she leaves.

  Zara loves everything about her career—designing and manufacturing bright, fun glasses frames fulfills both the creative and technical sides of her brain. The only downside to coming to work is bumping into irritating, far-too-handsome-for-his-own-good Rory Sullivan…even if she secretly enjoys the zingers they throw at each other. On the plus side, thinking up new ways to torment Rory on a daily basis has helped Zara stop dwelling on the fact that her ex-boyfriend cheated on her with her stepsister.

  But when Zara learns that her ex and her stepsister have just become engaged, she’s doubly stunned by Rory’s suggestion that he go to the engagement party as her pretend boyfriend, in a one-night truce where they’ll be a team rather than adversaries. Only, when it turns out that the sparks between them disguise a deeper passion—and a bigger emotional connection—than either has ever known, will both Rory and Zara end up losing their hearts to the last person they could have imagined?

  A note from Bella

  There Goes My Heart is dedicated to girls with glasses!

  I have been wearing glasses since I was nine years old. I might not have looked cool in the oversized brown frames, but it meant that I could play tennis, read the chalkboard in class, and not trip over things when I walked.

  I’ve long wanted to write about a heroine who wears glasses—and a hero who thinks she’s even more beautiful while wearing them.

  Rory Sullivan is the perfect man for Zara Mirren. And not just because he loves chocolate cake as much as she does, but because when Zara needs him, he’ll do whatever he can to bring her joy.

  I hope you absolutely love Rory and Zara’s romance, set in beautiful Bar Harbor, Maine.

  If this is your first time reading about the Sullivans, you can easily read each book as a stand-alone—and there is a Sullivan family tree available on my website (www.bellaandre.com/sullivan-family-tree) so you can see how the books are connected!

  Happy reading,

  Bella Andre

  P.S. More stories about the Maine Sullivans are coming soon! Please be sure to sign up for my newsletter (bellaandre.com/newsletter) so that you don’t miss out on any new book announcements.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Zara Mirren couldn’t stop laughing. It was either that or cry. Or, better yet, not give a damn what her stepsister and ex-boyfriend did.

  Like, say, get engaged.

  Zara poured herself another glass of bubbly. So what if it was just before nine in the morning in Bar Harbor, Maine? It would soon be five p.m. in Helsinki, and that was good enough for her.

  She gulped her second drink so quickly that the bubbles barely had time to fizz on her tongue. Normally, she wasn’t much of a drinker and would have nursed a glass of Prosecco for a good hour. Today, however, she was glad to be a lightweight. The sooner she got flat-out drunk, the better.

  “Celebrating something?”

  Zara looked up to see Rory Sullivan leaning against the door frame of the communal kitchen. In his white T-shirt and well-worn jeans, he resembled a modern-day James Dean.

  It was just her luck that Rory would be here bright and early on a Friday morning to find her drowning her sorrows in a leftover bottle of bubbly from the open house their artists’ collective had held the previous weekend.

  Together with six other makers, Zara and Rory rented space in a converted warehouse a few miles outside of downtown. Zara got along well with everyone else in the building. Only Rory drove her crazy.

  She was pretty sure she drove him even crazier.

  Smiling at the thought, she topped up her glass, then brought it to her lips for another long glug. After she’d emptied it, she replied, “It’s another day in paradise. What’s not to celebrate?”

  Still leaning against the door frame, he looked out the window. “Blue skies and sunshine are definitely nice after all the rain we’ve been having,” he agreed before turning his gaze back to her. “Why don’t we go take a walk and enjoy it?”

  She snorted her response to this ridiculous question—the two of them had never willingly spent time alone together, unless they were arguing. The gesture knocked her glasses slightly askew, but she didn’t bother to right her specs. She was okay with everything going a little blurry today. “No, thanks.” She refilled her glass, lifting it toward him in a quasi-toast. “I’m happy here.”

  He moved closer, and unfortunately, she wasn’t drunk enough yet not to notice how good he smelled. Like fresh cedar wood. During the year she’d been working here, she’d found that no matter how sweaty he got while working in his furniture workshop, he never smelled bad. What’s more, his work was always brilliant.

  Damn him.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee and pulled a chair up to the table. “Care to share what you’re so over the moon about?”

  She got the sense he was choosing his words carefully, something he’d never done with her. With everyone else, he was charm personified. But when the two of them were talking—sparring, more likely—he took great pleasure in acting the devil.

  And if more often than not, he made her want to laugh…well, she wasn’t about to admit that anytime soon.

  Perhaps if her head hadn’t started to feel like it was going to lift up off her neck and float away, she might have been able to come up with a brilliant answer to his question. Instead, she found her mouth shaping the words, “My news is going to make your day.”

  He gave her a small smile, one that made her stomach feel fluttery. No, that had to be due t
o the Prosecco. Still, it didn’t help that he was sitting close enough for her to see the flecks of green in his blue eyes.

  “I can’t wait to hear it,” he said.

  Again, it seemed wisest to take another drink before speaking. When she put the empty glass down, it wobbled on its base and started to tip. Before she could get her hand to obey her brain’s instructions to reach for it, Rory had righted the glass.

  “My stepsister just got engaged,” she said. He raised an eyebrow, obviously waiting for her to explain why this wasn’t fantastic news. “To my ex-boyfriend.” His other eyebrow went up, but he remained silent, as though he knew instinctively that wasn’t the end of the story. “I found them in bed together a year ago.”

  That was when she had decided to leave Camden and move to Bar Harbor. Camden was too small a town—she kept running into the happy couple in the grocery store, and the coffee shop, and while filling her car with gas. Two weeks after she’d discovered their affair, she’d packed up her things and headed north.

  Rory didn’t look like he pitied her, thankfully, though he did note, “That sucks.”

  It did. Of course it did. But Zara had been down similar roads with her stepsister for fifteen years now, albeit on a less grand scale. She didn’t blame Brittany for being beautiful and fashionable and irresistible to all men everywhere. Instead, Zara tried to tell herself she was grateful that Brittany had helped her see Cameron’s true colors before she got in too deep. Now her stepsister was stuck with him. Good riddance.

  Besides, she’d been through far worse things than this. Her stepsister and her ex getting married would be a walk in the park compared to the loss of her mom when she was fourteen.

  Zara shrugged. “They’re good together. Better than he and I ever were. It’s no big deal.” At least, it wouldn’t be once she’d had more to drink.

  She reached for the bottle and turned it upside down over her glass. Her aim was no longer great, however, and were it not for the fact that the bottle was nearly empty, she would have drenched the table. She put it down and swiped her fingers through the small pool of sweet bubbles, licked them off, then held up her phone and waved it at Rory.

  “I got her text a few minutes before you showed up.” She squinted at the screen, rereading her stepsister’s words. “There’s a party too. Just a small gathering.” Zara almost laughed again. Nothing Brittany did was small. Apart from her waistline.

  “When is it?”

  Zara rested her chin on her hands. She couldn’t remember the last time her head had felt so heavy, like it was twice as big as it should be. What had Rory just asked? Oh yeah, the party details. “Tomorrow. They’re so excited, she said they can’t wait to celebrate with everyone.” Her stepsister had sent a selfie of Cameron kissing her while she held up a massive diamond ring to the camera.

  “Tomorrow works for me,” Rory told her.

  Zara’s eyes had been closing, but when his words finally sank into her brain, she goggled at him. “What do your Saturday plans have to do with me?”

  “I’m free to go with you.”

  Had he lost his mind? “I didn’t ask you to go with me.”

  He reached for the roll of paper towels on the counter behind him, his T-shirt riding up to expose a couple of inches of tanned skin, along with abdominal muscles that only made her goggle more.

  Gently, he lifted her arms, wiped up the Prosecco puddle beneath them, then said, “Going with me has got to be better than going alone.”

  On any normal day, she would have scoffed at that statement. But on one that had begun so awfully, she found herself seriously considering his proposition. She stared at him. “I suppose some people might think you’re attractive.”

  That got a low laugh out of him. “I’ve had my share of compliments over the years.”

  She rolled her eyes at his fake modesty. “And you’re not at all egotistical.” Her words dripped sarcasm.

  “Can’t blame a guy for letting you know you’re on the right track.”

  This time, she was the one huffing out a laugh. “Whatever.” She suddenly felt so loose-limbed and numb that she didn’t see the point in prolonging their conversation. “If you really want to come, I guess you’ll do.” She could barely keep her eyes open, but there was one more thing she needed him to know before she gave in to the urge to close them. “You’re going to like my stepsister. Everyone does. Brittany is really pretty. And perfect.”

  With that, Zara laid her head on the table and let sleep take her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  What the heck had he just done?

  Rory reached out to take Zara’s bright green glasses off, but though he had to nudge her to get the side of the frame out from between her cheek and arms, she just kept snoring.

  They’d worked together for a year, but he wouldn’t have said they were friends. On the contrary, most days they were barely civil.

  Case in point: He’d come to the kitchen to give her grief for parking in his space again. Having worked in the building the longest, Rory figured he’d earned the parking spot outside his workshop door. Plus, as a furniture maker, he usually had the heaviest supplies and tools to cart in and out of the building.

  Everyone else played by the rules, but Zara never seemed happier than when she was thwarting them—and especially him.

  The last thing he’d expected was to find her getting bombed on bubbly at nine in the morning. If someone had asked him for a one-word description of Zara Mirren, he would have said bulletproof.

  Today, she seemed anything but.

  The bare bones of her story were bad enough. He couldn’t imagine stealing one of his brothers’ girlfriends. The sibling code was crystal clear—if he, Brandon, Turner, or Hudson so much as looked at a woman, she was off-limits to the others. Family came first.

  Zara’s stepsister obviously didn’t feel the same way, not only having no compunction about cheating with Zara’s boyfriend—but about agreeing to marry him too. He supposed some people might somehow think that because they were now headed to the altar, “true love” had won out in the end and that all wrongs were now made right. But Rory didn’t see it like that at all.

  If anything, it only made their betrayal cut Zara deeper.

  It was why he’d impulsively offered to go with her to the engagement party. He didn’t have to be Zara’s best friend to hate the thought of a colleague wading into that shark tank on her own.

  And, not to toot his own horn, but he had it on good authority that he scrubbed up pretty well. It wouldn’t hurt to make her ex a little jealous after the nonsense the jerk had put Zara through—not only cheating on her, but with her stepsister.

  If some guy did something like this to one of Rory’s sisters…

  His hand fisted on the handle of his mug. No one deserved to be treated like dirt.

  Even if Zara was a total pain in the butt.

  And snored like a vacuum cleaner.

  A car door slammed in the parking lot as the other artists who rented space in the warehouse started to arrive. Rory might not be Zara’s bestie, but he knew enough to be absolutely certain that she would hate anyone else in the building seeing her like this. She didn’t just come across as bulletproof, she was also fiercely proud.

  What’s more, he would never forgive himself if something happened to her while she was drunk. Especially after what had happened with Chelsea last year…

  Forcing the thought back into the dark recesses of his mind, he put his hand on Zara’s shoulder and jostled her gently. “Hey there, sleepyhead. Why don’t I take you home so you can dry out in bed?”

  She opened one eye. “I always knew you wanted to get into my pants.”

  Her words were slurred enough that he almost couldn’t make them out. Nor could he hold back his laughter. “In your dreams.”

  “I was dreaming,” she grumbled, “until you woke me up.”

  Still laughing at the idea of wanting to get into her pants—the fact that he had been turned o
n when she’d licked bubbly off her fingers was surely down to his year of abstinence, rather than the fact that it was Zara doing the licking—he put one of her arms around his shoulders, slid his arm around her waist, and hoisted her up from the table.

  “Where do you live?” he asked.

  “None of your business.”

  Even when she was only half there, she was still a stubborn pain in the rear. It was pretty impressive, to be honest.

  “Then my place it is,” he said.

  He waited for her to exclaim in horror, but at this point she really was down for the count. He slid her glasses into his pocket, then lifted her into his arms to carry her out to his truck before anyone could catch sight of them.

  Thankfully, she woke up just enough to help him lift her into the passenger seat and buckle her in. But by the time he reversed out of the lot, she was leaning fully against him. Not wanting her to slide into the footwell, he put his arm around her and held her close as he headed toward his house.

  In a million years, he never would have seen any of this coming. Zara, he’d noticed at various warehouse events, wasn’t much of a drinker. It was how he’d known something must be wrong this morning. Had Zara truly been celebrating, it was far more likely she would have asked his sister Cassie to bring her those marmalade candies she loved so much. His sister was a marvel with sugar—but even he couldn’t stomach marmalades. Only someone as weird as Zara would like an equally weird candy.

  His house was on the shore, a lighthouse that had been in such a state of disrepair the State of Maine had nearly demolished it. Last year, his brother Brandon had mentioned it during Friday night dinner with the family, and Rory had known instantly he had to buy it. He’d needed to move somewhere he could be alone, where no one was close enough to drop by and ask him if he was okay when he felt like standing in the high tower and staring out into the rugged, swirling sea for hours on end.

  Since moving in, he’d been renovating the living quarters in his spare time. Though he wasn’t done, thus far he’d made good progress in the living room, kitchen, master bedroom, and bath. He’d also done the necessary work to make the lighthouse fully operational again—and he’d done operator training with the state, as well—so whenever a strong storm blew in, he stood watch in the tower the way a true lighthouse keeper would have.