Before the Rain
A Tempting Signs Novella
By
JoAnne Kenrick
Before the Rain
By: JoAnne Kenrick
Published by Fated Desires Publishing, LLC.
© 2015 JoAnne Kenrick
ISBN: 978-1-62322-210-9
Cover Art by Charity Hendry
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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
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Table of Contents
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks must go out to my sister and sister-in-law, and their friends, who helped clean up my ‘rusty’ Welsh. And to Kate, Kacey, and Kali. Thanks for being there for me. I wish for every author in the world to have friends as supportive as you. Perhaps one day, I’ll be able to repay your awesomeness in full.
To my very own Welsh hero, my husband. No matter if it’s Wales, England, or Scotland; Australia, America, or even Antarctica, I’m always home when I’m with you.
Before the Rain
Three fiancés in three years makes Zoe Chantilly’s relationship column for the Georgia Times her only semblance of commitment…that is until her dating advice takes a dive down the Suwannee and she’s fired.
Unemployed and single, she leaves the sweltering heat of the south and heads to the UK for a man-free break from life. The plan? Get with nature, write a novel, and be alone. Be very much alone. But nature has other plans for Zoe.
Navigating the backcountry roads of Wales seems just as complicated as her love life. A near-collision hones her desires in on Dylan Mostyn, a Leo seething with a raw prowess and macho magnetism the Aquarius in her can’t resist.
This Welshman is as arrogant as he is gorgeous. He’s also her landlord. The undeniable and thunderous attraction between them pinnacles during a karaoke duet at the village fete, but what starts as a no-strings fling quickly spirals toward dangerous ground.
Chapter One
Present Day, August 1, 2015
“Dwi’n caru ti,” he rasped in Welsh, rounding out his vowels and sharpening his Rs.
Uh-oh. Dylan Mostyn only slipped into his native language around Zoe when he was horny.
He entwined his fingers with hers, his gray stare fierce yet his touch gentle.
“Did you hear me, Chantilly?” he prodded, his voice low and gruff with his own brand of rustic charm and raw macho energy. “Dwi’n caru ti…I love you.”
Ah, heck, how was she supposed to resist him now?
Like a teenager about to get her first-ever kiss, she quivered, her knees knocking together.
Damn him for being so…so…so British. With his sexy accent and his Hugh Grant hair flop and Gerald Butler’s down and dirty swoon factor. And his dimples. Gah. If she wasn’t so weak-willed, she’d squeeze in one last wham-bam before heading back to the States.
Who was she kidding? A quickie wouldn’t sate her needs. Not anymore. What had Wales—what had Dylan—done to her? Love, a four-letter word she dreaded. In all her thirty-one years, she hadn’t truly loved anyone. Had she inadvertently fallen for him? Truly fallen for him? Like head-over-ass and giddy-in-love fallen for him?
Impossible.
“You can’t leave.” He edged her against the wall of the farm-style kitchen in the stone cottage, his chest pressing against hers. “Not yet.”
“Umm.” Between his hard body and a stone wall, Zoe dodged his lips by leaning to the left and pointing to the whistling kettle atop the gas stovetop. His masculine scent with subtle hints of amber and musk enveloped her and melted her a little more.
“Do you love me?”
The air seemed to thicken around her. She couldn’t breathe, and words jammed in her throat. Sucking oxygen deep into her lungs, filling her nostrils with his deliciously dangerous fragrance, she searched for an answer to his question. Did she love him?
All she managed to say was, “Coffee. I think I’ll make a coffee for the road.”
“Zoe, don’t you feel it too?” He moved her hand over his heart and placed his on hers. “We’re connected. I know you sense we’re meant to be. I see it in your eyes.”
He kissed her, his lips soft on hers as he paused for her response. She tried to resist, tried to stand strong. Instincts took hold. Heat swooshed through her and flipped her insides. Her stomach fluttered, and her heart hammered hard. She sensed something all right, maybe love.
“Hmm, if you only knew the things you stirred in me.” His husky voice, so deliciously dark, sent prickles over her neck. He swept her hair behind her ear and continued his seduction. “You bring me to life, you do.” He slid a hand to her lower back and caressed her cheek with the other. “My whole body is on fire.” His kisses deepened, and he teased her tongue with his.
Caressing the length of her back, he let out a gruff sound, a purr almost. A soft, unbidden moan escaped her, and she melted further into him with every passing second spent wrapped in his embrace. She drew closer against him, although internally she fought to pull back.
Lust wasn’t the only thing engulfing her. She knew every crevice of Dylan Mostyn’s passionate being, and his kindness and compassion were all she’d ever dreamed of in a life partner.
Darn it.
Her bruised heart skipped a beat, but she reminded herself of her track record of failed relationships. She peeled away from his arms and gasped for air. Her walls were going down faster than a caramel latte on a cold day. She had to get out before the last of her defenses spilled.
Lowering his gaze, he knitted his brows. “Zoe?”
She exhaled and stuttered, “I want”—you—“coffee.”
Not daring to catch Dylan’s gaze for fear of seeing the full depth of his disappointment, she glanced to the tiny box window and out at rolling hills. The gray sky promised the incoming storm locals were referring to as Armageddon.
She had to leave. Now.
“Zoe, do you love me?”
Her cell sang out the chorus from “Georgia on my Mind.” The buzz of the phone on the wooden kitchen table beckoned her to answer the call. Warmth cradled her as the ringtone that reminded her of her home sent her back to a safe time with her parents. A time long before her mom left Zoe’s dad heartbroken. They had played this song, their song, for every anniversary before the divorce. Zoe had chosen that ringtone so she could remember love didn’t mean forever, it wasn’t constant.
The overly familiar jingle tugged at her. The reminder of home comforts gave her a hankering for her mom’s peach pie, which always came with a serving of wise words. It’d been a long time since a slice tasted sweet. Now the treat went down like a bitter pill.
“I have to get the call. It might be important,” she muttered.
He glanced at her and then the device. “Atlanta can wait ’til after you’ve answered me. Do you love me?”
Chapter Two
The Beginning, May 4, 2015
Her journey so far hadn’t been easy with a three-hour delay in Atlanta, Georgia, for a nine-hour flight with attendants who couldn’t make coffee for shit. Then she’d experienced a hair-raising drive with the rental Mini Cooper on the wrong side of the street through London.
But those were the least of her worries. She drove along Welsh country roads now, with sharp twists and bends no one except locals might predict. With lanes this narrow, lined with prickly berry bushes, right and left lanes didn’t exist. From time to time, she noticed occasional tiny side parking spaces. She guessed they were for passing cars to get out of the way.
She didn’t dare think about oncoming vehicles; navigating the tight space alone was bad enough.
Her mobile sang out from inside her oversized purse on the passenger seat.
Who the hell was calling her now? Didn’t they know she was battling British roads?
Cursing, she pulled into one of the side spaces and answered the call.
“Hiya,” Lucy hollered. “Missing me yet?”
The bounce in her sister’s voice invoked welcomed warmth. “Always. And how’s Atlanta without me?”
“Boring. There’s no love drama or jobless woes.”
“Bless your heart, Lucy. As always it’s so nice chatting with you,” she kidded, tapping her fingers to the beat of a high-energy tune playing on the radio. “So, why’re you calling me? Surely not to remind me my life sucks?”
“What?” her sister shrilled. “Hey, I didn’t mention you getting dumped at the altar by your third fiancé in three years.”
“Yeah, the greatest sister there ever was.” Zoe faked a heavy sigh. “So great.”
“I’m stuck in the office twelve hours a day while you’re enjoying zero traffic and indulging in Welsh scones. I envy you.”
“Y’all had eight months out here, all paid for while you and that man of yours filmed. What was it for again? A Welsh countryside series or something?”
“You know very well it was for Paul’s new wildlife show, and that we used the cottage as a base while we filmed Wales. You should be happy because you get to take advantage. Enjoy. Loosen up. Zoe, honey. Have you forgotten what havin’ fun means?”
Lucy’s upbeat attitude wore thin, the way it often did.
“I’m here for peace, Lucy, not fun.”
“I have a great job working for a travel TV show. And it’s true, I do have an awesome boyfriend in Paul, and, yes, we do have a new Southern charmer in the most darling suburb. But my life is no better than yours. I’m praying you find your way, Li’l Sis. Time to realize not every relationship is doomed to end with divorce like our parents’ did. You’re thirty. Time to start acting like it.”
“Lucky Lucy, so wise and grown up. How about you tone down your awesomeness and tell me why you called?”
“Don’t be bitter, Zoe. It doesn’t suit you. I hate to beat you down, honestly, but you’ve chased away any man who has ever tried to love you. It’s on your shoulders. Please, I beg you, take responsibility and use this time away to heal your wounded heart and shake the chip off your shoulder.”
“Lucy,” she whined, then gritted her teeth.
“I’m watching out for you is all, Sis.”
“Yeah, I know. Now hang up so I can focus on the road,” Zoe quipped.
“Oh, wait, there was a reason I called. Wanted to give you a quick warning.”
“Uh-oh.” As if their chat hadn’t been bad enough, now she had a warning?
“Paul and I found the cottage and village gorgeous and all, but the owners are a little cagey.”
“Cagey?”
Lucy snorted. “Yeah, cagey.”
“In what way?”
“They don’t take kindly to outsiders. They’re very private. Too private.”
“Holy moly, I swear you exist to drive me batty, Lucy. Private is good. I’ll have a peaceful break.”
“Yes, go enjoy your break from men. Write your silly book thing, then come back healed and ready to take the job I offered at my office.”
“Is this the position I turned down that’s perfect for a kid?”
“A kid couldn’t write script prompts. Really, Zoe. It’s a job. And it pays well. Take it.”
“Hmm.” Zoe pondered the proposition. While it was true that it would be a proper paying job, she wasn’t sure an actual nine-to-five type of commitment would suit.
“I’m doing you a favor here. I offer you a vacation in Wales and a new job to boot. A fresh start waits. I’m beginning to think Alex was right about you. Don’t you want a better life?”
“He wanted me to take any job paying enough for us to garner that picket fence and afford two kids and, oh, gosh darn it. You’ve really gotten under my skin now.” She gritted her teeth.
“Promise me you’ll at least think about the job.”
She knew the only way she’d get her sister off the phone was to simply agree with her. “Yeah, I’ll think on it.”
Zoe hung up. Her shoulders tensed, and she gripped the wheel so tight her fingers turned white.
No one knew her better than her sister. She was the only person Zoe ever confided in, who knew she pushed men away before they could reach her heart and dish out pain. Damage-control addiction, as her sister referred to it. Though even she didn’t know the full truth.
Never mind the past. Zoe needed to focus on enjoying a relaxing break with no one for miles around.
Bliss.
She turned her phone off and continued down the road but at a snail’s pace. Too frustrated with her sister and the awkward bends, she failed to notice the scenery let alone enjoy it.
“Exit left, continue for half a mile. Your destination is on the right,” the drone female voice of her GPS informed her.
“Excellent.” She sucked the last drop of coffee she’d gotten from the gas station several miles back, and threw the empty to the floor on the passenger side. The paper cup tumbled and settled in the garbage she’d collected after a burger takeout. How’d her car get so messy so quickly? Oh, yeah, a Mini. No room. Her litterbug ways didn’t help.
Shoot. Coffee stained her heather-gray yoga pants.
She’d glanced down for a second.
One darn second!
A mud-splattered once-white pickup truck came right at her, the driver, a hairy hulk, waving for her to move out of his way.
There was no room for her to shift to anywhere else.
No. Room. At. All.
Yet he kept coming at her, moving his mouth at frantic speed as he spouted his frustrations. She counted her blessings, glad his insults were inaudible from inside her car or else she’d have needed to wash out her ears. His scruffy hair and beard, large arms, and thick brows distracted from his glare of displeasure.
He spat some garbled nonsense, Welsh she guessed, through the open window.
She shrugged.
“Move out the way,” he yelled so loud she heard him through her closed window, his accent strong and his tone ferocious, and continued driving straight at her.
She sucked in a breath and tightened her grip around the wheel, bracing for impact.
He scooted to the side and slid beside her, four inches separating them. He halted before their mirrors met. Any closer, and they’d have smashed together.
The pickup driver shook his head.
How in tarnation would she escape this pickle?
“Slowly move forward,”
he ordered. “Very slowly.”
Like she’d do such a thing; she was in a rental for goodness sake.
“Move it, love,” he said, adding bite to his last word.
She shook her head in answer and swore under her breath at his condescending tone. Love, indeed. Tsk.
“Should I call the police?”
The police? Oh, heck no. Not while she was in a rental and in a foreign country. She could reason with him. Nah, he didn’t seem like the reasoning type. The only way to beat a buffoon was to treat him like a coyote and make noise. Lots of noise. And appear big and brave.
She straightened her posture and slammed on the horn.
And again.
The driver rammed his middle finger into the air at her.
That’s it. She wound down her window and hollered, “Dumbass.”
“Me dumb? It’s a one-way road.” He revved his truck and glowered. “And guess who’s the one driving the wrong way, Miss America.”
“Oh, really?” Heat rose to her cheeks, and her shoulders tensed.
“Yes, love, you are,” he replied.
Wait. There was no way she’d been directed the wrong way. She double-checked the small screen that had led her from London to the back of nowhere. Yup. On track.
“My GPS thinks otherwise.”
“GPS isn’t your best guide out here.” He pulled on his thick beard and hummed. “Only one thing to do in this case, and that’s to push my mirror in and hope my driving skills are better than yours.”
He twisted the arm of his side mirror with ease until it folded in. “This happens more often than it should. Lucky for you I rigged my mirror to bend in, or I’d’ve called the police. If I were you, I’d turn your car around.”
He shook his head then edged his truck forward.
Sucking in a breath, she hoped he’d make it without denting the Mini.
His stare set on her car, he eased past her then returned his mirror to its right position before speeding off around the bend.
Before the Rain Page 1