Reaching Gavin (Good Girls Don't Book 3)

by Geneva Lee

  Copyright © 2018 by Geneva Lee.

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Print ISBN-13: 978-1-945163-12-8

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-945163-17-3

  Cover Illustration © 2017 LuckyStep48/BigStockPhoto.

  Cover Design © 2017 Date Book Designs.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark of any product or brand mentioned in this fictional work.

  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.

  Also by Geneva Lee

  THE ROYALS SAGA

  Command Me

  Conquer Me

  Crown Me

  Crave Me

  Covet Me

  Capture Me

  Complete Me

  THE GOOD GIRLS DON’T SERIES

  Novels

  Catching Liam

  Teaching Roman

  Novellas

  Unwrapping Liam

  STANDALONES AND NOVELLAS

  The Sins That Bind Us

  Two Week Turnaround

  Contents

  Also by Geneva Lee

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Seattle, Washington was a veritable minefield of ex-boyfriends. Turn a corner. Step out of a building. Grab a quick bite to eat. And boom!

  I had found myself face-to-face with three already, and I hadn’t even finished the first day of my internship. I was beginning to wonder if the university had started a male consignment program, loaning out every eligible bachelor on campus to the greater metropolitan area. Not that all of them were still eligible—and none of them were available, according to my standards.

  My day started with running into Luka, a.k.a. Mr. Freshman Year, while trying to pay for parking. As if paying twenty-five dollars for the privilege to leave my car wasn’t bad enough, the machine wouldn’t take my card. When the man behind me kept persistently clearing his throat, I’d finally lost my cool and spun around. “Do you need a cough drop, jacka…?”

  The words died on my lips when I saw those familiar blue eyes. I’d peered into them enough a few years back to have each fleck in his irises memorized. If only I’d bothered to look a little deeper. That had been hard given his off-the-charts hotness. I’d been taken in by his unruly blond hair and square jaw. The two hours a day he spent in the gym hadn’t hurt either. Not initially. It probably should have clued me in that he was a Grade A narcissist.

  “Cassie?” He sounded as surprised as I felt, which was a much-needed boost to my confidence. Maybe he hadn’t expected to run into anyone he knew, or maybe—just maybe—I’d come a long way from the nineteen-year-old girl he’d known. I’d traded in my yoga pants and Uggs for Jimmy Choos and pencil skirts. I was well past my basic bitch stage. Now, I was a badass bitch.

  “The machine is broken.” As far as I was concerned that was the only explanation. I’d tried for five minutes to get it to accept payment.

  “Let me try.” Luka’s lips quirked into the arrogant smirk I’d once found so charming. Back then it had won him an all-access pass to my panties. Now, I fought the urge to slap him. Did he not recognize my new status as a badass bitch?

  Obviously not, because he swiped the Visa from my hand. Stepping forward, he flipped it over and swiped it. The payment processed instantly.

  Life must be easier for the really, truly stupid. They probably weren’t aware when they did something really, truly idiotic. Though I was not really, truly stupid, I was now very well-aware that I’d done something really, truly idiotic.

  A string of curses slipped from my mouth that would have made a sailor blush.

  He handed the card back to me. My parking spot was secured, but my dignity was in shambles.

  “Thanks.” I stuffed the card in my purse and avoided eye contact. Why couldn’t it have been a stranger behind me? A soccer mom or a wizened old executive? Someone who wouldn’t have noticed I didn’t know how to use a credit card machine.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, as he punched in the number of his parking spot and paid for it.

  “Internship,” I bit out, eyeing the exit. “Actually, I need to go or I’ll be late.”

  He pocketed his receipt. Turning to face me, his eyes swept over my body, paying extra attention to my chest. “We should hang out sometime. God, you haven’t changed a bit.”

  I couldn’t stop myself. If Luka didn’t think I’d changed, he had another thing coming. “Me or my tits?” I spat. “It’s you who haven’t changed.” I didn’t wait to see if I’d wiped the smug grin off his face. I was out of the parking garage instantly.

  Yes, I still had the same body—thanks to five hours a week at the gym. But equating me with my breasts was exactly why my relationship with Luka hadn’t worked out. His attention didn’t extend postcoitus. I’d wanted a commitment and all he could offer was orgasms. That had been enough for a while. But when the eyes that wandered over my body started to wander in other directions, I’d kicked him to the curb.

  I made a mental note to park in another—less convenient—parking garage and moved on with my life.

  The trouble was that my life was following the cues of a Dickens novel, complete with the ghosts of boyfriends past. When I popped into the coffee shop on the corner, the brown eyes accompanying the barista were all too familiar. It was Mr. Nice Guy himself. Danny lit up when he saw me, which made me feel two inches tall despite my five-inch heels. He was the definition of a nice guy. Too nice. We’d dated after a string of bad decisions and a tequila-induced vow to give up bad boys.

  He was writing my name on a cup before I could back out the door I’d just entered.

  “On the house!” he called cheerfully, starting to make my drink without waiting for my order. Danny remembered how I took my coffee. Because Danny was an honest-to-god, good person—and I was dirt.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, shifting back and forth on my heels. If he let me pay for it, I would have something to do besides stare at his angelic face beaming back at me. It’s important to note that Danny was smoking hot in a sorta boy-next-door way. Even in the requisite Sound Coffee t-shirt he wore, his muscular upper body was on display—a body he’d gotten from rock-climbing, biking, and volunteering at the local animal shelter. As he finished up my drink, a thick lock of brown hair fell into his eyes. He pushed it behind his ear. I’d seen him do it a million times. In a way, it was comforting. And therein lied the problem with Dan
ny. He was comfortable and safe. Everything I had thought I wanted.

  No matter how hard I’d tried—and we’d dated for months—it had been like kissing my brother. We’d never even made it past second base. I’d broken up with him over text because ending it to his face would have been worse than kicking a puppy.

  Naturally, he’d taken it well and judging from the genuine happiness radiating from him, I hadn’t done any long-term damage. So why did I still feel so awful?

  “How are you?” he asked as he slid a cardboard sleeve over my cup.

  “Good.” I accepted the free drink. After all, it was a big day. A free drink was like a little karmic good luck charm. Maybe I hadn’t been so terrible to Danny after all. Maybe I wasn’t a garbage person. Maybe I was being given the chance to see how much I’d changed. “How are you?”

  I took a tentative sip of the drink he’d handed me. Three shots of espresso, skim milk, and the tiniest pump of mocha. It was exactly how I liked it.

  “Great.” He leaned forward so we could talk over the clatter of the coffee shop. “I’ve been working here since my dad died. I’m trying to save up tuition for one more year, so my mom doesn’t have to help me with a student loan.”

  The coffee turned to ash in my mouth and I nearly dropped the cup. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Danny. I hadn’t heard!”

  “It’s okay.” He dismissed my shock with a wave of his hand. “It’s been two years. I miss him, but I know he’s watching out for me.”

  Two years? It didn’t take much mental arithmetic to recount where I’d been two years ago. I’d been fresh off my text break-up with Danny and hitting the bars with my best friends and a couple of fake IDs. As much as I wanted to ask him why he hadn’t told me, I knew the answer. Why update an ex-girlfriend who couldn’t even break up with you in person?

  “We should get together sometime,” I said guiltily, thanking him one more time for the drink as I took off. I dumped it in the first garbage can I saw. That was where I belonged: in the garbage. Now I had to find a new drink, so I wouldn’t have to repeat that interaction every time I went for coffee—if I could bear to face him again.

  Maybe I could face Danny again if I was clear that I wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship. Then we could hang out. A friend might be exactly what he needed. Not that he didn’t have any. He’d always been the guy surrounded by buddies. Probably because he was the guy you could call to help you move or paint a room or mow your lawn. Danny was possibly the world’s last nice guy. I was still considering how I could make it up to him when I entered the lobby of NorthWest Investments for the first time.

  I had completed my interviews over the phone and on campus, which meant I’d never seen the offices before. Given what I knew about the business, I’d expected a cramped, cubicle-ridden studio. The owners of the group weren’t much older than me. The CEO wasn’t even thirty. Despite the fact they’d been buying up neglected Seattle landmarks and restoring them, I hadn’t expected there to be real money behind the operation. Everything from the floor-to-ceiling windows, polished marble floors, and the gleaming bank of elevators proved me wrong. I’d been excited to cut my teeth working in public relations for a start-up. Standing here, I was elated—and nervous. This internship was obviously a much bigger deal than I had thought. I allowed myself a moment to let it soak in. It wasn’t a real job—not yet. But it was the closest I’d ever come to one.

  Shouldering my bag, I started toward the reception desk before skidding gracelessly to a halt as a man stepped into my path. Running into Luka had felt like a bad omen. Catching up with Danny had left me reeling. But the last person I wanted to see, in the last place I wanted to see him, waited for me inside the NorthWest Investments lobby.

  Trevor, the most recent catch that I’d released, held up his hands in surrender. He’d made a similar gesture when I’d caught him with another woman last Christmas. The vulnerability didn’t jibe with the rest of him. He’d talked a big game and his ability to romance had completely blinded me to his bad behavior. In my book, he would always be Señor Douchebag.

  My mind began to race. What was he doing here? Had he followed me? Maybe I’d gone to the wrong place. I double checked the door and saw that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Then the pieces began to click into place. I’d applied for this summer internship last fall during the dark period when we’d still been dating. Fury burned through me as I realized what had happened.

  He’d applied for the same internship. I didn’t remember there being two openings, which meant he’d purposefully put himself in direct competition with me—while we were still dating. I’d thought his cheating was bad, but apparently, he could, and did sink lower.

  “Let me explain,” he began, but I walked past him. Trevor followed me to the reception desk.

  I did my best to block out his lame excuses as I checked in with the man behind the counter.

  “Hi George,” I said, reading the nameplate on the desk. “I’m here for the internship program.”

  George’s lips twitched as he assessed the situation. We had to look pretty ridiculous: a slimy dude throwing out every clichéd excuse in the book and the ex-girlfriend trying to ignore him. I probably had steam coming out of my ears. “What’s your name?”

  “Cassandra Hart,” I said sweetly.

  “Mr. North will be here for the intern orientation in a moment. If you’d like to take a seat…” he trailed away. No doubt, he knew that I’d rather spend that time skewering my fellow intern.

  Turning, I calmly walked toward a sitting area, but before I could take a seat, Trevor hit me with, “We need to clear the air.”

  “Really?” I whirled on him. Dropping my voice to a low hiss, I decided to do just that. “You are unbelievable. You stole this internship from me.”

  “You’re here, too. I hardly stole anything.”

  He had a point, but I wasn’t about to concede that. “You did this deliberately. I have no idea why—and God help you—if it’s to try to win me back. Let me be clear. You and me? We’re over. So, if this is a pathetic attempt”—

  “It’s not,” he stopped me.

  That threw me. “Well….good. Because if you screw this up for me, I will cut off your balls and feed them to the seagulls.”

  Trevor’s face darkened, but before he could respond, we were interrupted by a polite cough.

  “I guess we’ll start with the sexual harassment policy.”

  We both turned to the source of the low, masculine voice. I squared my shoulders in a bid to look confident, but my cheeks burned. The heat ratcheted to an inferno when my eyes landed on him: Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome in a tailored suit. His black hair was tucked behind his ears and his electric, blue eyes studied me. Judging by his scowl—the only thing marring his gorgeous face—he didn’t like what he saw.

  My knees buckled slightly and I took a swift step forward to catch myself. It took me a second to find my voice, but when I did, it was strong and clear. “Mr. North?”

  He tilted his head in acknowledgment and my heart sank. Given his age, he couldn’t be more than a few years older than I was. I’d hoped he might be another intern. Or a secretary. Or a bizarrely nosy stranger. Anyone but the CEO of the company.

  “Call me Gavin,” he offered. “I assume you two know each other.”

  I nodded and caught Trevor doing the same.

  “We’re old friends.” The lie slid easily out of Trevor, and Gavin’s eyebrows shot up. Gavin North obviously had a more finely tuned bullshit detector than I did. Still, he didn’t call him out. Trevor stepped forward before I could recover. “I’m Trevor.”

  I hated that he introduced himself first. Thrusting my hand out before Trevor could, I said, “Cassie. I mean, Cassandra.”

  Gavin looked back and forth between us before shaking my hand as if making a decision. Two overly eager interns determined to best the other. He chose me, grabbing my hand in a firm grip. Sparks flew the second our skin touched, and I s
tifled a gasp. He was hot and I was wound tight, it was a terrible combination. I drew away, hoping he didn’t see how flustered the contact had made me. But when our eyes locked, his were stone cold. Too cold. Either he already hated me or he’d decided to keep his distance. Maybe I wasn’t the chosen one after all. Considering the threat I’d been leveling at Trevor when he walked in, I wouldn’t blame him on either count. The butterflies in my stomach turned into a swarm of pissed-off bees.

  “If you two are finished”—he didn’t wait for us to respond—“allow me to welcome you to your first day at NorthWest Investments.”

  The chill in his voice did nothing to stem the sickening anxiety I felt over my actions. I forced a smile, wondering if my first day would also be my last. By the time I got home that evening, I wished it had been.

  Chapter Two

  My current boyfriend was reliable, attentive, and battery-operated. So what if my longest lasting relationship had variable speeds and pulsating action? Mr. Dependable, my vibrator, had never let me down. It was also sitting in the middle of the floor in my new condo. My roommate’s cat dozing lazily next to it.

  “Seriously!” I grabbed it from the cat who batted at my hands as if put out by the theft. “It’s mine, you know. How did you even get into my underwear drawer?”

  Great. Now I was talking to a cat. Further proof that today had nearly broken me. When she tried to follow me into my bedroom, I slammed the door before she made it inside. She responded with a frustrated meow. At least, the cat was talking back. I plucked a few of her hairs off the vibrator and returned it to its resting place among my unmentionables, then kicked off my heels. I’d thought the last couple of years walking a college campus would have prepared me for being on my feet all day, but Seattle’s terrain was hilly and prone to cracked sidewalks. I’d also quickly learned that despite the bank of elevators at NWI, I could wait my whole life for one to come, so I’d made myself acquainted with the stairs as I delivered files from office to office in an effort to get to know the building better.