Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Ours: A Reverse Harem Romance Series
Episode One
April Winters
Contents
Prologue
1. Ava
2. Ava
3. Eric
4. Ava
5. Ava
6. Devon
7. Ava
8. Ava
Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by the copyright law.
Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.
Prologue
Ava
Dallas, Texas
Standing in the pouring rain, I watched as they lowered my mother's casket into her freshly dug grave. I waited for the heart—wrenching agony that was expected when someone lost a parent, but it never came. Nor did the tears I was sure would begin to fall the moment reality set in.
That reality: My mother, the only parent I'd ever known, was gone.
Taking a deep breath, I took a small step forward and dropped the lone red rose I held in my hand atop the matte black casket that would serve as my mother's final resting place.
"Rest in peace, Mama," I whispered. "Wherever you are, I hope it's beautiful." I swallowed around the giant boulder at the base of my throat. "And I pray that you're free of the demons that caused you so much pain while you were alive."
I took a step back, closed my eyes, and dropped my head backward. The cold rain splattered across my face and chest like tiny little shards of melted glass.
It ached, but I didn't care.
At that moment, I was happy to feel anything. Even if it was pain.
"Miss Jackson," Preacher Dixon said as he wrapped a trembling hand around my small bicep. "Would you like me and Evelyn to give you a ride home? We'd be more than happy too."
Opening my eyes, I righted my head. "No, thank you, Preacher," I replied, forcing a smile. "I have no intentions of returning to Mama's house. Besides, I drove my car here so I'm all set."
Preachers brow furrowed. "You're not returning to your home?"
Home, yeah right, I thought. That hell hole never was my home.
"No sir." I straightened my spine and looked from him to his wife, Evelyn. "I don't plan on staying in Dallas a minute longer than is necessary. The only reason I'm still here is that I needed to make sure Mama was laid to rest properly."
"But Ava, your mother would have wanted—"
His words were cut off when I pulled my arm from his loose grasp. "Doesn't matter what Mama would have wanted, Preacher. She's gone." My chest burned as the words slipped free from my lips. "And she isn't coming back."
Evelyn stepped forward. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned into a straight line. Preacher's wife or not, Evelyn Dixon never hid her disdain for my mother and I. I could almost understand her dislike for Mama, but I couldn't understand why she loathed me so fiercely. I'd done nothing to her.
"And just where do you think you're going, young lady?"
I didn't force a smile for her as I'd done for Preacher. "I'm not sure yet. All I know is that my life in Dallas has come to a close. It's time for a fresh start." I took another deep, steadying breath. "Maybe I'll just hit the interstate and see where the road leads me. I'd always wanted to go on an adventure and now seems like as good of a time as any."
Evelyn scoffed. "How are you planning to support yourself? You don't have an education beyond high school, and you have no life experience. How on earth are—"
I cut her off. "I'll figure it out."
In return, Evelyn's lips tipped up in a sinister smile. "I suppose you're planning on supporting yourself the same way your mother did. By spreading your legs and taking advantage of weak men who—."
It was Preacher's turn to cut off his rabid wife and her malicious words. "Sweetheart, there is no need to say such things. I'm sure Ava realizes her mother's mistakes and isn't intent on repeating them."
I'll never be like her, I told myself. I'll never sell my body for money.
"Honey, I know you think I'm cruel but she needs to hear the words I'm saying. If she leaves she won't have a way to support herself, and she'll end up being a whore just like her druggie mother."
Without thinking, I slapped Evelyn across the face. Hard.
She gasped in shock and covered her reddening cheek with her right hand. "Don't you ever talk about my mama like that again!" My voice rose with each word. "She may have been a prostitute, and she may have been a junkie, but she wasn't a bad person!"
And she wasn't.
My mama had been neglectful, and we didn't have a close bond, but I know deep in my heart that if she hadn't been addicted to drugs, things would have been different. She would have taken care of me.
She would've loved me the way she was supposed to.
"You hit me!" Evelyn barked. "How dare you put your filthy hands on me?"
With tears stinging my eyes, I backed up a step. "I am not filthy."
Evelyn's chin trembled and her eyes filled with rage. "Yes, you are. You're a filthy sinner just like your mother!" She looked me up and down with disgust. "And upon your death, you will burn in hell just like she is right now!"
The first tear fell. Then the second.
"You're an ugly, filthy sinner!" Evelyn repeated with a shriek. "Just like the Jezebel who birthed you!"
Preacher Dixon stepped in front of his wife, shielding her from my view. Clasping both of her arms in his hands, he urged her to calm down; to think about what she was saying.
"No!" She shouted. "I will not calm down. Not until she understands!"
I didn't stick around to hear any more.
Turning around, I bolted for my car. Upon reaching it, I yanked open the door, jumped into the driver's seat, jammed the key into the ignition, and started the engine. Shifting into drive, I stomped on the gas pedal and took off like a bat out of hell.
Tears clouded my eyes, making my vision blurry as I pulled out of the cemetery parking lot and headed for the interstate.
"I am not filthy," I whispered to the empty car. "I am not a whore." I banged my fisted hand against the steering wheel. "And I will never be like her!"
With that final thought, I turned onto the interstate ramp and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. I had no idea where I was going or what I'd do once I reached my destination. All I knew was that I needed to escape the darkness that clouded my past. I needed to start over; needed to create a new life for myself.
This, I told myself, is the beginning of my fresh start.
Chapter One
Ava
Six Months Later
Mason Falls, Montana
My hand shook as I picked up the piping hot coffee pot.
Like every morning, I could feel his eyes on me. His stare was incessant, unyielding. It made me feel funny. I'd never like attention from men before, but I craved it from him. Every time I felt his gaze boring into my skin, my heart fluttered in my chest, and my body seemed to come alive.
He made want things, made me crave things I'd never experienced before.
And yet, I didn't even know his name.
Maybe I'm more like my mother than I thought, I told myself.
Disgusted, I pushed the terrify
ing thought away.
I am nothing like her.
Moving around the breakfast bar, coffeepot in hand, I headed toward him. Before I could reach him, my boss Gayle, wrapped her bony fingers around my fingers, halting me in my tracks. Her narrowed, hate—filled eyes stared over at me. "You make sure you keep his coffee refilled and don't act like a hussy."
I never acted like a hussy. Heck, I never even flirted although it would have made me more tips, but Gayle still constantly berated me, making me feel like a cheap whore. I didn't understand why she hated me so much, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could handle it. I mean, everyone had a breaking point, and I was reaching mine. The only reason I hadn't thrown my apron down and quit yet was because I was broke. As in, barely—making—ends—meet kind of broke. Without my lousy tips, I'd be homeless and hungry within a week.
Time to start looking for a new job.
Pulling my arm from her grasp, I turned back toward him. "If you'll excuse me," I said with forced politeness. "I need to get back to my customers."
Gayle took a step back, allowing me to pass her.
Putting Gayle behind me—literally and figuratively—I headed for the mystery man who'd wiggled his way into my brain over the last few weeks. It was nuts because all I thought about was him. When I was at work, I always watched the door, hoping that he'd walk through it. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. And when I was in my room at the cheap motel where I was staying—hopefully temporarily—his handsome face, his deep voice, and his muscular build all haunted me. I knew it wasn't healthy, but I couldn't help it. The reality of the situation was simple.
That reality: I was becoming obsessed with him.
When I was only steps away from reaching his booth—the same one he always sat in—another customer, a man named Rodney Wilson, reached out and grabbed my wrist. "Morning, beautiful," he said in a slimy voice that made my skin crawl. "I've been waiting for you to sashay your behind this way." He smiled and my stomach rolled. Using his free hand, he knocked a spoon off the table. It landed next to my foot. "Oops"—he pointed at the spoon—"Sorry about that. I can be so clumsy sometimes." His eyes dropped to my chest. "Why don't you pick it up?" His smile turned lecherous. "Wouldn't want somebody to slip and fall on a spoon, now would we?" The other three men sitting at the table with Rodney all snickered; their gazes glued to me.
I felt like vomiting. I knew what he was doing and what he wanted. I didn't want to do it. Just thinking about bending over in front of Rodney and his friends and giving them all a glimpse of my ample cleavage made me want to run away. The only problem with that was that if I walked out, I'd lose my job. And I already explained what the consequences of losing my job would be.
Steeling my spine, I was half a second away from picking up the stupid spoon when I felt someone's body heat hit my back. I had no idea who it was and didn't look either.
Besides, I already had a good feeling I knew who was behind me.
I didn't know how I knew, I just did.
Rodney's face paled. "Hey, man," he stuttered, a look of terror in his eyes. "How it's going?"
An arm wrapped around my middle and I was moved to the side.
I looked up. My eyes found him standing beside me, a look of rage plastered across his face. At the sight, my insides turned to jelly, and my skin flushed red—hot.
"Don't speak to her, don't look at her, and don't mess with her," the man ground out through gritted teeth. "She is off fucking limits to you and everyone else in this town. Understand?"
Rodney nodded and held his hands up in the air. "I've got it, man." His hands shook. "I won't say nothing else to her."
"Good," the man replied. "Now pick up the spoon."
Without hesitating, Rodney did as he demanded. He placed the spoon back on his table and turned to face the man sitting across from him.
After that, the man—whose name I still didn't know—didn't say anything else before making his way back to his booth.
My entire body trembled as I followed behind him. Flipping over the clean coffee cup sitting on the table, I filled it with freshly brewed coffee. "Thank you for that."
He placed his clenched hands on the table and looked up at me. "Nobody fucks with you. Not now. Not ever. Got it?"
Like Rodney, I nodded. "Yeah, I've got it." Moments of silence ticked by as we stared at each other. Unable to bear it any longer, I asked, "What would you like for breakfast?"
His lips parted. Then, "Depends. Are you on the menu?"
My stomach clenched—in a very good way—at his words. "I, uh, n—no" I stuttered. "N—not today."
Not today? I can't believe I just said that!
"Not today, huh?" He pinched his lower lip between two fingers as he continued to stare at me. "You're breaking my heart, baby." He looked past me and scowled at someone. Who, I didn't know. "I'm just gonna have coffee this morning, darlin'. I'm in a hurry."
My stomach sank in disappointment because I didn't want him to leave. Not yet. Nodding, I replied, "okay." I pointed at his mug of coffee. "Let me bring you a to—go cup."
He didn't reply, so I turned on my heel and walked back to the breakfast counter. Gayle glared at me the entire way, but I ignored her.
After filling a to go cup with coffee, I turned around and headed back to him.
Reaching his table, I sat it down in front of him. "Here you go."
He stood up, but I didn't take a step back. I wanted to be close to him. He towered over me, and I had to drop my head back to get a good look at his face. After pulling a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket, he folded it into fourths. Lifting his hand, he ran the folded bill down the side of my face and across my jaw before sliding the money into the front of my apron. "My beautiful, Ava," he whispered. "Way to pretty to be working in a place like this." He dipped his head, and for a second I thought he was to kiss me. He didn't. Instead, he swiped his thumb across my bottom lip. My eyes slid closed at the sensation. "Be a good girl while I'm gone, yeah?" His warm breath danced across my throat.
Eyes still closed, I replied. "Always."
He removed his hand and seconds of silence ticked by. When I felt like I had a good enough grip on my control, I opened my eyes.
When I did, he was gone.
The only thing he'd left behind was a folded newspaper sitting on the table. Seeing something circled in red, I picked it up. Curious, I read the black text.
Wanted: Receptionist for a busy construction company. Must be willing to work weekends and overtime as needed. Excellent pay and benefits. Inquire at Stone Construction, 5200 Highway 91. Must have references. Bring resume.
My heart kicked into overdrive.
This is it, I told myself. This is my way out of this hell hole.
A slow smile spread across my face.
There was light at the end of the tunnel after all.
Chapter Two
Ava
I felt like I was going to puke.
I stood in the middle of a dirt—covered parking lot, staring at a sand—colored mobile office trailer that was parked next to a busy construction site. Nervousness combined with a gnawing fear of what was to come bubbled in the pit of my belly. Feeling my anxiety increase each passing second, I glanced down at the newspaper I held in my hand and read the classified ad I'd found on the diner table one last time.
Wanted: Receptionist for a busy construction company. Must be willing to work weekends and overtime as needed. Excellent pay and benefits. Inquire at Stone Construction, 5200 Highway 91. Must have references. Bring resume.
Excellent pay and benefits. I'd read the line at least a hundred times since I woke up that morning. Despite the nervousness ricocheting through my body, the promise of a decent salary had me swallowing around the lump in my throat and clamping down the fear that seemed to bubble beneath my heated skin. In my head, I knew I wasn't qualified for the position that I was about to apply for.
Please let this work out.
Seriously, if I didn't get a j
ob, I was going to end up quitting the Diner once I'd had enough of Gayle's crap and then I'd end up homeless and starving. It's not like I was making a lot of money to begin with. I didn't have anything in savings, and I didn't have any belongings that I could sale to make some quick cash. Six months ago, I'd been forced to sell my car—the only thing of value I owned—to the scrap yard after the engine blew on the side of the interstate when I was on my way to Billings. It's how I'd ended up staying in Mason Falls to begin with. Without another mode of transportation, I'd become stuck.
Thinking about the dire situation I was in caused determination—or maybe it was desperation—to set in. Despite my terror, I steeled my spine, took a deep breath and moved towards the trailer's door. My heart thudded in my chest, and my throat was drier than the Sahara as I climbed the aluminum steps and wrapped my hand around the doorknob.
Well, here goes nothing.
Twisting the doorknob, I pushed the door open. Upon stepping through the threshold, I was greeted with a blast of cold air blowing from a window air conditioner unit situated directly across the room. I sighed in relief. Until a few months ago, I had no idea it got so hot in Montana. I mean, I'd grown up in Texas so I knew what brutal summers were like but I wasn't expecting this.
Closing my eyes, I dropped my head back and let the cold breeze wash over me. The forceful blast of air blew against the white, cotton dress I was wearing, molding the soft fabric to my overheated, sweat covered skin.
"Thank God for air conditioning," I whispered to myself without stopping to think about the fact that someone else could be—and likely was—in the room with me. "It's just to dang hot out."
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