It had been two days already, so why hadn’t he called? She pondered the possibilities in her head.
She knew about the stupid-three-days-dating rule, but she didn’t think Derrick was the kind of guy to believe in those silly rules. If he really liked her, why didn’t he call her right away? Kate shifted in her seat on the metro car and took a deep breath.
You are getting way ahead of yourself, Kate reminded herself.
Kate began chewing on her nails as she worried over all the possible reasons why he hadn’t called yet. She kept trying to push the thoughts out of her mind but she had never met someone like him before. She had never had so much fun and felt such excitement with one person.
She was so deep in thought remembering her date that she didn’t hear the train conductor’s muffled voice over the radio call her stop. She realized as the doors were already open that she needed to get off the car. She jumped up and had to rush to the doors, getting caught between them as the doors tried to close on her. Forcefully, she pushed through the doors and fell onto the platform as she failed to catch herself in time. Embarrassed, she stood up and dusted off her knees and hands. She noticed a rip in her stockings and muttered angrily to herself as she attempted to hide it by pulling her skirt a bit further down.
Kate had never been the graceful type. She had always wanted to be and tried her hardest but somehow she was still known for tripping over flat sidewalks, walking into parked cars, and subjecting herself to whatever other type of embarrassment came her way. She was just glad that at least Derrick had not seen that side of her yet and hopefully he never would. She couldn’t imagine the horror she would feel if she did something stupid like that in front of him!
She looked at her watch and realized that she was running late for work even though she had left her house at the normal time that morning. She sighed as she realized she wasn’t going to have time to stop for her favorite vanilla latte, knowing that without the caffeine fix, her day at work was going to be more stressful than usual.
Kate took the escalator steps up out of the metro two at a time as she hurried up the side, silently cursing at the people in her way. It always frustrated her how some people never understood the unspoken escalator etiquette of standers to the right, walkers to the left. In Washington, DC this was an essential rule that you had to follow and so you could always tell who the tourists were when they were in your way.
As she emerged onto the street, she cast a longing look at her favorite coffee spot down the street. Kate sighed again, annoyed with herself, but then turned to head to work. She turned so fast after having glanced towards the Java Jolt that she hadn’t seen the man standing in front of her. She collided right into his chest as he took a step back in surprise, trying to balance himself and the two cups of coffee he was holding.
Kate started bumbling an apology as she brushed off her skirt, but froze when she recognized the man’s laugh. She looked up quickly to see Derrick grinning at her. He was standing there in a dark brown suit, holding two coffee cups, looking amused at her clumsiness but also staring with dismay at the spilled coffee on his pants.
“Derrick! I didn’t see you- I’m so sorry!” Kate’s face flushed red in embarrassment. Of course something like this would happen right after she had been thinking about the dread of Derrick seeing her clumsy side.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m easy to miss.” Derrick grinned with his boyish smile to Kate, as she scoffed at his joke, staring up at this giant statue of a man. Derrick was easily one of the tallest men that she had ever met and towered over her and everyone else on the street passing by. There was definitely no way that anyone could miss him, except of course for Kate and her clumsiness.
“This one’s for you. Tall vanilla latte, right?” He handed a cup to her.
Kate forgot her embarrassment for a moment and burst into a smile, realizing her day had just taken a dramatic turn for the better.
“Thank you so much, you’re a life saver! I was running late and kicking myself because I didn’t have time to pick one up!” Kate smiled as she took a big gulp of coffee, but quickly coughed when she realized it was still steaming hot.
“Slow down there, you don’t want to burn your tongue. It might be too hot.” Derrick said and then winked at her. She rolled her eyes and touched her lips with her fingers to assess the damage. It didn’t hurt very badly and she figured that she might have only singed a few taste buds.
“I don’t want to make you more late, but I thought asking you in person would be a little better than calling you.” Derrick said, shuffling his feet as he began to feel a little bashful and look down at the ground.
“Ask me what?” Kate said, focusing on trying to read his face, hoping her fears on the train this morning were about to be proven wrong.
“Kate, I had more fun with you on Friday night than I’ve had in years. Hell, even longer than that maybe. I would be the stupidest man alive if I let you get away now.” Derrick grinned at her as he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her towards him, pressing her up against his chest and looking down into her eyes.
“Is that your way of asking for a second date, Mr. Kane?” she teased, coyly.
Derrick responded by leaning down and kissing her firmly on the lips. He slipped his arms around her back as he felt her sag against him, forgetting that they were standing in the middle of a D.C. sidewalk in front of the metro and that dozens of people were swarming past them.
Most were clearly annoyed at the public display and just wanted to get past them. The two ended up quickly pulling apart after being knocked into several times by people passing by who had no qualms about making their opinions loudly known.
“Nope, that’s my way of asking.” Derrick teased back, talking about their kiss, as he let go of her and took a sip of his own drink. Kate cleared her throat and tried to collect herself, smoothing her shirt and repositioning her purse on her shoulder.
“Well, I guess that’s a pretty good, uhm, yeah . . . yes, I’d love to.” Kate stuttered, still trying to recover from the fuzziness that had overtaken her thoughts after that kiss. Derrick’s face lit up with a big smile at her response.
“Perfect, I will be at your place on Friday at 8:00pm. Text me your address, beautiful.” He leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then turned and walked away.
Kate stood there for a moment, watching him head to work. Even from behind and moving away from her, he still was the largest man on the sidewalk and it was clear that his muscled arms and strong bulging shoulders barely fit inside his suit jacket.
Kate smiled as she stood there and sighed, then looked down at her coffee. Suddenly she realized that she was still late for work and mentally smacked herself for wasting so much time standing there. She quickly turned around and raced down the sidewalk towards work, attempting to balance her coffee so that it didn’t spill all over her outfit.
Read the Rest of Tainted Bodies!
Download this book, and the rest in the series, on Sarah’s website at http://booksbysarahrobinson.net/my-books/the-photographer-trilogy/
Please Note: The Photographer Trilogy is a very unique story, and can be classified as a romantic thriller. It will involve topics that might be triggering to some audience, including violence, sexual assault, and more. Please read with caution.
Excerpt from Not A Hero
A Bad Boy Marine Romance Standalone
Prologue
“He’s dead, Miles! He’s dead!” A familiar voice called out to him, panic thundering through his screams. “We need to go. NOW!”
Someone grabbed his arm and roughly yanked him backwards.
Deafening gunshots rang in his ears, drowning out everything else.
His feet were concrete slabs, forcing him to stare at what he’d done. Everything inside him wanted to run for cover, find safety, and forget what had happened. The concrete pushed down, the ground swallowing his feet like quicksand, dragging him down into the dusty red clay as he scrambled t
o free himself. Greedy and unforgiving, the dirt had his knees and kept reaching for more, and he knew without a doubt this was it.
This is how it ends, Miles thought as he grabbed at the surrounding earth pulling him into a desert grave.
This is how I am punished.
Miles Kydd shot out of his bed like it was on fire, electricity pulsing through every nerve in his body. He swiveled around, blinking rapidly, and taking in his surroundings. He quickly realized he was not on fire, but rather, standing in his boxers in the middle of the barracks filled with rows of snoring Marines in bunk beds.
A few shifted in their cots and glanced at him through half-open eyes before rolling over and going back to sleep. The flash of understanding on their faces quickly went blank as they pretended to be oblivious.
They all know.
Miles’s face heated, and he rubbed his fists into his eyes, attempting to rid the images burned there. Raking his fingers through short, dirty blonde hair, the perspiration that coated his skin transferred to his hands. Taking a deep breath and then slowly exhaling, he wiped sweaty palms on his boxers and walked back to his cot.
Quietly, so as to avoid any more attention, he slid under the scratchy wool blanket almost eight years in the U.S. Marines had conditioned him to find comfortable.
Miles glanced to his right. A few cots over, the desert moon beaming through the windows reflected off the pale skin of Tobin’s shaved head, which was partially covered by the blankets pulled to his nose.
His best friend since childhood, Tobin Leach had enlisted with the United States Marines alongside Miles the day after their high school graduation. They had reenlisted an additional four years together, and now were only a few weeks from heading home.
Seeing him close by calmed Miles, easing the anxiety his nightmares and memories had left behind. He clenched his jaw, pushing down the sudden surge of familiar shame, a constant poison threatening to overtake him if he allowed it. He wouldn’t—Miles never lost control.
At least that’s what he told himself.
Taking a deep breath, he hid his demons in a dark corner of his heart. Ignoring them was the best option he had, or maybe the only one.
It’ll be easier once I’m out of this hellhole. He needed to redirect his thoughts, to focus on his excitement about heading home, his discharge official in a few weeks.
Miles was most looking forward to seeing his father. Walter Kydd had recently been diagnosed with lymphoma, which was why Miles had decided not to reenlist again as he’d originally planned. He needed to be home as much as his father needed him there.
He bit down on the inside of his cheek as he considered his father’s illness—the last man on earth who deserved such a hardship. They were each other’s only family, and Walter had given Miles everything he’d ever needed and more. It was more than father-son, Walter was his everything.
A heaviness pressed on his chest, and he turned over on his cot, attempting to change his line of thinking to something positive, something to push the sadness away. His thoughts drifted to his mother—not a topic which could aid his melancholy state—and he pushed that away as well.
Miles squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling slowly. I can do this.
Only one more month in Afghanistan.
Only one more month until his feet would be back on American soil. Then a few weeks later, he’d be walking down those Pennsylvania roads he loved.
It was time to go home.
Chapter One
“You know what I’m most excited to see?” Tobin leaned across the plane aisle toward him, an excited grin plastered across his face and a glassy look in his eyes as he sloshed down his fourth mini-bottle of whiskey.
“What’s that?” Miles warily eyed his friend’s glass, taking note in case things got out of hand. He’d never known Tobin to understand boundaries, but his friend’s drinking had increased since Afghanistan. Not that Miles blamed him after what they’d seen over there.
Miles lifted his own glass, considered the whiskey inside for a minute before putting it back down on the tray table and pushing it away. At the rate Tobin was going, one of them would need to maintain a sense of control.
“Grass, Miles! When is the last time we saw a patch of grass, man? Whole meadows of grass and big trees everywhere you look?” Tobin had a distant look in his eyes as he leaned his head against the headrest. He lifted the mini-bottle of booze to his lips, only to realize it was empty. Frowning, Tobin reached above his head and pressed the call button to summon the flight attendant.
When she didn’t materialize in half a second, he pressed it again…and again…and again.
“Tobin, quit it!” Miles scowled. “She’s coming. Don’t you think you’ve had enough anyway? We’re landing soon, and you don’t need to be completely shit-faced when you see your mom again.”
Tobin scoffed, shaking the small plastic bottle in front of Miles’s face. “I’m going to need more than this kid-sized bottle if I’m going to see Janiiiice.” He grimaced as her name left his mouth.
“Kid-sized booze?” Miles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think you’ve had enough.”
“I just want to see a patch of grass, Miles.” Tobin’s voice was softer now, nostalgic.
Miles couldn’t help smiling and nodding his head. He knew exactly what Tobin meant. One of the many things their camp in Afghanistan had lacked was the lush green grass and trees they’d grown up with in their home town of Slipwick, Pennsylvania.
“I miss the lake.” Miles mused over fond memories of the woods near Lake Arthur where his family home was.
His father had built their house—it was really more of a cabin—from the ground up, right on the lake’s and completely off the beaten trail. It was farther from town than most of Miles’s friends when he’d been in school, but he’d never minded since spending every warm weather day on the water had been worth the trek. He’d practically lived for the hours spent in the old canoe, or equally ratty rowboat.
Tobin chuckled, rubbing his hand over his bare head. “You and that damn lake.” He rattled the ice in his cup, pressing the call button a few more times.
A snarl escaped Miles’s lips, swiveling in his seat to shoot his friend an angry glare, any sense of calm gone. “I swear on your fucking life, Tobin, if you press the damn button one more time, I will break your finger clean off,” he barked.
Tobin’s eyes widened, but Miles’s continued seething, his thoughts taking off at a sprint. The incessant ringing from the call button. The ringing in his head.
Ringing like the sound of the first explosion, knocking him to the ground.
“Damn, Miles.” Tobin put his hands up in defense. “Relax.”
Miles blinked and looked around, suddenly self-conscious. He’d drawn the attention of a few neighboring passengers. From the looks of concern on their faces, he’d be lucky if they didn’t call the Air Marshall on him.
Forcing a tight-lipped smile, he sat back in his seat and faced forward. Guilt washed over him when he noticed Tobin still staring at him with a look of suspicion.
“So grass, huh? What’s next after the greenery?” Miles asked.
An unspoken apology passed beneath his question, and Tobin grinned. All was forgiven. It had always been that simple between the two of them. “Hair. I can’t wait to let it grow out and finally meet some women. A lot of women—you remember how chicks loved my hair. I won’t be able to keep up with them all.”
“Yeah, right. Mr. Romantic suddenly becomes a player. That’ll be the day.” Miles chuckled, smoothing a hand over his own head, his short, dark blonde hair tickling the underside of his palm. “Bet you fifty bucks you’re in a relationship by the end of the month.”
“Hey, not my fault they keep coming back for more.” Tobin rubbed his thumb and index finger over the top of his lip. “I might even grow back my ’stache.”
“Oh, hell no.” Miles dropped his head back, laughing loudly. Several passengers turned to glare at his most recent outburst,
but this time, he didn’t care. “No woman is going to go near you with that dirt on your face again.”
“Hey, I got no complaints.” Tobin huffed, pushing out his chest defensively. He took the next mini-bottle of whiskey from the flight attendant and swigged it down in a single chug. Belching, he pounded his fist to his chest. “At least I wasn’t the town kiss-ass.”
Miles lifted one brow. “Town kiss-ass?”
“You heard me,” Tobin continued. “Once a golden boy, always a golden boy.”
It’d been a while since Miles had thought about his reputation back in Slipwick. All-star high school quarterback, prom king, and class president—he’d been treated like royalty in the small town. Not to mention, he was the late Violet Kydd’s son, the elementary school teacher nearly every single person in town had adored.
His mother, or “Vi” as everyone called her, had been well loved for her sweet demeanor, generous heart, and the brilliant smile that seemed to find its way into even the coldest hearts. Miles had never officially met her since she’d died during childbirth due to complications, but her legacy lingered in every framed photograph at home and every person on the street who stopped to tell him how much they missed her. The Mayor back then had even elected to plant a tree in the main courtyard downtown with a bronze plaque at the base dedicated to her.
“I’ve never been a kiss-ass,” Miles clarified, lifting his chin. He couldn’t control how the town saw him, but he’d certainly never been an angel—especially with a best friend like Tobin. “What about the time I set off an M-80 in Mr. Fenton’s rowboat? Sunk that sucker in less than thirty seconds. Would a golden boy do that?”
Logan Clay: A Forbidden Rockers Box Set Page 34