by KL Donn
Loving the Girl in the Tutu
Uncontrolled Heroes Book 3
KL Donn
Copyright © 2021 by KL Donn
All rights reserved.
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.
Cover Design & Formatting by Alluring Write Productions
Editing by KA Matthews
Photographer: Lindee Robinson
Model: Travis Blendell
Contents
Synopsis
Prologue
1. Beckett
2. Beckett
3. Royal
4. Beckett
5. Beckett
6. Royal
7. Royal
8. Beckett
9. Royal
10. Beckett
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by KL Donn
Synopsis
From USA Today bestselling author KL Donn comes the all-new Uncontrolled Heroes series where the heroes took over and decided they all get a little lovin’.
* * *
Beckett Larrabee was always the quiet sibling. He watched the world around him while his brother took over the world, or their slice of Long Beach anyway. He liked fixing bikes, riding along the Pacific Coast Highway, and watching the sun set over the ocean.
When he catches a glimpse of a girl dancing in the sand, a colorful tutu around her waist, he becomes transfixed. Obsessed. Determined to find out her identity, he follows her.
* * *
Royal Sullivan has acquired a stalker on a motorcycle. Imposing, tattooed, and handsome, she shouldn’t be feeling anything for him but scared. Except…he makes her heart pound heavy in her chest.
He makes her forget she’s been ruined.
* * *
Beckett is addicted.
Royal is intrigued.
* * *
All that’s left is to love the girl in the tutu, but is there a future once Royal’s tragic past is revealed?
* * *
Falling in love isn’t always planned, and when you least expect it, your heart decides for you. Come on over to Long Beach, California, to find out who falls in love, who gets naughty on the beach, and if family truly is everything.
Dedication
For Shelby.
You’re loved and missed.
Prologue
Royal
Five Years Old.
“Secrets" by We Three
* * *
“Why are you all bruised?”
“Are those needle marks?”
“Does your mommy and daddy hit you?”
Staring down at my arms, colored with the bruises from all the needles jabbed in my skin, I don’t understand the way they look at me.
“You’re so weird. You even have a weird name.”
“Who do you think you are, a princess?”
The questions come, and, at first, I thought it was because they wanted to be my friend. I know it’s not now. They think I’m a freak.
Maybe they’re right.
Fourteen Years Old.
First Day of Freshman Year.
* * *
Sitting under the bleachers at lunch, I pull at the sleeves of my shirt, making sure they cover past my wrists. The bruises, the scars, they’re all there. All the time. They never get a chance to heal because, by the time they might, I’m being poked and prodded again.
I’m a human pin cushion at home and school. I think I’ve spent more time in hospitals than anywhere else. It gives cruel kids a lot of ammunition to target and bully me. My parents tell me to ignore it, that the others are ignorant and don’t understand my obligations. They’re probably right, but it doesn’t mean I hurt any less because of it. I’m human. With real human feelings that nobody ever considers.
“Did you see her? She’s such a freak. Always missing school, looking like death when she comes back. I bet she’s a junky whore. I don’t know how they allow her into the school. Royal Sullivan should just overdose on her drugs and die already.”
Angrily wiping away my tears, I bite my knee so I don’t make a sound and catch their interest. They don’t know me. The things I’ve done. The person I’m saving. My why.
They know nothing.
Sometimes I feel like I don't either.
Twenty Years Old
Santa Monica Beach.
* * *
He’s watching me. I can feel his eyes on me, the way they caress me. The boy on the pier who appears as lonely as I feel.
Sometimes our eyes meet, and we share a passing moment of understanding. When my heart cramps, I have to look away, though, and I can’t stand the way he seemingly delves into my soul.
Closing my eyes, I listen to the lyrics of "Secrets" by We Three in my ears and bury my toes in the sand as the water glides up with each crash of the waves. The feeling helps me breathe. It reminds me that life is precious.
Life should be preserved at all costs.
No matter the price to me, to my body. My heart and soul.
Chapter 1
Beckett
“Is It Just Me" by Emily Burns feat. JP Cooper
It’s been a month since I’ve seen the girl in the tutu. Watched her hips sway and her arms wave like she’s part of the ocean. She's always wearing earbuds, and the man I’ve now deduced is her bodyguard never stands more than twenty feet from her. The last time I saw her, she met my stare as I unashamedly watched her from the moment she arrived until she left, and there was something different in her dark eyes.
She didn’t just look sad, she looked hopeless. Like her life wasn't her own, and the more I watched her, the more I wanted to get to know her. Yeah, she’s gorgeous with her long, wavey blonde hair, but there’s more than that. She calls to me in a way I’ve never experienced before.
For years, watching the sun set has been something I've more than enjoyed. It brings me a sense of peace. Whenever I feel restless, I hop on my bike for the scenic drive up the Pacific Coast Highway and find myself at Santa Monica Pier. I don’t know why this area calls to me when it’s probably the coast's busiest spot. I’ve always just gravitated here.
Now that I stare down at the empty plot of sand, I can’t help wondering if she’s the reason. The girl in the tutu. She dances without rhythm but is filled with a freedom I don’t think anyone can deny. I have no idea where she’s been in the past month, but I know the next time I see her, I’m getting her name. I’m asking her out, and god help me, I just might pull the stunt my brother Cade and our friend Jace did and claim the girl as my own.
At twenty-nine years old, I can’t deny that I might be ready to settle down, start a home and family. Something all my own. Someone all my own.
I’ve been partners with Cade and Jace for years. We bought Controlled Bikes together, and we each have our strengths in the business. I’m a wizard with the airbrush and graphic design. I have clients from all over the world coming to me for custom bike creations, classic cars, hell, even for kids’ bedroom décor. My own niece, Lily, has the Neverland forest muraled on two walls in her room with fairies and all kinds of creatures she asked me for. Her older brother, Mac, has a custom bike he wants to own one day painted on his wall, and their youngest brother, Wheeler, has the damn beach in his room at his mother Petal’s insistence.
After painting Wheeler’s room, I realized how much this girl had come to mean to me these last few months. At least four have gone by that I’ve been coming
across her. Sometimes, a couple times a week. And I watch, for hours, as she dances, sits, plays in the sand. Now I feel like I might have missed my chance because what if she never comes back? It’s not a thought I want to entertain.
Walking back up the pier to where my bike is parked, regret keeps me looking for her. Darkness is falling quickly, and I know I’ll have to give up the search for tonight. Climbing on my motorcycle, I sit for a minute as I buckle my helmet and slowly peruse the drivers of other cars as they pass by me before starting it up.
The rumble between my thighs is powerful and filled with the same agitation overtaking me now. Pulling into traffic, I don’t waste time waiting on the cars slowing down as I weave around them until I hit the PCH and allow the salty air to fill my lungs as I cruise back home.
Tomorrow.
I’ll come back tomorrow and every fucking day after until I see her again. I have to because we have unfinished business. I need to know if she feels this same spark inside of her as I do.
Royal
* * *
Sitting in the sand as the water laps at my feet, I force myself to breathe the pain away. The physical and the metaphorical. My heart hurts, struggling to understand why I’m here. Why I was chosen to be this girl. Because this girl is overflowing with so much agony that crawling out of bed in the mornings is a struggle, I don’t know if I want to continue anymore.
I used to believe I was helping; I was useful. I was saving a life I loved.
Now, all I see is bitterness and rage.
They all hate me.
Because I said no.
For the first time I can ever remember, I told them no, and now I’m suffering the consequences of that refusal.
My freedom.
I have only ever asked for one thing while going through treatments, procedures, and surgeries: access to the beach. I want to dance in the sand, I want to feel the water between my toes, the sting of the warm sand as I walk barefoot on the beach. And yes, we have our own private beach, but there are no people here. I can’t pretend I belong somewhere other than where I am.
A low whistle catches my attention. Turning slowly due to the pain flowing through my back and hip, I see Braxton Hughes walking towards me. For the last two years, he’s been my keeper. He goes everywhere with me and makes sure I get to all the appointments on time. The only thing we’re missing is my leash as far as I’m concerned.
“The housekeeper told me what happened,” he leads with as he sits next to me. The tattoos on his hands have always intrigued me but not enough to ask about them. “Said it was one hell of a blowout.” I shrug.
Braxton isn’t my friend or confidante or anything else. He’s my father’s lap dog. Reporting back all the unacceptable things I do.
“To be honest, I think what they’re asking of you this time is crossing a line.” Shocked, I rapidly blink as I stare at him. He’s never offered an opinion on my situation before. “What?” he scoffs. “You think I’m some cold asshole who just babysits you?”
“Yes.”
His lip quirks up at the side. We don’t talk very often. He barks orders, and I listen. “Well, I’m not. I used to protect another girl like you. Not in the same situation, but with parents who just didn’t give a shit. I do have a heart.” There’s something in the way he responds that makes me wonder if his heart wasn’t left with the other girl.
Turning slightly, I face him. “What happened to her?”
“She found love in a possessive asshole who fought tooth and nail for her.”
“Did you love her?”
Chuckling, Braxton shakes his head. “Not her, no. But someone close to her.”
“What happened to that girl?” I don’t know why I’m so curious. Maybe I need hope that I can get away from this life.
“Joss was barely eighteen, came from a religious family that not only exploited her and her siblings, but they also scarred her for life. I don’t know if she will ever be ready for a man to love her the way I want to.”
“That sounds terrible,” I reply. “Do you ever talk to this girl?”
“We email every week. She’s in college now, trying to live a normal life, but I know she hates it there.”
“You could quit, go rescue her from all the party boys and snarky girls.” I grin.
“Nice try, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” He knows I hate it. I’ve always hated it. No matter how many procedures or surgeries I’ve had in my life, my parents have always pushed me to return to school as soon as I was medically cleared. Because of my name…Royal…the kids would mock me by calling me princess. It never made much sense, but I hate the nickname just the same.
“Stop trying to get yourself in shit then,” he counters.
“How am I doing that?” I glare over at him.
“Avoiding your parents. Ignoring their calls. They want you to come back up to the house.” Standing up, he wipes the sand off his butt and offers me a hand.
Turning my back to him, I refuse it. “We were almost bonding. Why’d you ruin it?” Laying my chin on my knees, I close my eyes and block out anything else he has to say.
I’m not going back up to the house so they can guilt me into succumbing to something I swore I never would. I’m twenty now, and they can’t force me to either. Especially not after everything they’ve already taken from me.
Don’t they realize I have nothing left to give? I’m tapped out. Emotionally drained. I want to take off, live my own life, but I know if I do, it means death, and I’ll never be welcomed back home again.
Chapter 2
Beckett
“What Ifs" by Kane Brown feat. Lauren Alaina
“You sure you’re good here?” I don’t look up at Cade as he calls to me from the office doorway. Over the last two weeks, I’ve stopped frequenting the pier and have immersed myself in work. I know he’s worried about me, but it’s either this or lose my mind over not seeing the girl again.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I say the words, but I’m distracted as I freehand the flaming skull on the motorcycle's gas tank in front of me.
“Beck, you need to get out of here. Go for a ride, man, that always clears your head.” When I don’t respond, I hear him muttering as the door closes behind him, and he heads home.
Standing straight, I stretch out the muscles in my back, neck, and shoulders. I’m stiff, and I know if I don’t get out of here, I’ll be too sore to move tomorrow.
Cade’s right; I know he is. But he doesn’t get it. He’s got everything. The kids, the wife, the dog, and the picket fence. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted. I’m happy as hell for him, but I’m also envious.
I love Petal and the kids, but their life is the type I want too.
And for a minute there, I thought I could have that with my ex, but she just wanted a good time with the guy she misconstrued as a serious bad boy. I’m not, though. I ride a Harley, sure. I have tattoos and somewhat of a bad attitude, but I grew up in a home that ensured I had drive and dreams for the future.
I've created the career I have always wanted. I own a house that’ll do for now. Unfortunately, what I don’t have and want, is the girl from the beach. Twirling in the tutus in every damn color as she dances, with her gorgeous blonde hair and melancholy eyes.
“Fucking hell.” Gripping the strands of hair at the base of my skull, I tug, attempting to shake this girl out of my head. She’s driving me fucking crazy, and I don’t even know her name. The color of her eyes, or how old she is because she looks fucking young.
Grabbing the tarp I dropped on the ground earlier, I fling it over the bike and leave the shop.
Cade’s right. I need to clear my head, and concentrating on drawing again is the distraction I need. Maybe this is a fucking sign that I’m not meant to have my dreams fulfilled in the same way Cade and Jace received theirs.
It’ll fucking kill me if that’s the case, but I’ll have to learn to live with it. Locking up as I leave, I hop on my chopper a
nd drive. No destination in mind, but as soon as I hit the PCH, I know my body has already decided we’re going to leave Long Beach and cruise to Santa Monica on the off chance tutu girl is there.
If she is, I’m not wasting any more time. I’m engaging with her, not just catching a glimpse of her.
Invigorated, I crank the throttle and speed up, grateful for the clear night and lack of traffic as I already see the sun's horizon beginning its descent. Finding a parking spot along the palisade, I toss some coins in the machine and stride towards the area of the beach she’s usually at because she’s like me and doesn’t enjoy change.
Disconcerted, I felt confident she would be here, but she isn’t. Fuck! I hope she hasn’t been coming in the hopes of seeing me here because I haven’t been. I didn’t want to continue with the disappointment night after night.
Slowly turning in a circle, I try to spot her, find the mesmerizing piece of mesh I’ve somehow become obsessed with, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Strolling back to the pathway while still surveilling, I catch a glimpse of something bright pink and sprint towards it. I notice the same guy who’s always with her, helping a blonde woman into the backseat of a car, and my hope is restored. Because she is the only girl I’ve ever seen wear tutus all the time, it has to be her.