by LL Collins
Copyright © LL Collins 2014
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by Kari Ayasha at Cover to Cover Designs
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Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
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No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contact Author LL Collins
www.authorllcollins.com
Twitter: @authorllcollins
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Past
Prologue
Present
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
Epilogue
Reaching Rachel Playlist
Acknowledgements
About the Author
This book contains difficult topics that may be hard for some readers and is suggested for a mature audience only. It contains strong language, sexual situations, abuse, and other content that may be problematic for some to read. Please keep this in mind when choosing to read this book.
If you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, please seek help. Contact The National Domestic Violence Hotline at www.thehotline.org or call 1-800-799-7233 for further information
This book is dedicated to my husband Cameron, who puts up with many nights of me glued to my computer, ignoring everything and everyone. Thanks for always believing in my dream, and giving me the freedom to do it.
She sat against the outside wall of her house, the dingy porch covering her from view, her head in her hands while sobs wracked her entire body. Her long red hair covered her like a curtain, shielding her from the cruelty of the outside world. It was like she was in a cocoon, but knew that it wouldn’t help keep her safe from this pain. She knew he was leaving, she could feel the loss of him like a limb was missing. A moment ago he had been standing there, watching her, love pouring from him like water rushing down a waterfall, but now, he was walking away. She did this. She was twenty one years old, but she knew that she would never love anyone the way she loved him again in her life. But, she had ruined it, just like everything else. Her innate way of screwing everything up had just made the man of her dreams walk away from her forever. She couldn’t tell him. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t let him ruin his career over her. So she let him think the absolute worst of her.
Hearing the engine of his motorcycle rev up, she couldn’t watch him pull away. She knew exactly what he looked like sitting on that big beast of a machine, his sexy, muscular legs straddling the body like it was a woman, his strong arms gripping the handlebars tightly, making his muscles contract. His dark tousled hair would be covered by the helmet, as would his dark blue eyes, but nothing could mask the pull, the draw of this man. The tattoo hidden under his short sleeve shirt would peek out as the wind rustled over his body, a tattoo she had memorized over the last two years. She had run her fingers over it, her tongue, and laid her head on it to fall asleep more times than she could count. It was the only tattoo he had, a tribal design that went around his defined bicep. He had gotten it one night on a dare from some of the guys, and she loved it. Most of the time, he was a clean cut professional, driving a police car and walking around with a stern face. She knew him differently, the edgy, passionate, love of her life. Devin Putnam. Just his name caused a reaction in her body. Four years older than her but her soul mate just the same. Their relationship had been combustible, passionate, and all consuming, but the fire had been instantly extinguished the moment he pulled away, riding that reverberating motorcycle. She knew one thing for an absolute fact. Though he had loved her just as much as she had loved him, once the rumble of that engine faded into the night, he would never come back to her.
Rachel sat at the bar, twirling the stick in her martini, watching the olive make ripples in the clear liquid, ignoring the noise and ruckus of the dive she was sitting in. Bert’s. From the outside, the place looked like every other bar in every other small town across the country. Neon blinking lights attracted all walks of life in for a drink of whatever would help you forget, help you celebrate, relax from a long week, or enjoy friends. Whether the people were happy, sad, in love, angry, or a combination of all of those, you could find them here. Drinking, playing pool, dancing, picking up dates or one-night stands, or enjoying time with friends.
None of her friends came here, and that’s why she did when she needed to be alone. The neighborhood it was in didn’t warrant young mid-twenties single girls to frequent it. She didn’t come here to meet men, or to have fun with friends. She came here to drink away the memory of him, every year on this day. September 3rd. She would never forget that day as long as she lived. The days before it had been bad enough—life altering, devastating blows to what had been a happy, lively girl with a bright future. It had been five years, but that didn’t stop her from thinking of this day, dreading it as the days marked off her calendar towards it.
Devin. She had no idea even where he was right now, and hadn’t ever since that night that he had driven away into the sunset, leaving her behind for good. She only knew that after he had left, he had taken a job in Miami, about as far as he could get from their Jacksonville suburb without actually leaving the state. She had been a college junior when everything crashed to the ground with them, and she couldn’t hardly get out of bed, much less go to class to be an occupational therapist. So, she quit, failed—just like everything in her life. She had moved too, to the west coast of Florida where her parents owned a beach house. She left everyone behind that she cared about and shut the door. Her parents were disappointed in her, she had no siblings, and the love of her life was gone. She was really good at pushing everyone away. But it had been necessary. Now she was an office manager instead of a therapist, a casual fling instead of the love of someone’s life, and a friend that no one knew the truth about. As far as she was concerned, the old Rachel was dead and gone. No one in her new life would know about her old life. The old Rachel died that night in the beach house, and was buried the night Devin walked away from her forever.
What she was good at was attracting men. She was beautiful and she knew it. She was tall, 5’8”, and naturally slender, though she did use kickboxing and Zumba to keep herself in tip top shape. She had long, wavy auburn hair and porcelain skin, so smooth and ivory, she looked like a china doll. She had large emerald green eyes with long eyelashes. She was every man’s fantasy, and she used it to her advantage. She always had the control—never again would she give a man that power over her. What she didn’t do, however, was get involved with a man for very long. She had been in love once—and no one would ever measure up to him. But what she had been through had taken that away. Most men were good with that—they liked her for their own reasons, and when she was ready to move on, they did as we
ll.
But, she was lonely. She had Kayley, one of her best friends. She had met her when she got a job as the office manager at Loving Hands Therapy Center. She and Kayley had hit it off right away, and she still loved her friendship. However, Kayley had a full time family now, married with three children. As much as Rachel wanted to identify with that, she couldn’t. She never would. And Emily, who she had met through Kayley, was also one of her best friends, but she too had a husband and kids. Rachel had her share of “partying” friends, but she was feeling unfulfilled by everything in her life, and this day didn’t help.
Downing her drink, she felt someone slide into the barstool next to her. Signaling the bartender for another, she could tell that whoever was sitting next to her was looking at her, but she wasn’t here for that. She had no intention of having a conversation with anyone except the demons in her own head. As another drink was deposited in front of her, she heard a deep, rumbling voice telling the bartender to put her drink on his tab.
Swearing under her breath, she turned to the intruding stranger to her right to tell him where to shove it when her throat caught. He was looking at her, and as she turned, her face was close to him. Too close. But damn, he was gorgeous. Honey colored hair fell in waves across his head, barely touching his ears. Large brown eyes met hers and crinkled up in the corners when he smiled at her. She just as quickly took in that he was wearing a form fitting shirt and jeans that showed her just how nice his body was. He was not a normal patron to this bar, she could tell. He was either a tourist or just moved here and was probably sorry he found this hole. Maybe she could revisit her thinking that she could never hook up with anyone from this bar.
She smiled at him, crossing her legs. His eyes followed the motion, and she knew that if she wanted him, she’d have him. She was wearing a short black skirt and a sparkly tank top, and he apparently approved.
“Hello,” he said, with a slight southern drawl. Not from here, for sure, she thought. “I’m Justin.” He put his hand out to shake hers, and her eyes dropped to his hand. Large and manly, strong like he did something for work with his hands. Also devoid of a wedding ring, which was good. She didn’t do commitment, but she didn’t do cheaters.
Flipping her long hair over her shoulder, she turned on her charm. Holding out her hand and grasping his firmly, she purred, “Why hello, Justin. You have to be from out of town or you would’ve never stepped foot in this neighborhood tonight.”
Justin looked around, then settled his eyes back on hers, still holding her small hand in his massive one. His hand was warm and felt a little rough. Definitely did something with his hands. “Well, from the way I see it, I sat myself next to the hottest woman in the entire bar, so I’d say I’m in the right place.”
Rachel laughed. Oh, he was smooth. She could definitely see he could be a plaything for a while. Taking her hand from his and tucking it between her legs, she eyed him flirtatiously. “Hmm, that was a good one. Where are you from, Justin? I know it isn’t Florida, with that accent.”
Justin smirked at her. “You haven’t even told me your name, sweetheart.”
Rachel pretended to be mulling over whether to give it to him or not, but she knew she would. He had her intrigued, that was for sure. Hell, he actually had her forgetting why she was in this shit hole in the first place, trying to drink her memories away. “Rachel.”
Justin’s dark eyes widened as he pointedly looked her up and down. “Rachel,” he rolled her name off his tongue, and just that slight twang in her name made her toes curl with desire. “What are you doing in a place like this?”
“Forgetting,” she answered simply, knowing he would ask but she wouldn’t give any more. She never did. To anyone.
Justin’s hand boldly touched her bare leg, and she inwardly shivered at his warm touch. She wouldn’t show him she was turned on, not here and not yet. “Why, I’m good at helping beautiful women forget. What a coincidence.” His voice was smooth, like butter, and she knew that he was exactly her type. Sexy, good looking, forward, and not wanting a commitment.
“I’m from Alabama, precious,” he drawled, his finger rubbing her leg in circles. “I just moved here for work. I’m a construction foreman.” She knew he had done something with his hands. Of course, now she could picture him in a hard hat, steel toed boots, and some tight jeans on that fine body, sweat running down his bare chest as he manhandled power tools. “So now, tell me about you.”
Rachel curled her lips up, watching Justin’s reaction at the seductive look on her face. “I’m an office manager. I live here. That’s about it.”
Justin laughed, his straight white teeth gleaming. “Why do I doubt that? I have the feeling there is a lot more to you than meets the eye. Starting with the real reason you would be in a dive like this tonight.” Rachel smiled, knowing she wouldn’t answer him but also feeling that he could see through her.
She downed her drink, standing up abruptly. Justin’s eyes followed her as she smoothed her skirt and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Coming?” She held out her hand and he took it. She led him to the dance floor, which was pumping top 20 pop music. It was funny, really, that a bar that looked like this played this music instead of hard rock or having a live band, but the makeshift dance floor was packed with bodies gyrating and rubbing against each other to the music. It obviously worked for them.
Squeezing through sweaty, scantily-clad bodies, Rachel began swaying her hips to the music, her hands running up Justin’s toned chest as he watched her, his eyes wide. She knew the effect she had on men. It was fun, a game she liked to play. Some may call her a tease, though if she was interested, she was anything but. Just don’t plan on pinning her down, both figuratively and literally. She was in control. Always.
Justin’s hands traveled to her hips, his eyes watching her with desire lacing them. Their bodies gyrated together to the music as she twirled and moved, knowing that she was having the intended effect on him. When he pressed up behind her, she knew it for sure. Holding her hair up with one hand to relieve some of the heat gathering on her neck, Justin leaned over and licked a trail down her damp neck. Goosebumps broke out on Rachel’s body, despite the humid, stifling air in the bar.
“You’re so hot,” he breathed into her ear, and she grinned, though he couldn’t see her. He was going to be a nice little bonus to her grief tonight. Who would’ve thought coming to Bert’s would end up in a new friend. She didn’t respond and he didn’t expect her to. A woman like Rachel knew what she looked like. Just like Justin knew he could turn heads just about everywhere he went, too.
She turned abruptly, standing up on her tiptoes so she could reach Justin’s ear. As he realized what she was doing, he bent down slightly. She was tall, but she still barely reached him. “How about you and I get out of here,” she started, her tongue running along the edge of his ear. Justin wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close as she could get, and rubbed against her slightly. “My place?” She pulled back and looked into his eyes, the deep brown of them so dark it was like looking into an abyss.
Justin crushed his mouth to hers, his full lips dragging hers into his mouth, his tongue massaging the inside of her mouth until she couldn’t stop the moan from escaping her. The man could kiss. He was essentially making love to her with his tongue. That thought created more shivers throughout her body as she thought of what he could do when they weren’t on the dance floor.
“Let’s go,” he grunted against her lips, their bodies still pressed together from top to bottom. “I’ll follow you?” Rachel turned and began walking, knowing he would follow. She walked out the door and to the parking lot, her heels crunching in the gravel.
Just as she reached her red sports car, a rumble of a motorcycle caused her heart to skip a beat. She wondered if she would ever hear the engine of one again without her eyes following, scanning to see if it could possibly be him. But, just as the thousands of other times she had frozen, watching a motorcycle, it wasn’t him. She knew he
wouldn’t be here anyway. He lived almost as far away as one could while still being in the same state. A heavyset man with long, greasy hair climbed off, and she turned away to see Justin watching her.
“You okay?” Justin asked, looking back at the motorcycle and then at her.
Rachel turned, plastering on her killer smile. “Of course,” she drawled, mimicking his southern accent. “I live over off of Sunset and 45th on the beach. You can follow me and park in guest parking.” She turned to open the door, then stopped. Justin was still standing there. “Oh, and just so we are clear—I don’t do sleep overs.”
Justin smirked, crossing his arms in front of him. She watched as his muscles flexed with the motion, and her mouth watered thinking about that shirt being on her floor. “No sleep overs?” He rubbed his chin with his fingers. “You may just be a girl after my own heart. Wham, bam, huh? Okay, pretty lady. It’s your circus. Lead the way.”
Rachel slid into the bucket seat, catching her eyes in the rear view mirror. For the one millionth time, she wished that things could’ve been different. That she could’ve been the person she was five years ago. That the night that maimed, killed, and buried the old Rachel would’ve never happened. That the days following would’ve been different. Who knows who she could’ve been? Maybe Mrs. Devin Putnam. Rachel Putnam, successful occupational therapist. Hell, maybe even a mom of a few of their little rugrats. The one thing she did know, though, was that she wouldn’t be where she was now.
Shaking herself, she forced her eyes away from the rearview mirror and started the engine. Her past was just that—behind her. She couldn’t look backwards anymore. And Justin was the one who was going to take it away from her this time. For tonight, she’d put Devin Putnam away and put Justin front and center. Until that didn’t work anymore, and then she would move on, like always.