Recharged

by Lulu Pratt

  She laughs and slaps my shoulder before handing me off to my parents.

  “We’re so proud of you,” my dad says, enclosing me in one of his bear hugs. “I knew your constant tinkering around in the kitchen would lead to something amazing, and now here you are.”

  Mom peels Dad off me so she can get her turn, and her hug is just as warm and comforting as it was when I was a little girl. Her Chanel perfume is subtle, and it brings back such fond memories of us cooking together when I was younger.

  “You look like an angel,” she says. “I’m so happy we made it back in the country in time to see you graduate.”

  “Me too,” I say. “I wasn’t so sure you two would make it based on all the travel delays.”

  “There’s no way we were going to miss this,” says Dad.

  Mom smiles and pushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “He’s right, you know. He even threatened to charter a plane and fly it himself if things didn’t start progressing.”

  “Damn right,” says Dad. “Nothing was going to stand in the way of us seeing our baby girl crush another one of her goals.”

  “Wow,” I say. “I’m just glad you didn’t have to dust off your pilot’s license, so you both made it here in one piece.”

  I kiss Mom on the cheek and watch as she walks over with my Dad to join Rachel at the table I’ve reserved for my guests.

  Last but certainly not least, Asher stands there with his hands in his pockets as Jacob lays in his stroller beside him. I know in an instant Asher’s playing with his lucky paperclip as Jacob finally crashes for his midday nap.

  Asher opens his arms and welcomes me with a warm embrace.

  “Nervous?” I ask. “I know you were fiddling with that paperclip in your pocket.”

  He laughs and plants a soft kiss on the crown of my head. “I’d be a fool to not be nervous. This is only my third time meeting your parents in person.”

  I laugh and squeeze him tightly in my arms. “You’ve talked to them dozens of times,” I giggle. “They don’t bite. Well, my mom doesn’t. I can’t speak for my dad.”

  Asher chuckles again before leaning down to give me a kiss. His lips are just as soft and smooth as the first time we kissed. “I’m positive your dad will bite if necessary. It’s clear to me that you get your looks from your mom and that fiery attitude from your dad.”

  I sigh and wrap my arm around his as we make our way to the table, the nanny we’ve hired following close behind with the stroller carrying Jacob. “I can’t argue with you there, but Dad is ten times worse than me.”

  We stop at a narrow end table as I grab a menu for Asher. “Everything is so good, but I’m especially proud of the recipe I created for the main course.”

  “You should be,” he boasts. “You should definitely be proud of everything you’ve accomplished over this last year. You set a goal, and then you knocked it out of the water. I love watching you do what you enjoy the most.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you,” I say, turning to face him.

  It’s true, Asher has been a major part of my support team over the last year. He offered to take care of everything so I could focus solely on school, and that act of kindness has been a major help. While I couldn’t accept the offer outright, insisting on continuing my care for Jacob, I certainly couldn’t have made my dream come true without my full-time nanny, who puts me to shame with her extensive experience. She’s allowed me to focus on my schooling while enjoying my evenings with both of my men.

  “Nonsense,” says Asher. “I’ve spent enough time with you to know how strong, smart and resilient you are. Since I’ve met you, I’ve watched you excel at everything you put your mind to. Your cooking skills were already there long before we met, so you most certainly could have done it without me.”

  I smile and kiss him again. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” I say. “All of those late-nights with Jacob mean the world to me. Plus, I basically made you my live-in guinea pig, forcing you to try all my new recipes.”

  Asher rolls his eyes and hands me a glass of Champagne off the tray of the passing waiter. “Yes, Jade, raising our son and tasting your delicious creations was so hard on me,” he responds with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

  We laugh and I take a sip of the Champagne. It’s delicious, and I make a mental note to ask Ray where he got it from.

  He definitely rolled out the red carpet for our graduation. Everything is so beautiful and all-round picture perfect.

  “I know I keep saying it, but I can’t get over how proud I am of you,” says Asher.

  “Aww, thanks babe. I forgot to tell you that Bradley picked me to be his mentee. Monday is my first day officially working as a chef.”

  “See,” says Asher. “That’s exactly what I mean. Every time I blink, you do something amazing. Who would have ever thought our dinner date would lead here?”

  I set my Champagne flute on the table and wrap my arms around Asher’s waist. “I never would have thought that night would ultimately lead me here, but I’m glad it did. So, either way it goes, I owe you big time, Mr. Jordan.”

  Asher kisses my forehead and steps back from my embrace. “There’s that ‘Mr. Jordan’ thing again,” he says.

  I giggle and fold my arms across my chest. “You know why I say it. I can’t help myself.”

  “I know you can’t, but let’s try something a little different. Do you know what sounds better than hearing Mr. Jordan?”

  “No, what?”

  I suddenly wonder if he is playing with his paperclip. Why would he be nervous?

  “Mrs. Jordan,” he says. Asher takes another step back, reaches into his pocket to retrieve a tiny blue box, and drops down on one knee.

  For a second my heart stops, and time completely slows down. Everything around me is happening in slow motion and my eyes fill with tears. I’m not sure if I’m dreaming or if everybody else sees what I’m witnessing, so I turn around to check. My father has his arm wrapped around my mom as she cradles Jacob in her arms, while Rachel gives me a thumbs up as she points her camera in my face.

  The room has gone silent and suddenly all eyes are on me. Asher coughs a couple of times as I whip my head around to face him.

  “This journey with you has been an exciting one since the first day we met. We’ve shared so many wonderful moments together, and I want to keep sharing moments with you by my side as my wife. You’ve been everything I could hope for — a generous and loving partner, a wonderful mother to our son, and an ambitious and beautiful woman on your own. I don’t deserve you, Jade, I never have. But I’ve always loved and adored you and I never want that to change. Jade Sinclair, will you marry me?”

  He pops open the box to reveal a diamond so large I’ll need to do finger exercises just to wear it.

  “Yes,” I say, my voice laced with emotion.

  Asher smiles and slips the ring on my finger, and I all but tackle him to the ground, smothering him with kisses. I’m overwhelmed by the wave of emotions taking over my body, and it takes me a few seconds to remember we are in a room full of people. We get to our feet and smile at our onlookers before I reach for Jacob.

  “Well, that’s definitely one way to end a graduation and it’s the first proposal to take place in our formal dining area. This moment couldn’t have happened to a better woman. Jade, you’re phenomenal and I wish you and Asher the very best. Let’s raise our glasses in honor of the happy couple. Congratulations, you two!” Ray raises his glass excitedly.

  I wipe the tears from my eyes, careful not to get any mascara on my crisp white jacket. “You have made me the happiest woman in the world,” I softly whisper to Asher.

  He gently grabs my chin as we share a passionate, yet sensual kiss. “The pleasure is all mine. I’m the one getting the better bargain in this deal. Like Ray said, you are absolutely phenomenal, and I can’t wait to make you my wife. That is, if you can get used to being called Mrs. Jordan.”

  I marvel at my ring and the
n look up into my new fiancé’s eyes. “I most certainly can.”

  ***

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  Please keep reading for more stories.

  Relentless Pursuit

  I won’t rest until I have her.

  Every inch.

  When I catch Ava upstairs in my mansion, I barely notice her amber eyes widening with fear…

  Not with my cock stiffening in my pants.

  All I can think about is taking her into my bedroom and giving her the welcome she deserves.

  Before I have the chance, she flees.

  But those moments with her were like a drug.

  I’m hooked. I have to find her.

  So, I do.

  Turns out she’s a life coach.

  Suddenly my life needs coaching, 24/7.

  With every minute that passes, the chemistry between us gets stronger.

  But for some reason she’s resisting me.

  Resisting us.

  I won’t give up. There’s something in her eye when she says my name.

  I know she wants me.

  First, I’ll find out why she’s resisting me.

  Then I’ll make her mine.

  *** A steamy STANDALONE contemporary romance with a smoking hot hero. No cliffhanger, no cheating and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.***

  Chapter 1

  Ava

  “Would you just come on,” Petra nags me for the hundredth time.

  She’s always ready before me, and never lets it go unnoticed. We became roommates a little over a year ago, which has been awesome for my social life. Although she’s four years older than me, Petra often feels like a little sister.

  We met several years ago after being enrolled in a few classes together at UCLA, then set up a life-coaching practice jointly and then moved in together when we realized our leases were ending the same month. We spent so much time with one another already, it made just sense.

  It’s the third time this week she’s pulled me out to an event, when I’d rather curl up in bed with a glass of wine, binge watching crime documentaries on Netflix. I guess I’m a bit of a stereotypical only child, nearly always choosing to be by myself as opposed to being in a crowded nightclub.

  “I knew I would come in here and find you like this,” Petra sighs, eyeing me through the reflection of my vanity mirror. Her gray contacts make her look exotic, or so she says. In my opinion, they only make her look older, but I learned the hard way not to attempt to separate her from her false grays.

  “Like what?” I snap, knowing full well what she’ll say. Sometimes, being best friends allows us to read each other’s attitudes with ease.

  “You’re ready, Ava! What am I waiting for?” She shrieks so loud I cringe. Her mouth is only inches from my ear, yet she’s using her party voice as if there’s already music to yell over.

  “I’m finishing my mascara,” I lie. I had completed my make-up about half an hour ago, but not wanting to go out was a good enough reason to delay our departure as long as possible.

  Just then, Petra’s phone vibrates, and she smirks, looking at the screen.

  “Look at you, grinning like a guilty kid. Is that Jacob?” I ask, peeking over her shoulder, but she hides the phone before I can even catch a glimpse.

  “No, not Jacob. He’s so last week,” she says in a mock valley girl accent.

  Petra has been my guide into the strange world of the city of angels. She was raised here, and so it all seems normal to her. Coming from a small town just outside Bakersfield, I’m not used to the fast pace, or the ever-changing trends, of such a big city.

  In my hometown, there’s one diner that’s been there my whole life, and when you want to go out to eat, it’s the only place to go. In LA, there’s a new restaurant springing up every day, and at least twice a month Petra drags me to a grand opening of the new “it” place. I’m still struggling to get used to it all even though I have been here for years.

  “So then who is it?” I wonder, still trying to peek at her phone.

  “It’s nothing like that, Ava. Can you please just come on?” She deflects, focusing on my procrastination to avoid answering the question.

  “Okay, I just need to pack my purse,” I say, walking into my large closet with my lip gloss and mascara in hand.

  Reaching to my top shelf, I pick a black leather clutch purse to match my bandage dress and stilettos. Petra would usually call this a boring outfit, but tonight she seems to be too engrossed in her phone to be the judgmental sister I never wanted.

  “You don’t need all this,” Petra groans as she watches me picking items from my regular purse to pack into my tiny clutch.

  “I need my wallet, Petra,” I roll my eyes, annoyed by her exaggerated need to hurry.

  “No, you don’t. When do you ever pay for things with me?” She tilts her head while resting her hand on her hip before adding, “just bring your license, and you shouldn’t even need that.”

  She’s right. Whenever I go out with Petra, I never have to worry about anything. It’s like she has a key to the city, the way she instantly gains access to every major event. She once told me there’s a secret society of bartenders and doormen, and that every kid from the city serves two years in the nightlife to create their own network. From the stories I’ve overheard, I know she was popular as a VIP waitress during her undergrad years at UCLA.

  With Petra watching me like a hawk, I throw my license, a couple of bills, lip gloss and a pack of gum into the clutch before giving her the “I’m ready, stop hassling me,” glare.

  After quickly typing something into her phone, Petra nods and walks straight out of my room without another word. Following behind like an orderly mentee, I make my way into Petra’s white S-Class Mercedes Benz. The car is too flashy for me even on a normal day. On nights like this one, when she insists on having the top down, I scoff at her desperate ploy for attention.

  Petra doesn’t come from money, far from it actually, but Los Angeles isn’t about what you have, but rather what you look like you have. My best friend plays that game well, and always makes sure her appearance is top notch, regardless of how many late notices she receives for all her unpaid bills.

  “So, where are we going again?” I ask before she turns up the music as she always does. I can’t remember if this is an opening of some sort, or just another club.

  “Wherever the city takes us,” she smirks before blaring the music so loud I instinctively cover my ears, which makes her burst into laughter.

  Looking over, it’s impossible to remain mad at her, and giggles pour from me as I watch her speed through the busy streets of West Hollywood. As the city passes us by, I still find it hard to believe I live here, after dreaming and working hard to make it happen.

  Growing up so close to LA strangely made it more distant. I always felt the need to be someone different to live in a city filled with such glamor, but when my high school counselor introduced me to a program to attend UCLA, I jumped at the opportunity to leave.

  Petra’s heading to Hollywood, so I figure we must be going to a nightclub. A feeling of dread rushes over me. Not that I love either, but grand openings are less pretentious than nightclubs. There aren’t even lines to the parties here. Everyone just crowds around a man with a clipboard, pleading their case to get in. It’s pathetic, but also Petra’s favorite pastime.

  Before I can guess which club she’s going to, she rears off and continues straight to the 101, leaving me confused.

  “You’re going to the valley?” I yell over the music, the disbelief apparent in my tone.

  If there’s one thing Petra hates, it’s the valley. Whenever we have to leave Los Angeles County, she acts like we’re traveling to Siberia.

  Petra doesn’t answer, although I’m sure she’s heard me. Withou
t a word, she makes a left, heading up the narrow streets leading to the Hollywood Hills.

  “The party’s up here?” I mutter, the loud music drowning out my confusion.

  “I just wanted to drive through and see the homes,” Petra answers, although I wasn’t speaking to her more than I was remarking on her strange decision.

  We both enjoy a random drive through a beautiful neighborhood for daydream inspiration, but rarely do these whimsical drives take place on the way to an event. When I hear her phone ding to alert her of a text message, I watch her smirk while she checks the phone before turning down another street.

  “Ooh, look. Some rich asshole is having a party,” she chuckles after turning down the music.

  A young man in a black and white tuxedo comes to the car, looking over his shoulder. The entire scene is a bit strange, but Petra doesn’t seem rattled and I try to take my cues from her.

  “Johnny, get over here!” She yells at the young man before turning to me, “I dated his older brother. We’re so going to this party,” she whispers.

  “Petra! What’s up?” He asks, digging into his suit pocket before pulling out a thin white joint and a lighter.

  “What do I need to get in there?” Petra nods to the large house at the end of the cul-de-sac. There are so many people moving about around the house, it looks like a nightclub.

  “Just one of these,” Johnny grins as he pulls out a red ticket from his back pocket.

  “Sweet,” Petra takes the ticket from him so quickly I could barely get a glimpse of it.

  “Oh, and you’ve gotta let me park the Benz. It’s strictly valet,” he says before sparking the joint and inhaling deeply as he backs away from the car, making room for Petra to open her door.

  “Come on,” Petra turns to me, speaking sternly like she always does when she thinks I might mess up something.

  Shocked by the quick turn of events, I scan my seat as fast as possible, hoping not to leave anything behind, because I don’t even know if I’ll leave with Petra. Whenever we go to events it’s a toss up if I even see her again once we make our way past security.