by Shey Stahl
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyrights
Dedication
Quote
Part I
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Part II
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Part III
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-seven
The End
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Sneek peek at The Trainer
WARNING: This book is not suitable for anyone under the age of eighteen. It contains graphic sexual encounters, both consensual and non-consensual.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, dead or living, is coincidental.
Published in the United States of America
© Shey Stahl 2015
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the author.
Cover Design:
LM Creations
Copy Editor:
Hot Tree Editing
Proofreaders:
Janet Johnson
Barb Nejman
Ashley Schow
Interior Formatting:
A Designs
For my readers and girls for making me push through something so different.
Some people are destined for greater things in life.
Just by looking at them, you can see their soul in their eyes.
I’ve seen a soul so beautiful that the prettiest of sunrises couldn’t even come close to the light. The depth, security, emotion, the will, and need to sacrifice his life for something he believed in.
Those are the people destined for a beautiful life.
And you can see all that just by looking into their eyes.
I’m going to tell you a story. I don’t do this often so listen up.
It’s a good one.
You see that girl standing in front of the display case arranging cupcakes?
You know, the one who has more frosting on her fingers than the actual cupcakes?
That’s not me.
That’s Stevie, my best girl these days.
Now, you see that girl to her left, the one wearing the engagement ring and the bump in her belly?
That’s me.
You see that smile on my face and the glow to my skin?
It wasn’t always that way.
My light, depth, security and emotion, I didn’t know any of that existed.
You see that scar across my throat? The puffed edges and the purple hint noting its freshness, it’s a reminder that it wasn’t long along I lost my light completely.
That mark, that’s my story. How it got there. How that scar is far deeper than flesh.
It’s embedded so deep in my heart now that nothing in my life will ever be the same.
It’s a story of finding myself in the least likely situation.
Isn’t that what any good story is about?
A story of Awakening.
It started with a girl a few years back. Not me. She was someone I didn’t know.
She was young, pretty dark hair with her face hidden behind the hood of her jacket. I saw her in the darkest of alley’s staring down at her phone in her hand, crying, knees pulled up.
There’s a moment I think to myself, leave her be.
There’s another when I think, no, you should see if she’s okay.
“Are you okay?” I ask, taking a tenative step in her direction.
“No, I’m not. I can’t get a hold of my brother.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take one more step and raise my phone, still keeping my distance. “Can I call a cab for you?”
She stands, abruptly and starts walking in the other direction. “No. I’ll take the bus.”
That was the last I saw of her, but you see, sometimes we’re part of something bigger.
Sometimes things happen to us, or around us that give us a sense of greater accomplishment.
It was a dark a stormy night.
Nope.
It was a beautiful day in the heart of a Northwest Summer. Morning sun peeking through the window, rays of light against sweet cream frosting.
It was then my life changed.
That day.
I think it was a Thursday.
As humans, we need a lot of things in life to feel alive. Most of us were missing one of many. Love, sex, money, happiness, food, sex¸ desire, lust, flirting, family…and um, well, sex.
Could you tell which one of those I was missing?
I was missing most of those in my life.
Most importantly, the sex. I could use a good fuck.
Not just any fuck, like, forget my name, can’t walk or pull-a-muscle type fuck.
But I also didn’t want a one-night stand. At twenty-six, I was past the one-nighters and wanting a solid relationship. One where I didn’t have to pay his rent or wonder if the dude needed a drug test just to get a job at McDonalds. I wanted stability.
“Do you think I could fit this entire cupcake in my mouth?”
Stevie, that girl trying to fit a cupcake in her mouth, she wouldn’t be what you called stability.
She’d be more like funability. If that were a word.
Accountability, also not a word you could associate Stevie with. Unless of course you counted showing up to work at noon when your shift started at ten accountability.
Stevie did.
You would think she would show up on time considering we lived together, but nope. I was in the middle of looking for an apartment, one a little closer to the shop and was staying with her. Stevie was looking to move back home to save money. I loved Stevie, but living with her was kind of making me hate her annoying adorable self.
“I think if anyone could, it’d be you, Stevie.”
She considered it, just before shoving the entire Cherry Bomb cupcake, lump of frosting and all, in her mouth.
Sugar-coated chocolate lips puckered into a kiss planted on my cheek. “It’s good.”
“It better be. Took me two weeks to perfect that recipe.”
“You did good.” Taking her wild mess of thick dark curly hair, she pulled it back into a bun. That was when I knew she was serious about testing the samples. “I love that one.” She moaned, licking the frosting from full lips. “Should be the flavor of the week.”
Some days, I was glad Stevie was the taste tester and not me. You really don’t understand how few hours a week you have to workout when you own a cupcake store.
My mom used to tell her brother, who sold weed for a living, don’t smoke your stash. Okay, might be a bad example, but I believed the same rules applied in a sense. Only for me, it wasn’t because I was smoking up my own stash. It was in the best interest of m
y jeans that may not fit.
Stevie had a better metabolism so she was the tester.
Taking a napkin from the counter, she swiped it over her lips, staring down at the half-eaten cupcake and glass of milk beside it.
This particular cupcake was made with dark chocolate cake with a cherry in the center. I topped that with a cherry frosting and dark chocolate ganache drizzled over the top.
My dream had always been to own my own cupcake bakery. Never much into cakes themselves, I enjoyed the pleasure these small treats provided. I believed the best things in life came in small treats.
Clearly that only applied to cupcakes. With men it was a completely different story.
Speaking of which, I was on a dry spell. Kind of happened when you owned your own business at twenty-six. Working fourteen hours a day didn’t lend well to any type of social life.
This was why I wanted to get fucked.
“We need to call that guy.”
Wait...what?
“What guy?” I looked over at Stevie, who was staring at the wall with a hole in it.
“The one who was supposed to be here to finish the addition your uncle never finished. It’s just a bunch of never-finished work.”
Laughing, my stare shifted to the hole in the wall behind us. “That’s a mouthful.”
Remember that uncle who smoked his own stash?
Yeah, well, never hire him to do work either.
Apparently, smoking his own stash meant that he would take $500 of your money, cut a hole in the wall and called that an addition.
Maybe he was referring to the addition to my heating bill trying to heat a room with a two-foot hole in the wall.
“What was his name?”
“I think it was Josh, or Jason…or maybe it was Jeb?”
“Oh right, it’s JD Construction, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Reaching inside the till, I retrieved the business card I was given by the owner of Mercato’s, who hired them last year to do some work.
Stevie and I wanted to expand The Cupcake Factory and add a seating area and a back patio, which the hole was a start, but I needed a legit contractor this time. “I’ll give him a call tonight and arrange for them to come this week.”
“Call him now.” Stevie handed me the phone on the counter. “You forgot last time.”
Taking it from her, I rolled my eyes. “Don’t mock me.”
“JD Construction, this is Marisa, how can I help you?” a woman answered with a perky, but with a certain amount of business to her tone.
“Hello, I’m Logan Gentry with The Cupcake Factory and I’m looking for someone to work on the addition we need here.”
The woman on the other line went on to ask me questions, many of which I wasn’t sure of the answers. I knew we had a hole in the wall. That was about it.
“I’ll send Josh out this afternoon and he’ll work up an estimate for what you want to do. Sound okay?”
That was easy. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
“What’s your location?”
“I’m down on the water by Mercato’s. Do you know where that is?”
“Yeah, Josh will know. Thanks.”
Stevie and I were caught up in our morning rush. Surprisingly, people wanted sweets any time of the day, but around mid-morning seemed to be the time of day we were the busiest. Usually mom’s picking up for a kid’s birthday party or husbands wanting to surprise daughters and wives with a special treat. Those were my favorites. I wanted a man to buy me a cupcake. Damn it.
The sweet notion that they cared was touching, and I helped by giving them something to be proud of.
Ever since I was a little girl, I loved cupcakes. The sweetness, the delicate fluffy sponge cake topped with creamy frosting. I also knew I wanted to own my own business, something where I could enjoy going to work and it not feel like I was living for a career I didn’t love. So I went to college, obtained a degree in business administration and here I was three years out of college, running a successful cupcake shop in Downtown Olympia.
AROUND TEN THAT morning, a man showed up in a red Chevy truck and parked in front of the shop. The truck was lifted, but not obnoxiously where you figured he was making up for the size of his dick. It was tasteful. The words JD Construction were on the side in white letters with a black line underneath of it. I appreciated the simplicity of the logo. It made me think the company was straightforward.
With my hands covered in frosting, I watched closely as the man inside of the truck stepped out.
“Please tell me I get to watch him work?” Stevie noted, drooling right along with me.
He most certainly had my attention when I caught a glimpse of him. Clearly my knowledge of what today’s construction workers looked—you know like those alongside the road stopping me so they could repair holes in the concrete—and this guy, were not even close to being accurate.
Wearing a grey polo shirt with an embroidered logo, dark jeans and sunglasses, he stepped inside my shop with an iPad in hand.
Stevie sighed and rested her head on my shoulder. “He’s dreamy.”
And then he removed his sunglasses.
If this was a movie scene, it would be similar to watching Magic Mike when Channing Tatum came on stage with that white T-shirt and those combat pants and you saw him dance for the first time.
Only this guy was real.
“Can I speak with Ms. Gentry?” he asked when he was standing before us, low-toned and manly. Two things I’d been deprived of for a long time.
Last time I had sex was months ago. MONTHS.
Good sex?
Hmmm. Go back even further than that. If ever.
Stevie bumped my arm with hers when I didn’t say anything.
Shit. Speak.
Nodding, I held out my sticky hand and then retracted it before he could shake it. “Whoops, sorry about that.” I smiled. “Let me just get this frosting off my hands.”’
The man laughed, the sound panty melting. So cliché to say, but it had that perfect amount of roughness to it if that made sense. I bet if he were to whisper, it sends shivers down your spine.
At the sound of his voice, my eyes widened at my lack of skill around men.
Without turning around, I moved to the sink, washing the frosting from my hands. “You’re from JD Construction, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I glanced over my shoulder when he spoke, dazed at the sound. “I’m Josh Daniel, the owner.”
That voice. The deepness, the sense of pride and calmness he delivered with just those words…
Take me to bed.
Jesus. Focus, Logan. Don’t spread ‘em so easily.
Turning, I reached for the towel beside the sink to dry my hands and peered up at him. Blue eyes shined, complemented by his blondish brown hair that looked a little sun-bleached from the warm summer we were in the midst of.
Josh reached for my hand again, brows raised slightly. “And you’re Ms. Gentry?”
It was then—with his hand extended—I noticed the tattoo on his arm of a skull with smoke coming out of its mouth. Around that were flames, darkened, and words. Squinting, I read them as “Halfway to Hell.”
Hmm. Hot. Extremely HOT!
I loved a man with ink. I myself had a few and seemed to be drawn to anyone who had them as well.
Josh cleared his throat, a dimple on his left cheek present when he smiled, waiting for me to reply.
Crap. What did he say? Your name. He asked your name.
“Oh, right, yes,” I did my own clearing of my throat, only it sounded as if I was choking. “I’m Logan.”
Nice. You can’t even clear your throat in a lady-like manner.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He winked.
Really, dude?
I found his down fall.
Cheesy one liners.
Or maybe it was meant to be cheesy to break the ice a little because when Stevie burst out laughing, Josh laughed too. And if I thought his chuckle from earlier wa
s sexy, it had nothing on his actual laugh. The way his eyes wrinkled around the corners made me smile. Blue eyes invited you in, made you feel like you could trust him but I knew better.
Despite that, I offered my own smile.
“And a pretty smile.”
“You’re pushing it,” I teased back, motioning for him to follow me.
I’d heard just about every one liner out there in college. I was a cute girl. I could admit that comfortably without feeling like I was being conceited. With light brown hair, natural golden highlights I rarely ever fussed with, and freckles over my entire face, it lent well to the wide green eyes and lopsided smile I had, thanks to the dad I never met.
I heard all the one liners around. Including the ever hideous, “Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”
So unoriginal.
“I was only trying to lighten you up,” Josh said, following behind me, more than likely watching my every move.
When I twisted around to face him at the end of the small hall, I was surprised to see he wasn’t looking at me at all. He was staring at the walls, the construction of the building and its structure.
Maybe there was more to him than just a hot body and a cool tattoo.
“What happened there?” he asked, gesturing to the hole in the wall.
“Don’t hire a drug dealer to do construction.”
With a half-smile, Josh ran his hand down the side of the wall I wanted to knock out and create a backyard patio for eating. “What is it that you’re wanting to do here? Marisa mentioned you wanted to add a patio?”
To my left was the small kitchen which I wanted to expand about five feet. “I need more room in here. It’s really cramped when we have the bigger orders to get done. I feel bad for my baker, Kat, she has no room in here. I also want a place where people can come and eat dessert after a date. Something romantic, you know.” I gave a nod to the back wall that I had lined with black and white photographs of the day I opened this shop two weeks after graduating from the University of Washington. “I was thinking if we knocked this wall out, expanded five feet, it would give me plenty of room for a bigger kitchen and then I could have a door out here to patio dining.”
Josh nodded to everything I was saying, the iPad in his hand out as he drew up a rough diagram of the building with just his finger and typing in dimensions.