by Lori Foster
“Hold up.” This sounded serious, so maybe a little privacy was in order. Taking her arm, he steered her over to a park bench, out of the glaring sunshine. He ignored onlookers. He especially ignored Noel trying to get his attention. “Now.” He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway. “What’s going on?”
She sucked in a very deep breath, then exhaled on a blurted, “I was wrong.”
Uneasiness cut into him, tightening his jaw. “About?”
“Being friends with benefits.”
Feeling lethal, and a little desperate, he reminded her, “You’re the one who insisted on those benefits.”
“I know!” She thrust out her hands. “But I can’t be just friends anymore.”
Getting a breath wasn’t easy, so he just narrowed his eyes and waited.
“Garrett,” she pleaded. “Don’t look like that. I realize there’s probably some right way to do this, but you know I was never any good at social etiquette.”
“Screw etiquette.” She didn’t need to pretty it up for him. He wanted her to say it so he could get started convincing her otherwise. “Just spit it out.”
“I’m messing this up so badly.” She took his hand. “I do want you for a friend, yes.”
Damn it. No way could he do that, not after being so much more.
“And sex, yes.”
Okay, wait.
“But...”
With his heart suddenly thundering, Garrett nudged her. “But?”
She winced. “Am I being too bold?”
“No.” Be bold, Zoey.
Behind them, Noel called out, “A little help here?”
He glanced back. Damn. Did everyone in Buckhorn want buttered corn? Looked like. Luckily, Amber strolled up to the booth just then. He saw Noel gesturing toward him, and he knew his sister would pitch in. When she sent him a thumbs-up, letting him know she had it covered, he nodded his gratitude.
Turning back to Zoey, he said, “Go on.”
Uncertainty darkened her eyes.
“Hey.” He smoothed her lips with his. “Remember, honey, you can tell me anything.” And one way or another, he’d work it out with her.
“Right.” Like a soldier, she came to attention and said quickly, “I care for you way beyond just being friends.”
Now that was more like it. Satisfaction brought him closer, but he needed to hear her say it. “Tell me how much.”
Her lips trembled. So did her small smile. She started to speak, but something beyond his shoulder caught her attention. She glanced there, then tipped her head for a longer look. “You know how I said I made two decisions?”
“Yeah.”
She stood. “I’m sorry, but I need to take care of that second one right now.”
No way. Halting her retreat, Garrett stood, too, followed her line of vision...and saw Carrie approaching. Damn it, not now.
Stiff and formal, Carrie stopped in front of him. She made a point of not looking at Zoey. “I knew you’d be here. I need to talk to you.”
Sympathy weighed on him, but he had no idea what he could tell her.
Zoey knew. Smiling gently, she stepped around him to face Carrie. “I was hoping to see you here.”
* * *
“I DON’T WANT to talk to you.”
Though Carrie tried to turn away, Zoey saw the heartache in her eyes. “I know you’re hurting.” Talking over the music wasn’t easy. The dancers had spilled from the stage to all around it.
Half urging, half pushing, she got Carrie to the bench they’d just vacated, then took her hand and didn’t let go.
Scowling, Carrie strained away from her. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t imagine losing a brother.”
That stalled Carrie’s animosity. “Gus is gone forever.”
“I know.” She’d been living with that fact for a very long time. “The thing is, Cody is still here.”
“I know.” She looked up at Garrett. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you—”
“He’s on the wrong path.” Zoey regained her attention by saying, “And you know it.”
She shook her head. “No, he just—”
“You might be the only family he has who knows it. He needs you, Carrie. He needs someone to care enough to not make excuses.”
Carrie blanched. “I don’t—”
“He needs you to start paying attention.”
Taking that like a slap, Carrie said, “I’m not responsible for what he did!”
“Just as I wasn’t responsible for what Gus did?”
When Carrie’s bottom lip quivered, Zoey patted her hand.
“Believe me, I wish I had it to do over. I would have called the sheriff before Gus left. I would have called you. I would have...I don’t know. Taken his keys.”
At that, Carrie shared a tearful laugh with Zoey, because they both knew that hadn’t been an option. For as long as she’d known him, Gus was a rage waiting to happen.
Taking the shared laugh as an opening, Zoey reached out for Carrie’s other hand, too. “Unfortunately, we don’t get do-overs. All we have is here and now, and your other brother, Cody, is here, now.”
Carrie whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”
Looking over her shoulder at Garrett, Zoey said, “I bet you have a few ideas.” She couldn’t be wrong about that.
He looked surprised to be drawn in, but reassured her by agreeing. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
Zoey beamed at him. “I knew you would.”
“Yeah, you know me pretty well.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t guarantee anything, but it’s possible we could convince the sheriff to let Cody do some community time at the fire station. I wouldn’t go easy on him. He needs to apologize to Zoey and rebuild the shed he burned. He needs to learn there are repercussions to the things he does.”
“And,” Zoey added, “he needs to understand the harm fire can do. It’s not something he can play with.”
Garrett nodded. “It won’t be a picnic, but it’d be better than time in juvie.”
Tears welled in Carrie’s eyes. “You’d do that for him?”
So pleased that she almost couldn’t contain herself, Zoey said, “Of course he would.”
Garrett drew Zoey closer. “You’d have to convince your parents, and Carrie, we both know that’s not going to be easy.”
More resolute now, Carrie said, “Somehow I’ll take care of it.” She swallowed hard and admitted, “They mostly don’t want to be bothered.”
“He has you,” Zoey told her. “Right?”
“Yes.” Two shuddering breaths later, she managed a small smile and said to Zoey, “I don’t understand you.”
“You don’t need to, as long as you understand Cody.”
This time it was Carrie who squeezed Zoey’s hands. “Thank you.”
Content with how that had gone, Zoey watched her walk away.
Until Garrett tipped up her chin. “You were saying something about decisions?”
Wow, he’d jumped right back to that. “Yeah, um, decisions.”
“I get that you decided to help Cody.”
“Yes. That was one of my decisions. He’s still young and his family is not easy—”
“And you know something about that, don’t you?”
She did. “I knew you’d understand.”
His smile seemed to touch her heart. “What else, honey?”
“I decided about you, too.” If she didn’t hurry it up he’d miss the entire fund-raiser because of her. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I’ve decided that I want more.”
He kissed her bottom lip, touched his tongue to her. “More with you? I like that idea.”
Her heart stammered then stalled. “Not just sex.” Then she amended, “Not that sex with you is ever just sex. That’s not what I mea—”
“I love you, Zoey.”
Her jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly. “That’s what I was trying to say to you!”
> Sinking his hands into her hair, he kissed her more urgently.
“You two are causing a scene.”
They broke apart to see Shohn grinning down at them.
Garrett said, “Go help Amber and Noel with the damn corn.”
“Right.” He winked at Zoey, clapped Garrett on the shoulder and headed toward the booth.
Glad for the reprieve, Zoey rushed to say, “I’m not trying to pressure you. You have a house and I have a house and my mom is moving in and... Everything doesn’t have to change right away. We could ease into things. Keep doing what we’ve been doing, because that’s really working for me.”
“Me, too.”
“We could keep taking it one day at a time...”
Garrett hauled her close and kissed her quiet. “One day at a time works for me—as long as here on out, each day is with you.” Then he said it again. “Because I love you.”
She squeezed him tight. “I am so glad I came back to Buckhorn.”
“It’s where you belong,” Garrett whispered. “Here—with me.”
* * *
AMBER WAS SO BUSY watching her brother, she kept bumping into Noel. Not a terrible thing at all.
When Shohn came around the booth and started tying on an apron, she said, “I love it when a plan comes together.”
Shohn gave her a look. “Been scheming again, huh?”
Smug, she said, “Think maybe we could make it a double wedding?”
He glanced at Noel. “You getting married?”
Noel choked.
Amber felt her face go hot, but she ignored it. “I meant you and Nadine, Garrett and Zoey.”
“Hey, I’m game. Nadine and I are ready to set the date anyway. But you’ll have to corral the others.”
“I can handle that.” She smiled...until she saw Noel shaking his head at her.
So he thought she was a busybody? So what. She gave him a look of disdain and asked, “Want to dance?”
Shohn’s brows went up.
Noel just smiled as he handed his tongs to Shohn. “Thought you’d never ask.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from HOLDING STRONG by Lori Foster
“Lori Foster delivers the goods.”
—Publishers Weekly
If you loved Tough Love,
don’t miss these great titles in Lori Foster’s sizzling new Ultimate series:
Hard Knocks (novella)
No Limits
Holding Strong
Be sure to also catch the deliciously sensual Love Undercover series, available now!
Run the Risk
Bare It All
Getting Rowdy
Dash of Peril
And don’t forget the Edge of Honor series!
When You Dare
Trace of Fever
Savor the Danger
A Perfect Storm
What Chris Wants (novella)
All available now in ebook format.
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Holding Strong
Lori Foster
CHAPTER ONE
WATCHING HER LAUGH, seeing her tease and flirt, burned his ass big-time. He loved when she laughed and teased with him—not so much when it was with other guys.
And therein lay the problem.
He had a near-savage lust for her. When he looked at her, when he heard that carefree laugh, he felt dangerously close to losing it.
Contemplating decisions and possible mistakes, Denver Lewis sipped his beer. He should look away from her but knew he wouldn’t. She was all tits and ass and attitude in a petite frame, and God love the girl, she turned him on.
He’d avoided her, refused to be drawn in by her tempting smiles, and all in all given her the cold shoulder since determining they wouldn’t suit. He had no right to judge her for having fun elsewhere.
But knowing and accepting that as true didn’t talk him off the ledge. No, if anything it wound him tighter.
Damn, she looked good.
The shifting lights in the club played with her dark blond hair and the curves of her lush little body. His buddy Stack, another fighter, drew her into a fast dance. She didn’t refuse. Ever.
Cherry Peyton was always the life of the party.
The loud music competed with the furious drumming of Denver’s heart as he monitored her every move. The music’s wild tempo kept her body from touching Stack’s. They danced around each other and the rest of the crowd on the floor.
Every guy there made note of her, seeing her once and then taking a longer look. Her happiness, her laugh and that killer bod all combined for one hell of an impact on the male libido.
For over an hour, Denver watched her draw attention and smiles and, no doubt, sexual thoughts. He ignored other women who tried to get his attention, those who came up to him and propositioned him in modest and sometimes lewd ways.
Yeah, he wanted to get laid.
But he wanted Cherry, not anyone else.
It pissed him off that he couldn’t get her out of his head. He should have had her before decreeing theirs an acquaintance-only relationship, then maybe he could have some perspective when it came to seeing her with other men.
Then again, maybe not—because days after meeting her, he’d known sex wasn’t the only thing he wanted. He’d already begun to think of her as his, even though he hadn’t even kissed her yet.
If only his territorial tendencies didn’t clash so badly with her playful party-girl personality.
Seeing her accept her third glass of wine, he finished off his beer and called it quits.
At least on the alcohol.
He stewed while watching her indulge in several dances with too many different guys—never mind that they were all from their group, fighters that she, and he, knew well and trusted as friends. They’d all come down en masse to cheer on one of their own. Fighters from the rec center who sparred and coached together. Men he’d known forever.
Men who had befriended Cherry when she’d become roommates with Merissa, another fighter’s sister.
She was well and truly enmeshed in his life, friends with his friends, a part of their inner group, and if he wasn’t denying himself like a freaking masochist he’d be over there with them right now. She’d be laughing and joking with him. Dancing with him.
Treating him like everyone else.
That she was so well accepted in their circle made it even more impossible to stop thinking about her, because everywhere he went, he saw her.
Finally, after a robust dance that had her laughing aloud, Cherry began to fade. She dropped into a chair at a table with three other fighters and a few women.
Her gaze never once came his way—almost as if she knew where he was and avoided making eye contact with him.
Suited Denver fine. Mostly.
Damn it.
It wasn’t easy, but he made himself look away.
Tonight had been an eventful one. They’d all gotten to the local fight venue early, some to grab a bite before the event, others just to ensure they got the best seats. They all enjoyed watching Armie Jacobson fight.
They’d enjoy it even more if Armie would accept the offers from the more elite, professional fight organization, the SBC, but for reasons of his own he dodged them, always insisting on sticking with the smaller, more local groups. It wasn’t due to a lack of talent.
Cannon Colter was a star with the SBC, and both Denver and Stack had recently signed with them. Since they each sparred with Armie, they knew firsthand that he was fast and deceptively strong, slick in a way that bespoke innate talent, something that couldn’t be taught or learned but came naturally to a born athlete. Armie knew his shit.
If he
accepted a contract with the SBC, he’d more than hold his own. Denver believed he would dominate there, as well.
But Armie blew them off every time.
Speak of the devil... When Denver saw Armie approaching him, he put his elbows back on the bar, glad to finally have a distraction. “How do you feel?”
“Whaddya mean?” Armie caught the bartender’s eye and ordered a whiskey.
The competition had been done tournament style so that competitors had to win to advance, and had to fight multiple times. That arrangement wasn’t common anymore, and wasn’t the way the SBC did things. But the smaller events did what they could to highlight the fighters and drum up excitement.
Armie had knocked out his first guy, then submitted the next two—each in the first round. In the second fight, he’d locked in an arm bar so tightly that the other fighter had immediately tapped rather than risk injury. For the third, he’d submitted with a rear naked choke. Each time, he made it look effortless. Hell, he’d walked away with nothing more than a small bruise on his cheekbone and some mat burn on one elbow. That was it. No other injuries. He’d barely broken a sweat. Armie destroyed other fighters with disgusting ease.
Soon as the event had ended, most of the competitors and a lot of fans had converged on the nearby club for a promoted after-party. Armie, a fan favorite for the local organization, was sure to be the belle of the ball.
“You took that last guy apart. He was damn near knocked out when you decided on the arm bar.”
Armie tossed back the whiskey and asked for another. “Yeah, he must’ve been new or something.”
More like Armie was that good, but Denver knew he wouldn’t admit it. For whatever reason, Armie shrugged off all opportunities to further his fight career. Because of that, Denver warned him, “Dean Connor was in the audience, scouting out the talent.”
Only for a second did Armie react, but he shook off the stillness in less than a heartbeat. “Havoc was here?”
“One and the same.” Dean “Havoc” Connor was a legend in the sport, and one of the most revered fighters ever. A while back, he’d switched gears from competing to training. Now, with another well-known veteran, Simon Evans, he ran one of the most successful and sought-after camps—the same camp where their buddy Cannon often trained.