Love Untamed

by Ra'Chael Ohara

  Love, Untamed

  Ra’chael Ohara

  Love, Untamed

  Copyright © 2014 by Ra’chael Ohara.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: July, 2015

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-224-6

  ISBN-10: 1-68058-224-0

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For my Stormie Sky. I hope you grow up to find a man who loves you as fiercely as you love Frozen.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  I cannot believe this. Don’t get me wrong, I always knew I was adopted. There was just no way around it. I look nothing like my mother. Pearl Jones has shoulder length, blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and fair skin. She’s five-foot-seven, tall for a woman, and stick thin.

  Me? I’m not fat, at least if you don’t ask for my mom’s opinion. I have curves, aka big boobs, and an even bigger booty. And I’m short. Five-foot-four. All my life I’ve bared the brunt of all the short jokes. I have long brown hair, brown eyes, and naturally tan skin.

  I, Eva Jones, look nothing like my mom or the dad I had the first three years of my life before Pearl’s greed ran him off.

  So, I always knew I was adopted. Even after all the times mom lied and said I wasn’t, deep down I knew, but I also figured if my family put me up for adoption and didn’t bother to find me the past twenty-five years of my life, why should I try to find them?

  I have a good life. Despite my mother’s constant overbearing and slightly verbally abusive behavior toward me, I know she loves me and was just trying to do her best. I’m content with the life that I’m living. Heck, I have a successful fiancé I’m about to marry in three months and a semi-successful photography business.

  Then, a week ago, I received a call from a lawyer who I have never heard from before. This morning, I sat across from this lawyer and he proceeded to tell me that not only did I have a granddad I never knew about, but I’m also the only surviving relative of Robert Garcia, making me the beneficiary of over one million dollars and some cottage in Alaska.

  One. Million. Dollars. I’m a millionaire. I had a grandpa, a grandpa who never bothered to seek me out, but left all his money and land to me? The thought makes me sick. I look over at the note Robert left me with his will that’s sitting on the passenger seat of my car and see it’s addressed to Eva Garcia. Garcia…My real identity. I’m not a Jones.

  Since I was a little girl, I have been primed to be a trophy wife. Always have my nails done to perfection. Weekly waxing sessions since I hit puberty. Never, not once, can I remember my legs being hairy.

  I had the best clothes, went to the best schools, drove the best vehicles, but I’ve never felt like I belonged. I know what you’re thinking. Aww, poor rich Eva. I’m grateful, but I didn’t want any of that.

  I wanted to travel after high school, explore new cultures and cities, capturing memories with my camera along the way. I didn’t want to be engaged and married by twenty-five, destined to be Elliot Simms’ trophy wife.

  And just once I want to have hairy legs!

  I immediately feel guilty for my thoughts. Elliot is a good guy. He’s taken care of me from the moment my mom and his dad introduced us. I love him. At least, I think I do. I wouldn’t say that sparks flew the moment I met him, but, after a while, my feelings for him grew.

  I grab the letter Robert left me and shove it to the bottom of my purse with a little anger. I’m not ready to read that letter yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I’m scared that if I do, there’s a chance I’ll read how much he regretted not trying to find me and building a relationship with me. I’m petrified that it will say the opposite.

  I take a deep breath and begin the trek up to the condo I share with Elliot. I’m going to have to tell him about the money and the land. I’m just not sure how he’s going to react. Even though he’s a very successful CEO in the company he runs for his father, he comes from old money. He wants to keep it that way. The constant problem in our relationship is him wanting me to quit my hobby of picture taking—as he puts it—and stay home full time.

  To me, photography is not just a hobby. It’s my passion, the only thing I’ve had my whole life that has made me feel like…me. I’ve tried everything for him to see it my way: Arguing, bargaining, and begging. I’ve even tried seeking advice from mom. No surprise, she chose Elliot’s side.

  My best friend, Charlotte? She thinks I should scrap both Elliot and my mom and run away with her. What the heck would I do without my Charlotte, my best friend since kindergarten? My mom hated her from day one, and the feeling is 100 percent mutual on Charlotte’s end.

  She’s a sarcastic, loud, fun-loving gal who didn’t come from money, but from a trailer in the only park for miles literally on the other side of the railroad tracks.

  Photography and Charlotte are the two things mom couldn’t take away from me. Charlotte is the peanut butter to my jelly, the chip to my dip. Nothing will ever change that. Just like nothing is going to change the fact that I’m going to marry Elliot Simms in three months.

  Or at least that’s what I thought when I opened the front door to our condo. What I saw on the other side of the door blew my perfect world right open. Elliot and a woman having sex on our couch.

  She’s on her knees with her arms propped on the arm of the couch. Because she’s facing the wall, I can’t tell who she is. The sounds of her moans, Elliot’s cries, and the gross noises of stuff slapping together drowned out the sound of me opening the front door.

  I don’t move. I don’t breathe. As awful as it is, I just stand there and watch, burning the image into my mind. Just as I’m about to snap out of my stupor and dart out the front door, the woman turns her head.

  Tara. The one and only. How come this doesn’t surprise me? You’ve heard the word frenemies, right? Well, that explains me and Tara’s relationship to a tee. The only friendship mother ever approved of and I couldn’t stand her 95 percent of the time.

  Our whole relationship has been a competition, at least on her end. If I got something, she had to have a better version of it: Phones, clothes, cars, perfume, heck, even boyfriends. Apparently now fiancés as well.

  When Tara’s ey
es connected with mine, I expected her to jump up or at least act surprised. What I should have expected her to do was exactly what she did, give me an evil smirk and hold my eyes while Elliot continued his wild thrusting.

  Fearing I’m about to barf and alert Elliot to my awkward presence, I turn and run out of the apartment.

  Of course the second I’m outside rain begins falling down so hard I can barely see in front of me. When I reach my car, I put my hand on the door, about to jump in, when I stop.

  Shouldn’t I be crying? Shouldn’t I feel shattered, broken, and sick? Shouldn’t I feel like my whole world just ended? I just watched my fiancé have sex with my friend. I should feel all of these things, but I don’t.

  The only thing I feel is…freedom.

  Chapter One

  WELCOME TO ALASKA

  One Month Later

  Why am I on this death trap? I ask myself this question every time I’m on a plane. No, scratch that, this is not a plane. This a toy so small I could fit it in my pocket. I swear, once I saw how small the plane was, I about scratched this whole plan and got the heck out of there.

  And this is the moment the plane chooses to shake. I let out a squeak and tightly squeeze my eyes shut. I have never been able to ride on an airplane without having a slight panic attack, but this? This has just about done me in.

  “Oh dear Lord!” I squeak when the death trap rattles again, causing the old guy who’s piloting to chuckle. Once I get off this thing and I’m done kissing the solid ground, I’m going to punch this guy.

  “Only about twenty more minutes, little lady,” The pilot informs me over the headphones.

  After my epiphany in the parking lot of me and Elliot’s condo, I drove straight to Charlotte’s house and told her everything, from the money to the cheating. After I talked her out of storming the condo and ripping Tara’s hair out, she agreed to drive over and help me pack my things.

  At that time, I had no idea what I was actually going to do with my life, but I also knew there was no way in hell I was going to marry a cheating bastard like Elliot.

  By the time Char and I showed up, Tara was long gone, and Elliot acted like he had no idea why I was shattering his cold heart by breaking off the engagement and leaving him. I couldn’t even look at him. I was still too disgusted by what I had seen and heard. Char had no problem filling him in.

  That’s when I did look at him, and what I saw was his face go pale and his body go completely still. Then he wasn’t still. He was trying to pull me to him and convince me that I didn’t see what I thought I saw.

  He realized I wasn’t buying that. He tried to tell me it was a one-time thing and it didn’t mean anything. When that excuse didn’t change my mind, he called the one person he thought could force me to do anything, my mother.

  Ten minutes later, Pearl came storming through our condo with her matching sweater set and Chanel No. 5 perfume, demanding answers, answers I was happy to give her, answers I did give her.

  Now, I haven’t exactly painted me and my mom’s relationships as candies, hearts, and flowers, but I always believed that, above all, she would want what’s best for me. All of those thoughts and beliefs came crashing to the ground when mom pulled me to the other room and told me, “What’s done is done, and it can’t be undone. He was wrong and so was she, but I will not let you throw away your future, our future, because of one small mistake!”

  I didn’t know what to say at first. This was my mom. Maybe not by blood, but she raised me, clothed me, fed me. She was supposed to love me and want the best for me. My happiness should come first. Was she really standing there saying I need to forget everything I just witnessed?

  And then it hit me. Her words crashed into me like a two ton truck. She said ‘our future.’ This isn’t about me. It was never about me. If I left Elliot, there goes the money I was marrying into, her money. Pearl Jones has once again proven how greedy she truly is, just like she did when she forced the only dad I had ever known to leave us because he didn’t make enough money.

  With steely resolve, I straightened my spine, looked Pearl in the eyes, and told her I was leaving no matter what she or Elliot had to say. Then I informed her she would have to look elsewhere for her money.

  When my mom raised her hand in the air and slapped it across my face, my mind didn’t register what she’d done until the sting, which came immediately after. My eyes watered with tears, but I blinked them back. I would not let her or anyone else see me break. This was my chance to start the life I was always meant to live and I was taking it.

  Without another word to my mother, I stormed out of the bedroom. Once I reached Char’s side, she wrapped her arm around my shoulders and we headed for the front door with my mother screaming at our backs.

  Just before we left, I looked back at Elliot and was surprised to see tears in his eyes. My heart didn’t soften a bit. I didn’t realize it at the time, but eventually I understood my heart didn’t soften because it wasn’t hardened to begin with. All I felt for Elliot was indifference.

  After a week of sitting on Char’s couch and dodging calls from Elliot and my mother, I decided I was gone. There wasn’t anything besides Charlotte keeping me there, and she was the one telling me to go and have an adventure.

  I had basically just shoved my mother off. What else was I going to do? So I made plans to visit the only place on this earth I knew of that was connected to a person who has the same blood as me.

  “Welcome to Alaska,” the pilot says, breaking me away from my thoughts. As soon as I look out the window, I’m distracted from my fear of flying by the beauty that is Alaska. I don’t think I’ve seen anything this magnificent. It takes my breath away.

  My eyes roam over all of it, soaking in as much as I can: the snowcapped mountains, the big trees. Everywhere I look, there are large bodies of water. The closer we get to ground, the more wildlife I see, and just when I think it can’t get any more stunning, a bald eagle soars by. Crap, I wish I had my camera on me.

  Alaska has never been on my list of places to visit, but now that I’ve seen it? I feel sorry for the people who will never be able to witness this magnificence first hand.

  As we start to land, the plane bangs the ground so hard I’m convinced we’re about to crash. Closing my eyes once again, I begin recalling random facts to distract me. This is something I’ve always done to calm my nerves.

  I’m currently thinking about how the official animal in Scotland is a unicorn when the pilot clears his throat. I brace myself and open one eye, darting it around to see the plane has landed and is shut off.

  When I pop the other eye open, I check my body to make sure I’m in one piece as the old man—I still don’t know his name—takes my Louis Vuitton luggage out.

  The second he opens the door for me, I rush out so fast I stumble and fall to my knees on the deck, but that’s okay because I was dead serious when I said I was kissing this friggin’ ground.

  “Thank you,” I whisper to the deck between kisses. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss.

  I finally stop when I hear the old man laugh behind me. When I stand up and turn around, I see amusement dancing on his face. Something about the way the man’s eye’s twinkle makes me smile back.

  I stick out my hand. “Hi, I’m Eva Jones. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I was a bit distracted about the flying building I was about to board,” I say cheerfully, gaining me a chuckle.

  “I know who you are, little lady. Gilbert,” he replies as he returns my shake. I tilt my head. I’m confused as to how this guy knows me.

  When the lawyer gave me the paperwork concerning Robert’s land, it included a contact number for the lady that had the keys to it, Kim Smith. She and Charlotte are the only people who know where I am.

  Gilbert sees the confusion on my face and gives me another smile. “Small town, sweetheart. People talk.”

  “Well, since it’s a small town, could you point me in the direction of the bar called The Ta
vern? I’m meeting someone there.”

  “You’re meeting Kim Smith there. And you just follow this dock to the end. You’ll end up in town. The Tavern is the only bar and gas station in this town. Hell, other than a small Stop and Go, it’s one of the only other buildings here. You can’t miss it, darling.”

  Before I can say anything, Gilbert moves to the back of the plane to do whatever you have to do in the back of a plane. I grab the handles on my rolling suitcases and follow Gilbert’s directions.

  Now that I’m not staring death in the eye or taking in the beauty that’s surrounding me, I’ve noticed something else. It’s friggin’ cold! I look down at my thin dress coat and tight, high-waisted, knee-length skirt and know I made a mistake by not changing into the warmer clothes I bought with me.

  I mean, everyone knows Alaska is cold, but knowing that and experiencing that are two different things. I’m almost out of earshot when I hear Gilbert yell at my back with a smile in his voice, “You might want to think about getting a heavier coat there, darling.”

  I pause and take a deep breath, then continue my walking.

  Sure enough, after five minutes of walking—note, it’s only been five minutes and I feel like I’m frozen already—the dock comes to an end. When I walk out onto the main room, I look to the left and then I look to my right.

  I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore. Gilbert wasn’t exaggerating. There isn’t much in this little town. There’s a Stop and Go on the right side of the road and a few other buildings. Looks like a post office and maybe a library? But that’s about the extent of that side.

  Directly across the road from the Stop and Go is The Tavern. It’s a small cabin with a ramp and a set of stairs leading to a large wooden door in the front, which I’m assuming is the bar.

  On the side is a small extension that’s clearly the gas station if the one pump in the front is any indication. Oh yes, I am definitely not in Kansas anymore. I walk a little, then hustle across the street, and not because of the traffic. In fact, I haven’t seen one car since I got off the plane. I’m fairly certain I’m on the verge of losing my toes. Stupid peep toe heels.