Crazy Beautiful
Copyright © 2016 by Jessica Serra Huizenga
All rights reserved.
Jessica Serra Huizenga
Visit my website at www.jshbooks.com
Cover design by
Kari March
www.karimarch.com
Editing by
Double Vision Editorial
www.doublevisioneditorial.com
Proofreading by
Perfectly Publishable
www.perfectlypublishable.com
Interior design and formatting by
Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable
www.perfectlypublishable.com
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a 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.
Kinsley Moore and Lucas Graham make great friends.
They make even better friends with benefits . . .
Kinsley Moore doesn’t believe in love. As an independent, self-determined entrepreneur, she has other things to worry about. Besides, she knows guys are incapable of commitment, so there’s no use getting close.
But when she meets Lucas Graham, her new landlord’s flirty, sexy son, she’s more than up for some casual fun.
Lucas is in no way looking for a relationship either, so when he’s offered a no-strings, strictly friends-with-benefits hookup with a beautiful girl, the opportunity is too good to pass up. He’s not able to give his heart away, so it’s perfect Kinsley prefers to keep emotions out of their arrangement.
Except when Lucas and Kinsley start to feel something more, their complicated pasts threaten to overshadow any chance they might have at a future together.
Can Lucas prove he’s capable of love?
Can Kinsley believe she is enough?
**This book is for readers over the age of 18 due to strong language and explicit sexual content**
Crazy Beautiful
Dedication
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
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
For Clifford Peter.
Thanks for putting up with my crazy. xx
Kinsley
“If you could just sign here, here, here, and here, and initial each page, the cottage will be yours, Ms. Moore.”
I look up from the stack of documents in front of me and glance to my left at the well-dressed man leaning down beside me. He smells delicious—like cinnamon and soap—and I try not to breathe in too deeply as he points out the places he’s referring to on the papers. I shift my eyes to my soon-to-be landlord sitting across the large wooden table. He has silver hair and is wearing a dark blue sweater. He has the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen. Though younger, he reminds me of my grandfather who used to let me sit on his lap while he solved the daily crossword puzzle in the newspaper. Sometimes he even let me scribble the letters in the boxes. It was simple, but it made me feel special. He died when I was six, so I don’t remember much of him, but this man sitting across from me has the same gentle look.
I take a deep breath, grab the pen off the table, and sign and initial my name in all the spots indicated. Then Ryan Blake, the yummy-smelling lawyer, slides the stack of papers across the table so the sweet looking man can scrawl his own signature across the pages.
Kelley Brooks, my realtor slash best friend, nudges my right side from her seat next to me. I know her well enough to know that 1. This is her silent way of congratulating me and 2. Her way of saying, “If you aren’t going to pounce on the man standing next to you, maybe I will.”
I give her a sideways glance, saying without so many words that she can have him. She knows I’m not interested in a relationship, so if she thinks he has the potential to be Mr. Right, he’s all hers. He’s cute and all, but I have other things to focus on right now.
“Well, Ms. Moore, I guess that about settles it.” The silver-haired man leans forward to hand me a shiny new key. “I am so happy that I get to call such a beautiful, intelligent young lady my new tenant,” he says with a genuine grin.
I hold my hand out as he gently places the key ring in my palm, smiling back. “I can’t thank you enough Mr. Graham. I’m so excited for this.”
“I can tell you are one smart cookie who will do great things. I’m happy to be some small part of your story, so anything I can do to help, you just say the word. And please, call me Eli.”
I can’t help but smile back real big. I don’t know why this man makes me feel so safe. It’s odd because I usually don’t trust anyone, even if I’ve known them for a while. It must just be the excitement over my new digs.
I’m so overwhelmed by the fact that I not only just signed a lease to rent my own house, but it’s also a big enough place to have more room for my growing floral design business, Petal. It’s not huge, but compared to my current studio apartment across town the new cottage seems like a palace. The downstairs has a big back room, complete with an adjoining kitchen that will be perfect for my work area. There is also a small office, bathroom, a sitting area in the front, and a loft big enough for a bed and small dresser. Since I started floral arranging two years ago, it’s become my dream to someday have my own flower shop. This is one step closer. Now instead of having to fill my bathtub, sink, kitchen table, and nightstand with assorted vases, stems, shears, and ribbons, I will have an entire room to work in. Somebody pinch me!
“Ouch!”
Apparently Kelley can read minds, as she just pinched my arm from under the table.
“I’m sure Kinsley here will make us all very proud!” she says. “Our girl has a lot of plans in that big brain of hers, and I know she will do even more amazing things now that she has a bigger place.”
I say a silent thank you to her for jumping in as I realize I’m still holding out my hand with the key. I snatch it back before thanking Eli again.
“Well, Kinsley, I wish you the best of luck, and please don’t hesitate to call me if you have any problems. It’s been empty for quite some time, so if anything needs fixing at that place, I will personally make sure it is taken care of for you.”
Eli stands up and extends his hand toward me, and thank goodness my mouth finally catches up with my brain. “I certainly will Mr. Grah—Eli,” I say as I reach out to shake his hand. I then turn to Ryan to thank him as well. Kelley gets up and follows suit, and I don’t miss how her hand lingers in Ryan’s for a beat longer than necessary. I swear I even hear her inhale deeply.
I gather up my papers and tuck my new key safely in my pocket. As Kelley and I head out, she grabs me by the arm and leans over. “Well, you did
it, babe. You took the big scary leap and finally signed this lease. I’m so proud I could cry.” She pretends to get choked up as we make the short walk out to her car.
To most people, signing a twelve month lease might not seem like a big deal, but considering I never lived anywhere that required more than a month to month agreement, for me this is huge. I don’t like being tied down, but something about doing this feels right. This is the first time in five years that I feel like I’ve regained control over my life.
I look over and nudge her arm. “We both know I couldn’t have done it without you. I mean it, Kell. Without your help, I never would have been able to get this place. You are a kick-ass realtor. Not to mention you make a pretty cool best friend, too.”
She pretends it’s no big deal, but I can see her blush at the compliments. “Don’t even mention it. Getting to smell that delicious lawyer was more than worth it. Gosh, I love cinnamon.”
“And soap.”
“I knew you smelled him, too!” she says with a laugh as we make our way outside. It’s a beautiful, sunny New England day. A cool and crisp breeze flows through the trees, making their leaves dance. I sense this will be a new beginning for me as Kelley and I slide into her car and drive off toward East Sweet Street to my new home.
A short ride later, Kelley turns her red Honda CR-V left onto East Sweet Street and pulls up the dirt driveway to the cutest house I’ve ever seen. OK, I may be a little biased since it’s now mine, but I swear I thought it was adorable the first time I saw it.
What drew me to this place is the sense of escape. Set back a slight ways from the main road, the white building is sheltered by tons of trees and a wooded area that provides plenty of privacy. Large stepping stones lead toward a small stream off to the left, the bank of which is dotted with wildflowers. On the right side is a beautiful climbing rose bush, the vines entwined across a withered wooden trellis. It has a gabled roof and ornate attic window at the top center. There is a small porch off the front steps and a beautiful forest green door set behind a screen. As Kelley noted the first time we stepped inside, it feels like this place comes straight out of a magical storybook. Now it’s my own personal sanctuary.
As I step up onto the porch, I try to remember to take it all in.
This is it, no turning back.
I grab the key from my jacket pocket and insert it into the lock. I step inside and practically squeal out loud. All I’ve worked for has come down to this moment and I feel so incredibly happy I could burst.
And then, as almost always, my happiness is replaced in a heartbeat with a sudden sadness. An emptiness.
Kelley picks up on it and puts her arm around me. “They’re so proud of you, Kins. I know things got all messed up, but you’re still allowed to wish your parents could be here to see all your dreams come true in person. Here you are, making shit happen all on your own, just like you always said you would.”
I give her a nudge as if to say I know, but thanks for being the one to say it out loud. I take a breath and try to gather up as much enthusiasm as I can before saying, “This is going to be great. Thanks again for coming and helping me. I’m glad you’re here.”
She smiles but stays quiet for a second, and I can tell she wants to say something else. I know what’s coming but pretend not to, choosing instead to move up the stairs to the loft attic that will be my bedroom.
Kelley follows and looks around, clearing her throat. “I know I’m great and all, but you also deserve to have someone special to share this with. You know, now that you’ve committed to a job and a home, maybe you’ll consider committing to some . . . other things.” She tosses it out all nonchalant but I know what she’s getting at.
“Nice try, Kell. Just because I am now a supposed ‘responsible’ adult with a business and a house doesn’t mean I’m ready for a relationship.”
She acts like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “I meant maybe get a dog or something. You know, someone to keep you company.” I only have to roll my eyes in her general direction for her to back down. She throws her arms up in mock surrender. “OK, I get it. You’re fine by yourself. As usual. I just think you could put yourself out there a little more. You know, maybe date a little.”
I cross my arms defensively. “Hey, I date.”
“Hooking up with a guy you meet in a bar is not dating.” She gives me her stern you know I’m right look.
“That happened once!” I shoot back indignantly. She raises her eyebrow, causing me to relent. “OK, twice. But the second time doesn’t count because I only made out with him a little before he passed out.”
Kelley just laughs and shakes her head.
The funny part is I don’t even drink. Getting tipsy might mean losing control of a situation, and I refuse to let that happen. Not since every man I thought I could trust turned out to be a liar. I’ve learned to keep my guard up.
Sure, I might not always make the best decisions when it comes to guys, but at least I know what I’m getting myself into. It’s not a crime to have casual sex if we’re both consenting adults. The few times Kelley has convinced me to go out, we make quite the pair: I stay sober and end up having meaningless sex while she gets completely drunk but will barely even kiss a guy if she doesn’t see the potential for a lasting relationship.
“Besides, you’re not exactly tied down either,” I remind her. “If you keep holding out for Prince Charming you might be waiting forever.” I’ve known Kelley since we were seven and used to reenact fairy tales with our Barbies. We may have both grown out of playing with dolls, but I think Kelley still believes Ken & Barbie are soul mates and everything always has a happy ending. Ever the romantic, she’s only had one serious relationship with her high school sweetheart. When that ended she decided not to waste her time on anyone who might not be “the one.”
Kelley turns and sits down on the top step leading up to the loft. “True, but there’s one difference between you and me, Kins.” She looks back at me. “I am at least open to having a relationship. If you really don’t want one then that’s your call, but you’re so closed off I’m afraid you might miss out on a chance at something—or someone—really great.”
I sit next to her on the stairs and pat her knee playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood. I know she means well but I don’t want to think about letting anyone else into my life. I have enough going on with my business and my new place. “I’m good with the way things are, but how about this—I promise if I ever bump into Prince Charming, I’ll give him your number instead, OK?”
She shakes her head but smiles. “OK, deal.” She knows I’m stubborn and won’t change my mind, so thankfully she drops it. She gets up to head back downstairs. As she makes her way to the front door she calls back, “If I can’t get you to settle down, at least I can help you settle in. Come help me with the boxes and we can get this show on the road.”
I wait a minute before following her. If I’m being honest with myself, part of me does kind of wish I didn’t have to be on my own all the time. I’d never admit it out loud, but lately I’ve been feeling a little emptier than usual. Despite things looking up with Petal and my new living situation, there still seems to be something missing. I keep such a tight hold on my emotions that it can be exhausting. If only I could just let go . . .
I take a deep breath and steel myself. No, this is what you wanted. What you worked for. Independence. Self-reliance. Control. It’s just you against the world, and you’re going to protect yourself by keeping everyone else out of it. Stick to casual hookups if you’re lonely and you won’t get hurt.
Kinsley
The next week flies by in a blur of petals and paint. Not only have I been trying to get myself settled in at the cottage, but I still have a business to run. I spent the first few days here painting walls, emptying boxes, and rearranging furniture, but for the past forty-eight hours I’ve pretty much been locked away in the workroom, stopping only to grab a quick bite and catch a few hours of slee
p.
Tonight I have one of my biggest jobs: an extravagant wedding which includes thirty centerpieces, a bridal bouquet, eight bridesmaid’s bouquets, nine boutonnieres, a floral archway for the ceremony, and a basket of petals for the flower girl. Every waking hour has been spent trimming stems, arranging bouquets, and tying ribbons.
At night, while I eat a quick dinner, I have also been answering emails, updating my website, and sourcing supplies needed for the rest of my upcoming orders. I’m a stickler for details, so everything down to the ribbon color and vase shape for each and every arrangement has to be completely perfect. There may be some unexpected things that happen in my life, but my work definitely falls under the category of “Things Kinsley Can Control.”
It takes a lot to wear all the different hats required to keep this business running by myself, but I absolutely love that I can be consumed by and passionate about my work. It gives me both freedom and purpose. I’ve loved flowers ever since I was a little girl and, after a string of random, temporary jobs, I somehow got lucky and landed a position in a florist shop a few years ago. I started as an assistant, sweeping the floors and cleaning out the coolers, but eventually Mary, the owner, let me start designing my own arrangements. She said I was a natural. When she decided to retire and moved to Colorado, she encouraged me to continue designing on my own, which is how Petal was born.
While someday I want to have a full florist shop & nursery, right now I’m focusing on floral arrangements for weddings—yes, the irony of which is not lost on me. I’m good at it, and they’re the jobs that not only pay the best, but also keep me busiest. It’s a great way to start building a professional name for myself. Plus, I’d rather be busy so that I don’t have time to focus on what might be lacking in my life. So what if I’m alone? I get my fill of happy couples and sappy love crap with the weddings I work on, so no need to try and experience it myself. I hate to sound like such a cynic when it comes to love, but the truth is I just don’t believe it really exists. At least not in any lasting, always-forever-and-a-day kind of way.
Crazy Beautiful (Crazy Beautiful #1) Page 1