by Eden Ashe
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All I Need
Copyright 2015 by Eden Ashe
ISBN: 978-1-61333-919-0
Cover art by Fiona Jayde
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Look for us online at:
www.decadentpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
Sexy Designs by Desiree Holt
Dear Reader,
Jilly and Luke were the first couple in my head. I’d never wanted to be a writer, or even thought I’d be able to do it if I did. But after years of devouring romance novels, I woke up one morning to find a tiny, spunky, slightly-damaged Jilly already madly in love with Luke. He was the small-town good boy, and after one meeting with Jilly, he knew she was meant to be his.
The first draft of their story was 170,000 words. 600+ pages. It was like once I started writing—and writing them—they didn’t want me to ever quit. But finally, I was able to get them to their much deserved happy ending.
After that, they sat on my hard drive through five new computers, patiently waiting while I worked on other couples. Then, out of the blue, Luke spoke up. All he said was “Now.” I thought about pretending I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I figured these two had waited long enough. Only when I started on them, they decided they’d gotten the majority of their issues worked out in their first draft all those years ago, so this time, they wanted to have fun.
I love this story. I love these characters. They’re everything I love to write, and they love each other so much.
I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. Feel free to contact me at [email protected].
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All I Need
When she inherits the ancestral manor she’d grown up in from her wily grandmother, Jilly is ready to settle down. Only problem—the manor has been willed to Luke Bannon as well.
The bane of her existence, Luke is the one guy who can threaten her carefully erected walls. But not a man to be ignored, he has loved her forever. He just wishes he didn’t have to share the house with her.
Once they’re alone in the old manor, it’s clear something isn’t right.... Doors locked tight, windows won’t budge...something—or someone—won’t let them leave. At least not until they admit they’re meant to be together.
Dedication
To Mary, thank you for being you. Loves ya, my friend.
All I Need
A Spirit of Laken Story
By
Eden Ashe
Chapter One
The high-pitched squeal blasted her eardrums the second Jilly opened her car door. Bracing for the coming impact, she’d barely slid out from behind the wheel when the tall, willowy body of her best friend hit her. Losing her balance, Jilly landed on her butt in the dirt, Megan Bannon wrapped around her, a grin lighting up her flawless, beautiful face.
“You’re here!” Megan squealed again. She cupped Jilly’s face in her hands and gave her a huge, smacking kiss on the mouth. “I was starting to think you’d changed your mind about coming.”
Jilly grimaced. “And risk my grandmother coming back to haunt me? No thank you.” She tried to shove her off, but it got her nowhere. Megan had six inches on her. Instead, Jilly dug her finger into the woman’s rib cage, her one ticklish spot. “Would you get off me, you oaf?”
Snickering, Megan leapt to her feet with the casual grace of a born dancer and held out her hand to help her up. “I can’t believe you’re finally home for good.” She hugged her once more before she moved to the back of Jilly’s car, popped the trunk, and peered inside. Frowning, she asked, “That’s it?”
Jilly shrugged and grabbed the first box. “I have to get the house sorted and figure out what to do with all of Nana’s stuff. She’s always been borderline hoarder, and Luke said it only got worse the last couple of years. I didn’t want to bring more clutter into it.” Because it still hurt to think about her grandmother, even five months after her death, Jilly blew out a breath. “Is he here?”
Megan snagged a box then lifted a perfect blonde brow. “Who? My pain-in-the-ass brother? Not yet.” She muttered something Jilly couldn’t hear before bumping her hip. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?”
Because she’d had to leave right after her grandmother’s funeral to get back to her job, she hadn’t been able to stay for the will reading. Which meant she still had no clue why Nana had left half of Jilly’s ancestral home to her best friend’s big brother. The lawyer had only said her Nana’s will had been specific—if Jilly didn’t have a husband by the time Nana died, half of the entire estate went to her. The other half went to Luke.
Shaking her head, she started up the broken stone path to the home she’d grown up in, half expecting to see her grandmother tending to her prize roses in one of the dozen sprawling gardens. Ignoring the pain in her chest at the realization that Nana really was gone, she focused on the house in front of her.
Crisp, bright-white, half-farmhouse and half-Victorian, with a single spire piercing the sky from the middle and no two windows or doors the same, St. James Manor had sprawled over Laken, South Carolina for four generations.
“Hey.” Megan stopped walking so abruptly, Jilly almost ran into her. Her friend scowled at her over her shoulder. “You know it worries me when you go quiet like this. Tell me you’re not planning anything…stupid.”
More amused than offended, Jilly scooted around her and continued toward the house. “Just because I don’t understand why your brother inherited half of my family’s house, doesn
’t mean I’m going to murder him in his sleep, Megs.”
“Ha.” She let out an unladylike snort. “I’d believe that more if you two weren’t mortal enemies.”
Juggling the box in one arm, she searched her pocket for her keys. “I don’t hate him, and he’s not my enemy.”
“Please.” Megan rolled her eyes. “You two have never been able to stay in a room together.”
Jilly stopped halfway up the front porch steps, something tightening in her gut. Shifting the box into the crook of one arm, she grabbed Meg’s wrist until their eyes locked. “Maybe once, but it’s kind of hard to hate the person who saved your life. Twice. Literally.”
Pure, unadulterated rage flashed in the depths of Megan’s glass-green eyes at the remembrance of what had triggered her brother’s temper. “Luke was too nice. That asshole deserved to die.”
As always, love swamped Jilly at her immediate, wholehearted jump to over-protective best friend. Going on tiptoe, she kissed her cheek then drew in a long, slow breath and squared off with the large, hand-carved front door. “All right, are you ready?”
Megan bobbed her head. “When you are.”
With the box still tucked under one arm, Jilly grasped the handle. Before she could turn the knob, her fingers slipped off. She tried again.
Megan’s head canted when, after the third try, Jilly had only managed to wrap her hand around the knob. “What the hell? Is it greased?”
Shaking her head, Jilly set the box on the porch then swiped her palms across the backof her jeans. Her hands weren’t sweaty, and the knob didn’t feel different—the handle was normal. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t hold onto it.
“Let me try.” Megan dumped her box in Jilly’s arms then made a production of pretending to crack her knuckles before she gripped the knob without luck. They stared at each other. “Okay, I’m calling it. That’s officially weird.”
Jilly shook her head again and handed the box back to her, half-positive they were missing something. Who couldn’t open a door? “Stay here. I’ll go try the back door.”
***
As bad days went, Luke Bannon figured this one had to be in the fucking hall of fame.
Five months. For five goddamned months, he and his lawyers had been searching for a way out. Something, some small loophole that would get him out of ownership of a white elephant he had no desire to co-own, let alone deal with.
He had enough shit going on in his life without worrying about some damn money pit monstrosity, or the woman who came along with it. But despite everything, despite all the money he’d paid them to find a way out, his lawyers had informed him the damn will was ironclad.
To unload the beast, he’d have to sell it, and he didn’t have to imagine what Jilly’s reaction to that would be: Over her dead body.
Tossing his toolbox into the passenger seat of his ancient truck, he climbed behind the wheel and told himself to man-up and face the facts—he was good and royally fucked.
Pushing a palm through the hair he’d forgotten to get trimmed—again—he thought there had to be away to appeal to her common sense. Despite her emotional attachment to the place, Jilly had to see that, for one, it was too goddamn big for her. And, two, the place needed so much work, even if he started that day, it would take him ten years to renovate and update everything.
Which exhausted him just thinking about it.
But, being honest, it wasn’t her reaction that worried him. He knew her, how she’d react, and he wouldn’t blame her for any of it. St. James Manor belonged to her family, the last thing she had left of her parents and her grandparents, and she belonged there.
So, no. He didn’t expect any surprises there. It was himself he worried about. He could fight through the lawyers until the end of time, but when he came face-to-face with her, he’d damn well give her the moon if she asked for it.
And since the terms of the will were clear-cut and ironclad, Luke had two choices—convince her to sell her ancestral home or move in with her.
The lawyers had given him clear indication before he’d left their office; he had one week to convince her to sell. That was it.
He may as well pack his fucking bags and move in.
Spotting her car when he took the turn up into the long, winding drive, he pulled in behind it, set his jaw, and yanked the last box out of her open trunk before starting up the path.
His steps faltered at the sight that greeted him. Megan sat on the steps of the huge wraparound porch, giving directions to Jilly, who crouched on her hands and knees—ass facing him—in the bushes, trying to…. nothing came to mind.
“What the hell are you doing?”
All movement stopped with a squeak, and a muffled oh shit emanated from the shrubbery before she backed out. Shooting to her feet, she was all grace and dignity as she clasped her hands in front of her and offered him a cheerful smile.
“Hi.”
Lust, raw, painful, and grinding, slammed into him with so much force, he almost staggered under it. And, quick on the heels of the lust, came the blinding need. To touch her. Feel her. Wrap her in his arms and never fucking let her go.
Instead, he glared at her, torn between self-preservation and self-loathing for the light that dimmed in her sky-blue eyes. “What are you doing?”
Small and curvy, with dark-red hair, a perfect Cupid’s-bow mouth, and freckles, she was the perfect mix of adorably cute and heart-stoppingly beautiful. The banked, tightly controlled fire in her eyes never failed to gut him. If he were less of a man, and if she weren’t his little sister’s best friend, he’d have devoted his life to tempting that fire until it burned them both alive.
An upturned chin was her only outward sign of emotion. “There is something wrong with the doors. I was trying to break in through the basement window.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?” Without waiting for an answer, he moved past her and took the porch steps two at a time. The two women whispered to each other behind him, but he ignored them and grasped the knob. It turned easily, the door swinging open as if it had been waiting for him.
“What?” Jilly and Megan asked in stunned unison.
His sister poked him in the back. “How did you do that?”
Dropping the box he held onto the nearest decorative table, he propped his shoulder against the wall and narrowed his eyes. “Are you two drinking already?”
With one final glare at him, Jilly pulled the door shut then immediately opened it again. “How…?” She raked a hand through her shoulder-length hair and looked at Megan. “Are we cracking up?”
“Yes,” he said at the same moment his sister said, “No.”
They continued taking turns closing the door and opening it again. Desperation already ground low in his gut, and watching her wasn’t helping.
The coming week wasn’t just going to be the hardest of his life. It would never fucking end.
Chapter Two
Holy crap, Luke Bannon is hot.
At six foot three, and nothing but thick, solid muscle, he should have been a bull in a china shop in Jilly’s grandmother’s house, with all its delicate furniture and piles and piles of glass knickknacks. But, despite his ginormous size, he strode through the clutter to put her boxes down with confidence and ease, perfectly at home.
Light-brown, slightly wavy hair peeked out from underneath the same Cubs hat he’d worn since they were kids, shielding mismatched eyes. One green, one brown. A new tattoo snaked down his left arm, and, if she had to guess, probably something dark and monstrous. A genuine, hard-working good guy, he’d been into horror books and movies since childhood.
A finger dug into her rib cage. “Jills, geez. Are you listening to me? I have to go.”
Dragging her gaze away from Luke, she blinked up at Megan. “What?”
Meg bent and laid the back of her hand on Jilly’s brow. “What’s wrong with you? Are you feeling all right?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Jilly saw Luke’s h
ead snap up, and he swung around to stare at her. Embarrassed, she swatted the hand away. “I’m fine.” She ducked away from her to move farther into the living room. Big mistake.
The lingering scent of her grandmother’s perfume hit her and knocked her off balance. Tears burned her eyes as she stood, unable to move as years of memories washed over her.
“Oh, honey.” Megan wrapped her arms around her from behind, rested her chin on her shoulder, and squeezed. “It’s okay.”
Luke cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you alone.” He tugged the brim of his cap lower over his eyes.
Jilly swiped the tears away and shook her head then rested it against Megan’s. “I’m all right; it just took me a minute.” Then, feeling steadier, she blew out a breath and glanced at Luke. “Didn’t you bring anything?”
Irritation flashed over his face. “It’s in my truck.” After scooting a waist-high pile of magazines off the stairs and onto the floor, he sat on the vacated spot. He braced his arms on his thighs and rolled his neck. “So, we’re really doing this?”
Megan shot a look-half surprise, half confusion between them before backing toward the door. “I think that’s my cue. Jilly, I love you, and I’ll call you tomorrow. Luke, Mom wants you to call her.”
And then Meg bailed, leaving Jilly alone with her brother. Shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, she tried to look anywhere except at the man lounging on her stairs. While Jilly and Luke had known each other all of their lives, the last time she’d seen him, she’d been in the hospital with several broken bones, courtesy of her ex-boyfriend.
Luke had stayed with her until the doctors had released her, growling and intimidating the entire staff until he‘d been sure they’d be nice to her. But, once her grandmother had arrived to take care of her, he’d disappeared.