Rafe

by Sawyer Bennett

  I sink to one knee, wincing slightly at the bite of concrete through my jeans. “Poppy...I love you so much, and there’s been a lot of bad in my life lately. But finding you again...loving you again...has made everything infinitely better. There’s no life without you in it, permanently by my side. So, please say you’ll marry me, and that you’ll move into this house with me, and that we’ll have kids one day.”

  Calliope just stares agog at me, her eyes cutting from me to the ring to the house, then back to me again. “This is so fast,” she mutters.

  “No, it’s not,” I say firmly as I move to a standing position and take the ring from the box. I grab her hand, slide it easily onto her appropriate finger, and watch her as she stares down at it. “We’ve known each other for a lifetime. Loved each other for years. Made mistakes, fell apart, and found each other again. No one knows me the way you do, and no one will ever know you half as well as I do. And if there’s anything I’ve learned over the last few weeks, it’s to never live life on the verge of regret. We have nothing to lose. Let’s do this, Poppy.”

  She touches the ring with the tips of her fingers, twisting it slightly. Then her head tips up, and she smiles at me. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  * * * *

  Also from 1001 Dark Nights and Sawyer Bennett, discover Wicked Force, part of the Kristen Proby Crossover Collection.

  Sign up for the 1001 Dark Nights Newsletter

  and be entered to win a Tiffany Key necklace.

  There's a contest every month!

  Click here to subscribe.

  As a bonus, all subscribers can download FIVE FREE exclusive books!

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Seven

  Click here for more information.

  THE BISHOP by Skye Warren

  A Tanglewood Novella

  TAKEN WITH YOU by Carrie Ann Ryan

  A Fractured Connections Novella

  DRAGON LOST by Donna Grant

  A Dark Kings Novella

  SEXY LOVE by Carly Phillips

  A Sexy Series Novella

  PROVOKE by Rachel Van Dyken

  A Seaside Pictures Novella

  RAFE by Sawyer Bennett

  An Arizona Vengeance Novella

  THE NAUGHTY PRINCESS by Claire Contreras

  A Sexy Royals Novella

  THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT by Darynda Jones

  A Charley Davidson Novella

  CHARMED by Lexi Blake

  A Masters and Mercenaries Novella

  SACRIFICE OF DARKNESS by Alexandra Ivy

  A Guardians of Eternity Novella

  THE QUEEN by Jen Armentrout

  A Wicked Novella

  BEGIN AGAIN by Jennifer Probst

  A Stay Novella

  VIXEN by Rebecca Zanetti

  A Dark Protectors/Rebels Novella

  SLASH by Laurelin Paige

  A Slay Series Novella

  THE DEAD HEAT OF SUMMER by Heather Graham

  A Krewe of Hunters Novella

  WILD FIRE by Kristen Ashley

  A Chaos Novella

  MORE THAN PROTECT YOU by Shayla Black

  A More Than Words Novella

  LOVE SONG by Kylie Scott

  A Stage Dive Novella

  CHERISH ME by J. Kenner

  A Stark Ever After Novella

  SHINE WITH ME by Kristen Proby

  A With Me in Seattle Novella

  From Blue Box Press

  TEASE ME by J. Kenner

  A Stark International Novel

  FROM BLOOD AND ASH by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  A Blood and Ash Novel

  QUEEN MOVE by Kennedy Ryan

  THE HOUSE OF LONG AGO by Steve Berry and MJ Rose

  A Cassiopeia Vitt Adventure

  THE BUTTERFLY ROOM by Lucinda Riley

  A KINGDOM OF FLESH AND FIRE by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  A Blood and Ash Novel

  Discover More Sawyer Bennett

  Wicked Force: A Wicked Horse Vegas/Big Sky Novella

  By Sawyer Bennett

  Click here to purchase.

  Kynan McGrath has just joined The Jameson Group, a security organization handling everything from covert military operations to providing protection for high-profile celebrity clients. As second-in-command, Kynan has the authority to accept or decline any mission. But when a stunningly beautiful pop princess walks through the doors, Kynan knows he’ll do anything to get closer to her.

  Joslyn Meyers is on the brink of super stardom, but with fame comes a level of attention she was never prepared for. She’s even less prepared for the gorgeous, tattooed, British bodyguard her mom has hired to keep her safe.

  When Kynan escorts Joslyn to her hometown of Cunningham Falls for a benefit concert, it becomes clear that the threat to Joslyn’s heart is more real than any physical threat to her safety. But when Hollywood comes calling, will the pop princess and the wickedly hot Brit be able to preserve their relationship? Or will the force of their differing worlds drive them apart?

  Wylde: An Arizona Vengeance Novel

  By Sawyer Bennett

  Click here to purchase.

  There’s a reason they call me Wylde and it’s not just because it’s my last name.

  I might be one of the newest players on the Arizona Vengeance team, but I’m no stranger to the celebrity that goes along with being a professional hockey player. Whether it’s a fan seeking an autograph or a puck bunny looking for more, I’ve grown used to the attention. I not only thrive on it; I use it to my advantage. Let’s just say my bed is rarely empty.

  When a quirky redhead at the local bookstore stops me dead in my tracks, I decide to pop in and turn on the trusty Wylde magic. As smart and strong-willed as she is beautiful, Clarke Webber isn’t swayed by my witty banter or charming good looks. And when she realizes who I am and the fame that comes along with it, she likes me even less. Thankfully, I’m always up for a challenge. The more I get to know about her, the more I know my playboy days are behind me.

  If I’m going to capture Clarke’s heart, it’s time to be a lot less Wylde, and a lot more Aaron.

  * * * *

  Chapter 1

  Wylde

  I love living in downtown Phoenix. My condo is on the fringe of the social scene, which is filled with trendy cafes, fine dining, and upscale shopping. At night, I merely have to step out of my building and walk one block west to be in the thick of it all. Five blocks south, and I’m at the arena where the Vengeance plays. My truck mostly stays parked in the underground garage unless I need to use it to drive to the airport for away games, but I’ll often just Uber it.

  I’ve always preferred city living, and I lived in downtown Dallas when I played hockey for the Mustangs before being traded to the Arizona Vengeance. It’s a single man’s playground, the city life, and I wouldn’t trade it for one of those houses in the burbs that a lot of my teammates choose as their choice destination for fine living.

  I ignore the elevator on the fourth floor of my building, choosing to take the staircase instead. For fuck’s sake, I’m a professional athlete… I should be able to handle four flights of stairs coming and going.

  When I step out into the June morning, it still takes me a moment to get past the startling dry heat. It seems like I’d be used to it since I’ve lived the last several years in the southwest between Dallas and Phoenix, but this New Englander still has a tough time living without humidity.

  Regardless, today is the day I’d chosen to get back into the swing of things with my workouts and I can’t let a little fire in the lungs before I even start my run stop me.

  It was just ten days ago that my team, the Arizona Vengeance, won the Cup championship over the defending champions, the Carolina Cold Fury. It’s been ten days of being lazy, eating bad food, and drinking lots of beer. I’ve been going out with my single buds on the team almost every night, getting drunk and heading home with a different puck bunny.

  But fuck if I can only take so much of that type of hedonism
. Like I said, I’m a professional athlete and with that comes a certain way of living.

  For my entire hockey-playing life—starting before I was a teen—I took my training seriously. I’d been told by coaches early on I had raw talent, but part of developing that was in conditioning my body. That meant good nutrition, workouts, and maintaining a winning attitude at all times, even in the off season.

  That’s where we are now… the glorious off season of summer, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to work.

  Starting today, it’s back on. Training camp is only three short months away, and the pressure for us to perform at the same or better standards is immense. On top of that, my contract expires at the end of next season, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to operate at anything less than one hundred percent.

  So today, I start back running and I usually average at least twenty miles a week, broken into four to five morning runs.

  Many of my defense peers aren’t into running, focusing instead on strength training and muscle endurance. Those are important to me, too, but I’ve always loved running for some reason. I’m easily able to let my head go into a subspace, and it’s quite meditative for me. On top of that, it burns a lot of calories. It means I can eat more, which is a bonus given how much I love food.

  I take a moment on the sidewalk to do some dynamic stretching—heel-to-toe stretches, hamstring curls, and leg kicks. I do two sets, walking up and down my condo’s block, oblivious to the people who do double takes when they recognize me.

  For the most part, that doesn’t happen. Yes, I’m a well-known player for the Arizona Vengeance, a first-line defenseman, but the entire city isn’t into hockey. More often than not, I’m able to go places without being recognized, but that’s also dependent on where I go. Sports bars, I’m bound to get approached for autographs. The grocery store, less likely, particularly since I like to go early on Sunday mornings when it’s practically dead.

  Legs fully stretched, I start off in a slow jog heading east and after the first quarter mile, I pick up the pace. My ear buds are cranked, and DJ Khalil elevates me to run faster.

  My mind wanders, trying to figure out my summer. I haven’t given it a lot of thought as I’m more of an impulsive, do-things-when-I-feel-like-it kind of guy. I know I should plan a trip home to New Hampshire to see my mom, but the thought of it starts to depress and demotivate me, so I put it out of my head. We don’t have the best relationship and any trips home are made from a sense of obligation, not because I actually get joy from our reunions.

  That may seem harsh, but she’d say the same damn thing.

  Normally, I’d plan a vacation on a sunny beach somewhere but in a few weeks, I’ll be headed to the U.S. Virgin Islands to attend Brooke and Bishop’s wedding. The entire team is going for a week to participate in a continued celebration of the Cup win in addition to their nuptials. It’s going to be just one long party, and I’m looking forward to it.

  Maybe I could head to Wyoming for a few days of fishing, something I got into over the last few years and really enjoy.

  Or maybe I should go bum around Europe for a bit. I have several teammates who would be up for just such an adventure.

  Regardless, anything I decide will have to wait until after Bishop and Brooke’s wedding during the first week of July because my weekends are already accounted for until then.

  Up ahead, I see they’re doing some sidewalk construction on my normal route. At the next light, I decide to turn left. I jog in place while I wait for the light to change. As other mid-morning strollers casually jaunt over the crosswalk, I take off running again. Rush hour is over and most people are at their places of work, but I still have to weave in and out of other pedestrians.

  This is a street I haven’t been on. I pass a coffee shop, a small drugstore, and what looks like a bookshop.

  I glance in the window of the latter, my gaze landing on an incredibly gorgeous woman behind the cash register. It’s really just a glimpse as I run by, but her auburn-colored hair gathered in a messy bun on top of her head and the most stunning pair of eyes shining from under a pair of rectangular, black-framed glasses catches my attention.

  Now, glasses aren’t normally my thing on a woman, but, in this instance, they work. I can’t tell if her eyes are green or blue, but they’re light colored, in stark contrast against her fiery hair with tendrils escaping her updo and framing her pretty face.

  And just as quickly as I spot her, she’s gone because I’m past the bookstore and reaching the end of the block.

  To return to my route, I should cut right and head uptown, but I can’t shake that tiny glimpse of gorgeousness I just witnessed, so I decide to take another peek at the woman. I kick up my pace. Rather than turn around and go back, I decide to circle the block to get my paces in.

  When I reach the bookstore and slow my pace to get a better look at the woman, disappointment sets in because she’s no longer behind the register. I can’t spot her anywhere. Granted, there’s a lot going on inside the shop. It’s more than just a bookstore as in addition to rows of books, there are tables and free-standing shelves that host a variety of knickknacks for sale. It looks cozy, interesting, and crowded at the same time, but there’s no beautiful redhead.

  And once again, the bookstore is behind me—the opportunity she represented now firmly in my rearview mirror.

  I get to the end of the block, determined to turn right and get back on route. For some reason, though, I don’t enter the crosswalk when the light turns green. Jogging in place, I peek over my shoulder at the bookstore, weighing my options.

  “Fuck it,” I mutter, pivoting and heading back that way.

  Slowing to a walk a good ten yards from the door, I take deep breaths to get my heart rate into a normal range and cut the sound from my iPhone strapped onto my bicep. My breathing evens out quickly because, despite the ten days of gluttony and debauchery, I’m still in pretty great shape. I reach an arm up, wipe my sweaty brow on my sleeve, and take one last deep breath.

  Pushing open the door to the bookstore, I note the name painted in gold letters—Clarke’s Corner. A tinkling bell announces my arrival, and a husky voice calls out from somewhere behind the bookshelves.

  “Be there in a moment.”

  “Take your time,” I reply loud enough to carry, then proceed to browse around.

  It’s an incredibly cute place. All the furniture, including the four long rows of bookshelves that are jampacked with paperbacks and hardcover editions, are painted in a glossy white. The walls are done in a pale blue, covered with paintings by what look to be local artists. They must be commissioned for sale, because they have price tags. Tables are loaded with trinkets such as bookends, candlesticks, tiny lamps, gilded frames, and other useless objects used for decoration.

  “Hi.” That same voice hits my ears, but much closer, and I turn to find the beautiful woman I saw earlier there.

  Without being too obvious, I take more of her in. She’s wearing faded, worn jeans along with a pair of pink sandals. A gauzy, loose shirt of mint green hangs off one shoulder with a white tank underneath.

  Her eyes are green, maybe hazel and now that I have a moment to observe, her glasses are actually tortoiseshell with gold trim around the edges. Surreptitiously, I note she isn’t wearing a wedding ring. Actually, her hands are bare of any jewelry. Small gold studs wink in her ears behind the wisps of hair framing her face, which is classically beautiful without a single speck of makeup. Not even mascara or eyeshadow.

  Just fresh, clean skin and clear eyes staring at me.

  “Welcome to Clarke’s Corner,” she says brightly. “Can I help you find something?”

  “Um…” I say, drawing an absolute blank. I can’t very well say, No, thank you… I came in here to hit on you because I found you absolutely beautiful as I was running by.

  I mean, I could say that.

  And, actually, I have done that on occasion when I met a woman I was immensely attracted to. I’m no slouch
in the looks department, so I’ve never found beating around the bush to be all that satisfying. More of the type of guy who goes for what he wants.

  Then, it hits me. I throw a thumb over my shoulder toward the interior of the store. “Actually, I was walking by—”

  “Kind of sweaty to just be walking by,” she observes. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need to sit down or anything?”

  Sharp girl. And also one for honesty, it seems.

  I grin, popping my panty-dropping dimples, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “Okay… got me. I was out running, and I’d never been this way before. When I saw this store, I remembered I have a wedding to go to this weekend and I haven’t bought a present yet.”

  Total lie.

  Well, sort of.

  There is indeed a wedding. Erik, one of my teammates, is getting married to his fiancée, Blue, but I have already bought them a gift. I have no problem buying a second one, though.

  “Did you have anything in mind, or would you like some suggestions?”

  “I’ll take suggestions,” I say, leveling her with a sheepish but hopefully charming smile. “Not the best shopper.”

  The woman moves over to a wall unit that houses a few interesting pieces of pottery, then chooses a vase the color of burnt cinnamon with dark yellow swirling through it. “How about something like this?”