Tear

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Tear Page 20

by Rachel Van Dyken


  “You mean other than make noises so my brother thinks I’m totally making out with you?”

  I pinched him.

  “Or that.” He winced. “We stay friends, and you keep me far, far away from parties and alcohol-induced stupidity.”

  “We can always put one of those dog collars on you and press the shock button when you act stupid or make a bad choice.”

  Demetri threw his head back and laughed. “Kinky, I like it.”

  “Who’s kinky?” Alec growled as he came around the corner.

  “Your fiancée.”

  “We aren’t—” I felt myself flush red. “We aren’t engaged. It was just pretend.” I assured them both and myself.

  Alec said nothing, but Demetri grinned like a fool. “Yeah okay, Nat. You just keep telling yourself that you won’t be marrying this one over here the minute he asks you.”

  I felt my cheeks heat even more! Glancing away I offered a nervous laugh and felt my treacherous heart jump at the thought. I was only eighteen for crying out loud!

  “We good?” Demetri grabbed my hand in his.

  I squeezed. “We’re good.”

  “Love you, Nat.”

  I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you, too.”

  Alec lifted an eyebrow.

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’m going to go pack!”

  Alec followed me outside. The minute the door closed he pushed me up against it. “I can’t wait to be alone with you.”

  I giggled as he kissed my neck and squeezed me against his hard body. “Finally, all mine.”

  “All yours.” I hungrily searched for his mouth as he lifted me into his arms. Wrapping my legs around his body, I hung onto his neck and went about proving to him exactly how much of me he had.

  Epilogue

  “Merry Christmas!” I shouted, suddenly feeling like the girl jumping out of the giant present! Only I was jumping up and down and clapping my hands. After much convincing, Demetri and Alec both agreed to dress up as Santa and hand out gifts to the family. My little cousins decided to visit. They were twelve and fourteen. Both girls. And both avid fans of AD2.

  “Ho, Ho, Ho,” Demetri said very unconvincingly as he glared in my direction then tossed the girls presents. “My tummy is a rumbling like a bowl full of jelly.”

  I wrote the script.

  Pretty sure they both hate me right now.

  “I feel warm and cozy,” Alec added, shaking his head. “But you know what will make me feel better, Santa?”

  Demetri smirked, once a pervert always a pervert. “What, Santa?”

  “A song.”

  The adults knew what was going on, as did I. We all clapped happily while Demetri and Alec grabbed their guitars and sat on the couch.

  As the music started up, my cousins narrowed their eyes.

  And then as both boys began to sing, I walked over and pulled off the beards and hats.

  I’ve never heard girls squeal so loud in my life.

  “Baby, I see your smile, it lights the sky, it makes me high with… Love is so deep, and feelings are strong. I need to feel close so I can carry on.”

  Then Alec’s voice crooned, “My Christmas star, I’ll follow you far away. Far away. I’ll be where you are, just promise me that you’ll stay. Stay.”

  They harmonized together, and I have to admit I was just as starstruck as my cousins. In fact, I was ready to pull out my cell phone and swing it back and forth in the air like a concert goer.

  So many things had changed since my trip with Alec. We’d bonded more than I could ever imagine. He showed me all his favorite spots and even took me into the studio so he could start recording his acoustic album. Which Demetri finally gave him the green light on, considering he was going to be in rehab.

  Demetri called us every day and every day my parents begged Alec to adopt both of them so they would be a part of the family, which I found alarming considering I was dating Alec. The parents who seemed not to care less about kids now had three. And it was awesome.

  They weren’t even staying at their own house during Christmas. My parents made up rooms for them, even though Alec was a little irritated that he couldn’t sleep in my bed.

  But my dad gave him the look, so he backed off and promised he’d sneak in later.

  If anyone would have told me that my boring life would turn into what I was currently watching — two rock stars serenading my family on Christmas — I would have laughed. But I guess that’s what makes life special. It’s unexpected. Scary as hell. But in the end, totally worth it.

  Keep reading for a sneak peak of Demetri’s story in Pull: A Seaside Novel.

  Pull

  A Seaside Novel

  Add evil.

  Malicious.

  Manipulative.

  And crazy. To all of Nat’s attributes.

  Somehow she convinced her old boss that not only would it bring lots of business into Seaside Taffy, but having a legit rock star singing on the street would be almost like a tourist attraction.

  I was not amused.

  And I am still not amused.

  Not when I’m driving to an actual job in a Mercedes that cost more than the building the taffy is sold in.

  Nor when I get out of the car, grab my bucket — yes, there is an actual taffy bucket — and plop myself on the corner of the street.

  People gather around. They expect me to sing the jingle. I want to kill myself. Why didn’t I die in that accident?

  “Seaside Taffy,” I began. My voice cracked. It hasn’t cracked since I was five. Again, I want to die. “Loads of fun, in your tummy. Yum, yum, yum.” I swear I can feel Bob snickering from twenty feet away. “Ice cream, taffy, treats galore! Don’t forget to stop at our store!” I gave a dramatic bow.

  I expected applause, or at least some sort of acknowledgement that I did just give the best performance of my life.

  What did I get? One solitary clap. One person. I cringed thinking of the pity clap. It was the type of applause every performer dreads hearing. Swearing, I turned around. It was a little girl. She was five, by the way.

  “Want some taffy?”

  I held out a piece of taffy and the mom suddenly looks horrified like I planned to lay a taffy trail all the way to my car in order to abduct her child.

  They hurried away and I’m stuck again with a crowd of people trying to get around me while I shake my bucket. “Seaside Taffy!” I yelled louder this time and threw my hands out in the air. Might as well commit, since this was my hell for the next few months.

  “Seaside Taffy!” I flailed my arms again and a piece of taffy flew out of my hand, right into the back of someone’s head.

  Great. Add assault to my record.

  The person turned around and I was a little shocked, because to be honest, I thought I had hit some punk kid.

  Not. The. Case.

  “Seriously?” The girl stomped toward me, all five feet of her and glared. She was wearing a hat that said “The Best Taffy in the World” and an oversized sweater with leggings and boots.

  “It slipped,” I offered lamely.

  She reached for my bucket. I jerked it out of her reach. “Nobody touches the bucket.”

  Wow. I was so ashamed of myself that I wanted to jump into the bucket and hide. Was I really getting possessive over my bucket? Like some homeless man with his cart?

  She reached for the bucket again.

  I snapped. “What’s your problem!”

  “My problem?” she repeated, her eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead. Damn, she had pretty eyes.

  I nodded. Words weren’t really my thing since I was shamelessly checking her out.

  “My problem…” She laughed bitterly. “Is that the minute your punk rocker self got into this town, our business has suffered, and you don’t even take it seriously! And now you’re working my corner!”

  “Whoa!” I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry. Your corner? What? Is this Pretty Woman or something?”

>   “Did you just call me a prostitute?”

  Yes. Yes I did. “Nope, more like a call girl. Prostitutes don’t dress like blind middle schoolers.”

  “Agh!” She swatted my bucket, making all the candy fall to the ground. Amused, I crossed my arms and watched the fire blaze in her eyes. Really, it was a pity she dressed so horribly, and that she was wearing that awful hat. Though, I guess my visor wasn’t any better, but still. I made it look good.

  “Just watch it.”

  Brawl alert. I almost expected people to start coming out of the alleys with toothpicks in their mouths and newspapers in their hands.

  How the hell did I get stuck in a Broadway musical?

  Since I was committing to the whole Seaside Taffy act, might as well commit to this one too. “Noted, Shop Girl. Noted. Now run along.”

  Her eyes widened, and for a second I was shocked at how pretty she was. With a grunt and a cute little curse, she stomped off across the street.

  I waved in her direction and started the jingle all over again. This time really committing, by way of throwing in a few AD2 dance moves that I knew would likely land me in prison if I moved to hastily in the wrong direction.

  Three hours later, I was seriously rethinking this whole job business. It started to rain shortly after my dancing began. No doubt people thought it was because of my inability to keep my hips from moving with the stupid candy bucket.

  With a sigh I adjusted my visor and tried to protect the taffy bucket. If my only job was to sell taffy and get people into the store, I didn’t want to be the one loser who got the taffy wet and single-handedly took down the longest running taffy store in the history of Seaside, Oregon.

  Thankfully, Bob must have sensed my plight, or maybe he was tired of me texting him every two seconds asking him for an umbrella. I knew it was pathetic, and okay, maybe a little bit ridiculous, but I was beyond drenched.

  My teeth were chattering, and I was giving everyone with two eyes an unobstructed view of my nipple ring through the wet t-shirt.

  If the mom from earlier was to come by now, she’d be horrified. And I’d be put in prison.

  Ah, prison. Such a pipe dream. At least it’s warm there.

  “You’re getting the taffy wet,” a female voice said behind me.

  Slowly I turned around. It was the big-eyed girl from before. Only now she was wearing a slick rain coat and rain boots.

  “Caught that did you?” I sneered. I wasn’t sure why I was so irritated. Maybe it was the rain? Maybe it was withdrawals from drugs. But I was pissed that the same girl who verbally attacked me from earlier would not only come back for more, but would blatantly tell me something I already knew.

  “I’m not stupid,” I said, shaking my head while still trying to shield the bucket with my body.

  “You sure about that?” she asked, folding her arms.

  “Did you seriously come back out here in the rain just to challenge my intelligence?”

  “That depends.” Her lips turned upward into a shadow of a smile.

  Fine. I’ll bite. “On what, Sweetheart?”

  “Are you going to stand in the rain or move two feet and stand underneath the overhang?”

  Shit. I looked up. Sure enough. There was a healthy overhang that could have been shielding me from the rain for the past two hours.

  I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I like the rain.”

  She bit her lip and looked around. People walked around us with their umbrellas, all trying to duck into the shops until the rain stopped. I shivered in response and waited for her to say something.

  “You chose the right place to be then.”

  If she only knew I had no choice whatsoever in the matter. “Yup, guess I did.” Seriously. I was getting nowhere with this girl. All flirting genes apparently died in the car accident, while I was left very much alive — and very much a loser. What a bright future I had!

  Author Note:

  I had so much fun writing this book. I think every author says this when they are done with a huge project, but there are so many people to thank that it would take pages for me to actually get through the thank you’s, and by then you’d be wanting to throw your e-reader, so I’ll start with the most important.

  I thank God every day for allowing me to live my dream! It is because of Him that I’m even able to do what I do.

  Laura Heritage. Editor extraordinaire. You are not only an amazing editor, but a fantastic writer and a wonderful friend. Thank you for believing in this project and helping to make it a reality.

  Stephanie Taylor, Editor-in-Chief of Astraea Press and my publisher when I’m not doing a self published project like this one. Thank you for not only allowing me the freedom to do something crazy like self publish a book, but supporting me in the process and walking me through it. I don’t know many publishers that would stand by and do that. I’m constantly in awe of you!

  Thanks to my family and my sexy husband for putting up with me when I ignore everything but my computer for hours on end.

  And finally, thank you to my readers. I love you guys so much! If you haven’t already, add me on Facebook and Twitter and check out my website: www.rachelvandyken.com. As always, if you liked the book write a review. If you hated it, write a review. I love to hear the good and yes, even the bad.

  Other books by Rachel Van Dyken:

  The Devil Duke Takes A Bride

  The Ugly Duckling Debutante

  Every Girl Does it

  Compromising Kessen

  Savage Winter

  The Parting Gift

  Waltzing With the Wallflower

  The Seduction of Sebastian St. James

  Beguiling Bridget

  The Redemption of Lord Rawlings

  Upon A Midnight Dream

  Whispered Music

  An Unlikely Alliance

  Coming Soon:

  The Bet

  The Wolf’s Pursuit

  Pull

  Taming Wilde

  Divine Uprising

  Irresistible Terms

  About the Author

  Rachel Van Dyken is the USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

  She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandyken.com

  Table of Contents

  Tear

  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

  Epilogue

  Pull

  Author Note:

  Other books by Rachel Van Dyken:

  About the Author

 

 

 


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