Starting Over Trilogy Boxset

by Kennedy, Brenda

  “Oh, my God, he sent you a bouquet of cupcakes!” I say.

  We all take a deep breath and release it with a moan.

  “I already know who sent us lunch and dessert,” Sara says.

  “Well, I can assume it’s from Vincent because of the way Brea is still hugging the card.”

  “He knows how much I love Cakes and Cups Bakery in Bradenton. The cupcakes are to die for; actually, everything in their bakery is mouth-wateringly delicious.”

  “Hand it over, Brea,” Sara says, holding her hand out for the card.

  “It’s just an apology for him having to work late last night,” Brea beams, handing over her note.

  Brea, A beautiful bouquet of edible cupcakes for my beautiful girl. Please forgive me for not being with you last night. I love you, Cupcake, more than life. Love, Vincent.

  “Aw, that is so sweet and he calls you Cupcake,” I say.

  Licking the icing off her fingers, Sara says, “Well, tell him he can work late all the time as long as he apologizes with these delicious babies.”

  “How did he get Anna’s Deli to deliver the cupcakes from Cakes and Cups?” I ask.

  “Vincent knows everybody. He probably did some work for Anna’s Deli, and called in a favor,” Brea says.

  Brea reads the card again and places it on her desk. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to call Vincent and thank him.”

  She grabs her cellphone and heads to the back room.

  I look at Sara. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because last night when Brea asked where you were going after work, I sensed something was wrong.”

  “Oh, that. I didn’t have a yoga class to go to.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No, can you keep a secret?”

  “Yes, of course I can.”

  “I went with Vincent last night to help him pick out an engagement ring for Brea,” she says, smiling ear to ear.

  My smile matches hers now.

  “Oh, my God! That is awesome. I am so excited for her.”

  “I know — me, too. I couldn’t tell her and I hate lying to her.”

  “I get that. This is big.”

  Just then, Brea walks back into the room smiling, too.

  “Let’s eat. I’m starving,” she says.

  We eat together, pulling our chairs around Brea’s desk. The smell of the cupcakes makes my mouth water. God, they smell so good. Vincent is a smart man to apologize to Brea with sweets. She has the worst sweet tooth of anyone I know. We talk about the cooking class we have after work tonight. We talk about going to the shooting range on Saturday. Sara says she and Donovan are training for a half-marathon this summer.

  I tell them about taking some online classes so I can get my degree in interior design. After calling the school, I had found out I am only a few classes shy of graduating with my degree. I don’t tell them the reason I had to withdraw from class — they don’t need to know that.

  I also don’t share that I would like to start my own business soon after. I can tell them later.

  They ask me if I have heard from Mason. I tell them I did receive a text message from him last night. They look at each other and high five. I just roll my eyes at them.

  I look directly at both of them and say, “You didn’t tell me he took my business card while he was here.”

  “We asked if you wanted to know why he was here and you said no. Ring a bell?” Sara states.

  “Ok, you got me there.”

  I smile, looking at my shoes. I swear I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

  “So, what did he say?” Sara asks.

  “Nothing really, just that he is looking forward to Saturday.”

  Before they can question me any further, I tell them I need to run over to the novelty shop to check on something.

  I still have a few minutes left of my lunch hour. I excuse myself after helping everyone clean up and run down to the novelty shop that is just a few doors down. I am surprised to see they are able to help me with my request and can have it ready by the end of the workday. I pay for my purchase and tell them I will pick it up later.

  When I return to the office, Brea tells me someone called for me. They didn’t leave a message but will call me later. We work nonstop the rest of the day. After locking up, I tell the girls I will meet them at the restaurant. I run down to the store, pick up my purchase, and drive to the Indian restaurant in downtown Sarasota. They are standing outside the door waiting on me when I get there. We walk in together, giddy like some schoolgirls.

  The class was fun, and I actually learned a lot for the first day. It’s only a six-week cooking class every Thursday. Today we learned about different knives and how to chop, cut, and dice the correct way. We learned about spices and other seasonings. Next week we will actually make a dish.

  We walk out of the restaurant together and I head home. I pull unto my dimly lit street and there is a dark SUV sitting in the other side of the Morgans’ driveway. I was going to return their orange juice pitcher tonight, but I will wait until tomorrow since they have company.

  I double-lock the front door, secure the chain and get ready for bed. As I lie in bed, my mind drifts back to Mason. I grab my phone and send him a quick text before I chicken out.

  A: Good night, Handsome.

  Damn, why does this make me so nervous? It’s just a text.

  M: Sweet dreams, Angel.

  I fall into a deep sleep.

  I wake up, startled. I sit up in bed with my back against the headboard and listen. Something woke me up, but what? A noise? I pull the blankets up to my chin and take shallow breaths. I’m afraid someone will hear me if I breathe normally. I sit there and listen … nothing. I debate getting out of bed and looking around, but I am too frightened to move. What woke me up? I then hear the Morgans’ cat outside my bedroom window. Relieved that it must have been the cat, I lie back into bed and wait for sleep to find me.

  Morning comes quickly. I wake up at 6:30, shower, and get ready for work. I pick a few oranges from the Morgans’ orange tree before heading to work. I am thankful it’s Friday. It has been a very long week.

  I park my car in my designated parking spot. I am the first one here for a change. I turn the lights on in the office and start the coffee.

  As I am sorting through some papers on my desk, Sara and Bree enter at the same time.

  “Good morning, Sunshine,” Bree says, heading to the coffee maker.

  “In high school, I would have loved to be as popular as that coffee maker,” I say, smiling.

  “Me, too,” Brea adds, laughing.

  “Ready to get this day over with?” Sara asks.

  “You know it,” I say. “It has been one long week.”

  We work well into the afternoon. Brea had to leave to meet with a client. Sara and I stay at the office to handle the billing and phone calls. Sara pulls out two protein bars from her desk and tosses one at me while asking, “Lunch?”

  “Thank you,” I say, catching the bar in midflight. We eat in silence.

  “What a day!” Sara says, kicking her feet up on her desk. “I have never been so busy in all my life.”

  “Whew, I’m ready to call it a night,” I say, spinning my chair around to look at her. “I’m beat.”

  “Me, too. Let’s lock up and head home,” she says, standing up to get the coffee pot ready for Monday.

  We lock up and go outside. Brea pulls up into the parking lot.

  “So, we are meeting at the gun range tomorrow, right?” Bree says, rolling down her car window. She’s just getting back from her meeting as Sara and I are getting ready to leave for the night.

  “Yes, ma’am, at 3,” I say.

  “Good, then everyone is coming over to Donovan’s house afterwards for a cookout,” Sara says.

  “What do you want me to bring?” I ask.

  “Nothing, Donovan will have everything. He has a pool and a hot tub, so you might want to bring yo
ur swimsuit.”

  “Sounds good. See you girls tomorrow,” I say, driving off.

  I stop by and get a pizza on my way home. All I want to do is eat and soak in a hot bubble bath. I think about going to the gun range tomorrow and the importance of knowing how to protect myself. I have wanted to learn how to shoot ever since being in an abusive relationship. Tomorrow is my chance to learn how to protect myself. I cuddle up on the coach with a chick flick and a glass of wine. My phone chimes to alert me I have an incoming text. I look at my phone, secretly hoping it’s from Mason.

  M: Looking forward tomorrow. Do you need a ride?

  A: No, but thank you. I’ll meet you there.

  M: Do you know where Bullseye Pistol Range is in Palmetto?

  A: Yes, I have the address. I’ll put it in my GPS, thanks.

  M: Sweet dreams, Angel.

  A: Good night, Mason.

  A: Mason?

  M: Angel?

  I am giggling to myself. I love it when he answers me with a question. It shows me a little of his playful side.

  A: I’m looking forward to tomorrow, too.

  M: Good, we’ll have a great time. Drive safely.

  M: Angel?

  A: Mason?

  M: Don’t forget the bikini. ;).

  A: Good night, Mason.

  I sleep in until 9. It is another beautiful day. I help myself to the fruit from the Morgans’ orange and grapefruit trees. I can see Josephine at the kitchen window and wave to her. Deciding it’s too nice to stay home, I put on some running shorts, a sports bra, and tennis shoes. I grab a water and my iPod and walk the short distance to the beach. I run until I can’t run anymore.

  I shower, dry my hair, apply my makeup, and add just a little extra curl to my hair. I apply my favorite scent of lotion and add a little extra body spray. I put on a pair of black, lace boy cut panties and matching bra. Not that anyone will see them, but it makes me feel better wearing them. I look at the clothes I have laid across my bed. Smiling, I am ever so happy with my decision. The Novelty Store did a great job on my shirt. It is just what I wanted. Today I am on two missions. Today I will learn how to protect myself and I definitely want to catch the eye of Mason Myles. If this doesn’t do it, nothing will. I get dressed, pull my hair out of my face in a high, curly ponytail, apply a little more body spray, and look at myself in the full-length mirror. Front then back. Happy with my appearance, I grab my overflowing beach bag, purse, phone, and keys and head to the shooting range.

  Mason

  I didn’t think today would ever get here. All I thought about this week was Angel. I decide on an early morning run. I text Donovan to see what I need to bring to the cookout.

  M: Ready for today?

  D: Sure am, and you?

  M: Can’t wait. Do you need me to bring anything?

  D: I think we have everything. What does Angel drink? We have white wine, beer, and some mixers for margaritas.

  M: I’m not sure. I’ve seen her drink white wine and mojitos. I’ll find out and bring it.

  D: Ok, see you in a few.

  I shower, shave, and dress in jeans and boots and decide on a novelty tee with a picture of a gun on it. Appropriate for a shooting range, and playful enough for a girl with Angel’s personality, right? I go into my closet and pull out the lock box. I carefully choose a Glock 17 for me and a Smith and Wesson 38 special for Angel. That should be small enough for her to handle. I remove enough ammunition for a Hollywood action/adventure movie. If Angel wants to play, we are going to play. I pack everything into a backpack. I grab my trunks and a towel on my way out the door.

  I arrive at the shooting range, park my car, and grab the backpack from the trunk of my car and head to the front entrance. I don’t see anyone, so I grab a seat outside and wait. Sara and Donovan arrive first. He parks his truck next to mine. He grabs a backpack from his backseat. Walking over to me, they are both dressed in camouflage shirts, jeans, and camouflage boots and hats. They make a nice-looking couple in that getup. Nothing like a hot girl in a gun range. They walk over to me, and we wait for the others to arrive. They talk about the food they have for the cookout and how excited they are to be practice shooting.

  Brea and Vincent are next to arrive. Brea hops out of the truck; she is wearing a white shirt with a huge pink cupcake on the front on it, jeans, and boots. Laughing to myself, I think that she is too much. It suits her perfectly. Vincent is wearing jeans, a grey tee, and his work boots. He grabs their weapons from the backseat and joins us at the entrance. They join in the conversation about shooting and how long it’s been since we have been here.

  The girls shoot for fun, while the guys and I shoot to keep our skills up. We live in Florida. The crime rate is very high here. Floridians have the legal right to protect themselves, their families, and their property. We take the “Stand Your Ground Law” very seriously. I will always protect my family above anything else. My Dad instilled some great values in me when I was growing up. Being an attorney/judge, he sees firsthand the slime that lives amongst us.

  I look up when I hear another vehicle pull into the parking lot. It is a red 1969 Camaro in mint condition.

  “Great car, looks like she’s been garaged her whole life,” Vincent says, staring at the car.

  “It sure does,” I say.

  Angel steps out of the car and my mouths falls open. She looks around like she isn’t sure where to go. She is wearing a hot pink tee with the words “Armed and Dangerous” in bold black print on the front of her shirt, skinny jeans, and hot pink, four-inch fuck-me heels that match her shirt. Her hair is in a high ponytail, and she is wearing big, gold-hooped earrings. I stare because it’s all I can do. I can’t move. She is hot and stunning at the same time. Sara walks over to me, places her hand under my chin, and closes my mouth. She is laughing as she looks at me and says, “Close your mouth — it’s not nice to stare.” I look at her. She laughs loudly and saunters off. I blink a few times and I am stunned. Damn if they aren’t all hot: Angel, her shirt, and her car! Nice … I love it.

  I swear Donovan and Vincent are staring, too. Brea joins Sara over at Angel’s car. They hug and jump up and down. They are pointing to her shirt and laughing. Donovan pats me on the back and says, “Now that is hot as hell. A hot car, a hot chick, and a hot-as-hell shirt.”

  All I can do is nod my head. Get your shit together, I tell myself.

  Donovan nudges me and says, “Look like you got your work cut out for you.”

  I look away, closing my mouth again, trying to get my shit together before she reaches me.

  “Ya think?” They are the only words I can form. I lick my lips — they are suddenly very dry.

  Angel walks over to us and says “Hi” to everyone, smiling. She looks at me and says, “Hi, Handsome. Nice shirt.”

  “Hi, yourself. Nice shoes,” I reply with a smile.

  “Ready to get your ass beat?” She laughs.

  “Only if you are doing the beating.”

  I laugh.

  I open the door and wait for everyone to enter the shooting range. Angel stays behind and enters with me. We all get registered, get our locations, and get our safety goggles, ear plugs, and targets.

  “Ever shoot before, Angel?”

  “No, but I am excited to learn.”

  “I’ll teach you safety first, then we can target shoot.”

  She nods in understanding and says, “I hope I’ll do all right. I’m a little scared.”

  “By the looks of your shirt, I would have thought you were very confident.”

  I smile.

  “I got it to intimidate you.”

  “Well, I think you succeeded!”

  I place everything carefully on the table and tear the gun apart. I show her how to put it together, teach her the names of the parts of the gun, how to load it and unload it, how to clean it, and how to use the safety and check it. She is very serious, not taking her eyes off the weapon. I ask her to demonstrate everything I just taught her and she
does.

  I tell her she won’t need to tear the gun apart very often but it’s good to know how.

  I lower her target for her and help her with her safety goggles and earplugs. She looks very sexy wearing her goggles with her gun in hand. Although she is wearing a very playful shirt, she is taking this very seriously, like it’s about life or death. She listens intently as I show her how to hold the gun out at a distance, and where to place your feet so you are ready to shoot. She fires all five rounds. I leave the practice target in place, and watch her reload her gun.

  “Perfect,” I tell her and she grins ear to ear. She fires five more rounds. I am staring at her and not even realizing it.

  “What?” she asks, confused. “Am I doing it wrong?”

  Bringing me out of my thoughts, I shake my head.

  “It’s just that you are very beautiful. I don’t think I have ever met anyone quite like you before,” I say honestly.

  “Thank you, I think.”

  “That is certainly a compliment, and you are welcome.”

  I watch her reload and shoot a few more times until I feel she is comfortable with it.

  “Ready to get started?”

  “Ready to get your ass beat?”

  “Beauty, you have no idea,” I say grinning.

  I set her up a new target and I set up mine. We shoot together for a while, not comparing our targets but just shooting in silence. I look over at her and she is doing great.

  When we are done, I tell her to tear down her gun. I watch carefully as she does it slowly and cautiously. She repeats the names of the parts before putting it back together again. I gather the guns and the few shells we have left and place them back into the bag.

  “Great job, Angel. I am proud of you.”

  She looks straight at me and says as seriously as she can say, “Thank you for taking the time to teach me. I have been wanting to learn to shoot for a long time. You have no idea what it means to me.”

  I look at her and say just as seriously, “I’m glad I was the one who got to teach you. You did great. Anytime you want to come back here for more practice, let me know.”