Chosen

by V. Vaughn

  Chosen

  V. Vaughn

  Sugarloaf Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  Foreword

  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

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2015 by V. Vaughn

  All rights reserved.

  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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Croco Designs

  Editing by Jodi Henley and Red Adept Publishing

  Don’t miss an installment from V. Vaughn. Sign up for her newsletter.

  Created with Vellum

  Foreword

  Trixie Quinn has experienced an odd fever every spring since a wolf bit her during a camping trip. Living with the fear she’s a freak of nature is something she hides well, until she meets Parker Hoyt. He spikes her temperature into the red zone as he takes her sex drive for a ride. But Parker is everything Trixie hates in a man, and being with him is the last thing she wants.

  Parker Hoyt has struggled to fit into the Winter Valley Pack for years. Searching for the true mate he discovered as a teen has been a bust, and he's destined to be a lone wolf, until he stumbles upon Trixie at his hometown diner. Suddenly his fancy cars and women mean nothing as he tries to woo the waitress he’d claimed years ago. But she's not impressed, and he’ll have to prove he's the man she deserves.

  1

  “Lordy, that man is like a heat wave on a winter day.” Darla reaches in her bra and lifts the girls higher, and I shake my head at her as she says, “Honey, I bet if I licked my finger and touched that rock-hard ass, it would sizzle.”

  I cock my eyebrow at her and draw out her name in warning. “Dar-la.”

  She grabs the coffee pot from the machine and swishes her polyester-clad hips over to the man in the booth. Even though she’s in her late thirties, she’s an all-ages-work-for-me kind of woman. The guy is sitting with two girls that have probably burned more than their finger on him and keep coming back for more.

  I watch his eyes dart to Darla as she leans over and offers him more than coffee. His gaze falls to her cleavage. Did he just lick his lips? I huff in annoyance and turn away. I cannot watch the way Parker Hoyt devours women like yards on a football field.

  Silverware rattles as I lift the plastic bin and set it on the counter. I slam down a stack of paper napkins next to it. The former NFL player recently moved back to Winter Valley and is enjoying the attention of being our local hero. I snort to myself. Some hero. He was thrown out of the league for fighting.

  Ekton, the short-order cook, calls to me from the window, “Trixie baby, fill up my coffee?” His mug slams against the metal surface that usually holds our orders.

  I reach for it and say, “Please don’t call me that.” The word baby for women is so demeaning. He says it’s sexy. Only I’m anything but, and today the nickname annoys me. Steam curls up as I pour hot liquid in Ekton’s mug.

  Everyone in town knows who Parker Hoyt is. But because he’s six years older than me, I’ve never seen him in person until today. I steal a glance at him before I turn to give Ekton his coffee. Parker’s a large man with a body that ripples with muscles. The two girls with him are beautiful and thin. My hand flies to my round stomach, and I wonder if abs exist underneath my cushion of fat.

  Ekton asks, “Hungry, baby girl?”

  My face flushes at another pet name, only this one embarrasses me. Because I’m likely to never be anyone’s baby girl. “You have to stop calling me those things; people will think we’re together. What would Jeannie say?”

  Parker’s deep laugh carries over to me all the way from his booth, and I’m distracted from Ekton when my insides tingle at the sound. Weird. That man’s sex appeal really is legendary.

  Ekton waggles his eyebrows at me, and I refocus as he asks, “Don’t you want some of this?”

  “Stop.” I’ve had enough of his taunting, and something inside me snaps. I say, “Because you know you don’t want this.” Tears burn in my eyes. I know I’m fat and don’t need him to remind me of it. I turn away and grab cutlery to roll in a napkin. My reaction was out of character for me, and I’m not sure why I’m suddenly so touchy.

  The kitchen door squeaks open, and a warm hand lands on my shoulder. I flinch and pull away. Ekton speaks in a low voice. “I’m sorry. Don’t you know I tease you because I think you’re hot?”

  I sniff and swipe a hand across my face before I glance at him. Ekton has always been nice to me, and I do know his banter is his way of letting me know he’s a friend. “It’s okay, I’m being oversensitive.”

  He flashes a kind smile. “Let me make you something to eat. You’re probably hungry. This diet you’ve been on is bad for my ego.”

  I can’t help but smile back. I say, “Okay, but please make it healthy.”

  “Anything for you, Trixie baby.”

  I roll my eyes as Darla returns and says, “Whew. If I thought I could get me some of that, I’d die a happy woman.”

  “Why?” I ask. The idea of being with a man like Parker that has had hundreds of women doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest.

  “Honey, sex is a beautiful thing. You should try it someday.”

  I look up to the sky. “Why do I work here?”

  Ekton says, “Because someone has to teach you the ways of the world.” A plate scrapes across metal as he pushes it toward me. “Here, lunch.”

  I glance at the scoop of tuna salad on top of salad greens and surrounded by tomato wedges. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. But I meant it. You’re hot enough the way you are.”

  “And you’re sweet.” I set my meal down at the counter. While it’s only ten in the morning, I need to eat before the lunch crowd arrives. Diet soda gurgles out of the pop machine, and I toss a scoop of crushed ice in as my cup fills. When I turn to walk over to my seat on the other side of the counter, the two women at Parker’s table slide out of the booth and make their way to the restroom.

  Darla says, “The last table’s all set, and I’m going out for a smoke.”

  I nod at her as I swallow a bite of tomato. I doubt anyone will come in, but I can stop eating to deal with them if they do. Ekton was right. I am hungry, and I put an oversized forkful of tuna in my mouth. I begin to chew when I sense someone behind me and am surprised when heat radiates toward me. I catch my breath at the way it assaults my senses and begin to choke when food goes down the wrong way.

  Tuna spits out of my mouth, and I grab a napkin just as something thumps my back hard. Oh God. Food flies out of my throat and lands on the counter with a plop. I close my eyes in horror that I just spit the contents of my mouth onto the counter.

  “Are you all right?” The deep tone reverberates throughout my body, and my nerve endings are suddenly on fire with lust.

  Strong hands grab my shoulders, and Parker turns me to face him. “Breathe. C’mon.” There’s a note of panic in his voice, and my eyes snap open as I inhale.

  He lets out a sigh. “Thank God, you’re okay.”

  He’s still holding onto my shoulders, and he stares at me with eyes so green I imagine they’re emeralds. His brow crinkles in confusion as he moves his palms slowly down my arms. I know it’s impossible, but I swear static electricity zing
s in the wake of his touch. Now I really can’t breathe, and Parker pulls his hands away to stare at his fingers. He returns his gaze to me and whispers, “It’s you.”

  My mouth opens, but I can’t speak.

  My trance is broken by a girl’s singsong voice. “Parker, we’re ready.”

  He blinks and backs away from me before he turns to walk out. I watch the two women take his arms. They both have model-like hair with curls that bounce. When they get to the door, Parker stops and lifts the tree-trunk-sized appendages up to shake them off. “Wait. I forgot something. I’ll meet you outside.”

  They appear puzzled but walk out anyway, and Parker stalks over to where I’m sitting. He practically growls when he asks, “Can I get a coffee to go? Black, please.”

  I nod quickly and scramble up like he’s given his lowly subject an order. My hand shakes as I pour coffee into a Styrofoam cup. I turn to the counter and am struggling with a cover when Darla pushes through the kitchen door.

  She huffs at me and grabs the plastic lid from me. “Trixie, hon, I’ve got it.”

  I glance at Parker to find he’s smiling in amusement. He reaches for the cup but doesn’t take his eyes off me as he says, “Trixie. I like it.” His gaze scans my body as if he can see through my clothes, and I have a sudden urge to cover my breasts with my arms. The last word rumbles as he says it. “Sexy.” He winks and turns to walk out.

  The moment he’s gone, Darla slaps my arm. “Holy shit. He would have done you on the spot.”

  I watch Parker move across the parking lot with a swagger while his groupies vie for his attention as if he’s a prized show dog. My heart pounds, and my mouth goes dry. I think I would have let him.

  2

  Winter Valley is a sleepy town, and our lunch rush is never too much for two waitresses and one cook to handle. Whenever I have a free moment, my mind returns to my strange encounter with Parker.

  I recall how large his hands were and the way he towered over me when he asked if I was okay. Yup, the man strikes terror in my heart. So why is it all I can think about is how his mouth would taste and what those fingers would feel like on my bare skin? I place my hand on my chest beneath the V neck of my uniform and notice my skin feels warmer than usual. It seems to happen every spring.

  “Trixie? Honey, are you feeling okay?” Darla places cool fingers on my forehead. “You have a fever.”

  I push her hand away, because my temperature runs hotter than most people. And it’s something I’ve learned only gets me questions I can’t answer. “I’m fine. Sometimes my allergies do this.” I pull out my standard lying game and yank at the neckline of my dress. “Do you see any hives?” I’m sure I don’t have any, but you’d be surprised how susceptible to suggestion people can be.

  “No. Huh. Well isn’t that strange.” Darla grabs two plastic tumblers to prepare drinks for her table.

  I shrug. “It’s normal for me. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Earth to Trixie. Food.” Ekton’s voice pulls me away from my daydreams.

  “Thanks.” I grab the sandwich plates and make my way over to a booth. The couple barely acknowledges me when I set the food down. I notice their drinks are full and don’t ask if they want more.

  I’m not sure what possessed me to apply for a waitress job. I prefer quiet places without any people. My mother thinks my new position is wonderful and tells me that it’ll help me come out of my shell. She doesn’t know I climb right back in the moment I walk out the diner door.

  I glance up to giggles and notice two girls from school come in and make their way to a table at the far end of the restaurant. They’re here often, and I walk over with a smile. “Two diet sodas?”

  “Yes. Please,” says Emily. Her straight blond ponytail is over her shoulder, and she twists it in her hand as she speaks.

  Emma is her best friend and has the same fair coloring. She studies me for a few seconds. “You have the hair I was just talking about. I would die to have thick, wavy locks like yours.”

  I flush at her compliment. Especially since before I started working here, these girls had no idea I existed. “Thanks.”

  Emily says, “You should totally get it cut into layers. It would take weight off the ends and let it curl.”

  A quick vision of Parker’s girlfriends flashes in my mind. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to style it.”

  “I’m sure the hairdresser could teach you. Besides, I think yours would just do it.”

  Emma pipes in. “You should go for it. I bet it would look great.”

  “Maybe.” I leave them to go get their drinks.

  When I’m at the soda machine, Carrie, another waitress, breezes out of the kitchen. “Hey there.”

  “Hi. How was the birthday party?” Carrie’s daughter turned three yesterday.

  “It was wonderful. Sticky fingers and lots of crying. I call that a success.” She chuckles as she ties her apron strings around her waist. Her eyes scan my body, and she speaks softly. “You’ve lost weight. It looks great.” She would notice. When I first started working here, my uniforms fit like a sack, and she altered them to give me a waist.

  “Thanks.”

  She says, “Let me know if you need me to take in your dresses. Might as well show off.”

  I smile at her before walking away with my table’s drinks. The compliments on my hair and weight improve my mood, and I end my shift on a good note.

  I step out into the cool night air. Spring in Winter Valley can be as cold as winter, and frosty vapor escapes my mouth as I make my way past the dumpsters, but I’m not cold. My internal furnace is a blessing in disguise right now. My mother and I live in the trailer park about half a mile away, and I like the walk. It gives me time alone after dealing with people all day.

  A vehicle door slams, and I glance over to discover a hulking figure coming my way. He’s as big as his truck, and a small adrenaline surge pumps through my veins when I realize who it is. Parker.

  I stop when his gaze traps me. He halts before me, and his chest heaves with his breathing. Parker takes a deep breath, and his eyes almost roll back in his head as all tension leaves his body as if he’s relieved it’s me. When he speaks, it’s low, and moisture pools between my legs at the sound. “Trixie.”

  I’m frozen in place and don’t react as his hands grip my arms lightly. There it is again. His touch seems to reach inside me, and my skin tingles, wanting more. I blink my eyes to break free of my paralysis and open my mouth to speak. But words don’t come out soon enough. Parker’s grip tightens, and his mouth lands on mine.

  Ouch. This isn’t a gentle kiss, and I pull back from it in shock. Shock that lasts for no more than a second, because the moment his tongue enters my mouth, I’m just as hungry. The smooth nylon of his jacket wads up in my fingers as I grasp at his chest to hold on for the ride. And what a ride it is. Our tongues tangle as we try to devour each other in starvation.

  Parker’s hands move to my hips, and he slides them over my butt to yank me against his body. An erection larger than I can fathom is pressed against my belly, and a shameless part of me wants to rub myself on his thigh. As if he read my mind, he shoves his leg between mine, and my throbbing core pushes against it.

  A tiny voice in my head yells at me, and I come to my senses. Oh my God! What am I doing? I pull my head back. “Stop.”

  I don’t think Parker hears me, and to be fair, I didn’t speak with much conviction, because he moves to my neck. He opens his mouth wide on it, and the idea of a hickey makes me yell as I try to shove him off. “Stop!”

  He immediately lets go and steps back. “What’s wrong?” He reaches for me, but I move back further. As if I’m a frightened animal, he speaks in a soft tone. “Don’t deny this. It won’t work.”

  My hands clench into fists at my sides as tears burn in my eyes. He thinks I should want sex in a parking lot because he’s the Parker Hoyt? What an asshole.

  I shake my head as I move backward. After a couple steps,
I turn and run. My sneakers slap against the frozen pavement as I race toward home. I’m not thinking clearly, because about halfway there I realize I should have run into the diner. But if Parker were going to come after me, I’d know by now.

  My throat is raw from the cold, and I slow down to a walk as I pant for air. I reach up and touch my bruised lips. That kiss was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. Lust twinges in my core. Oh my God. Something is seriously wrong with me if I’m into Parker Hoyt after what just happened. Damn him. Because I have no doubt he’s just become my favorite sexual fantasy.

  3

  “Hey, sweetie.” My mother’s voice is comforting, and if I thought I could get away with it, I’d run to her arms and have a good cry. But I don’t want the trouble her questions would uncover.

  “Hi.”

  She gazes up at me from the leather couch as she pushes hair out of her face. She sits cross-legged, as if she’s a kid, and is typing on a laptop. “I made brownies, if you want one.”

  The thought of rich chocolate is too tempting to resist, and I say, “I’m going to make hot cocoa to go with mine. Want some?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Mugs thud on the counter as I put them down, and I reach for the refrigerator door. “How’s the book coming?” My mom writes erotica, which is kind of funny when you consider her eighteen-year-old daughter is still a virgin. But nobody knows what she really does, because she tells people she writes freelance to avoid embarrassing me.

  “Pretty good. How was your day?”

  My parking lot encounter with Parker comes to mind. Probably similar to yours. Except my mother writes about consenting adults. Shame washes over me as buttons on the microwave beep. I was definitely saying yes until I told Parker to stop. A tiny shiver runs through me when I recall the way he made me feel. I was so small in his embrace. And so desired.