Wanted: A Bad Boy Romance

by Hawk, Maya

  I’m sure a therapist gave her that nugget of wisdom, but it doesn’t make it any less true. She’s right.

  “Lauryn’s hurting. It’s going to take a while to undo a decade worth of damage,” I say. “But I think she’ll get there.”

  “Oh, honey, did I tell you they’re honoring me at the Annual Goldstein Gala?” My mother flits from one topic to another like a hummingbird flits from bird feeder to bird feeder. “I’m the guest of honor. It’s next month. The twenty-first. Will you care to escort me? I’ll need a date.”

  I laugh. “Yes, Mother. I’ll be your date.”

  She smiles and continues rambling on about how great it feels to be honored once again. She mentions something about a lifetime achievement award and then somehow that turns into a spiel about how she had to fire her decorator and ended up hiring college intern with more talent in his pinky finger than anyone she’s ever worked with combined.

  I sit back and let her talk, and when she retires for the evening, I send Lauryn a goodnight text. I want her to know I’m always thinking of her.

  Always.

  I wash up for bed and set the alarm on my phone, mentally calculating my morning routine so that I’m not late arriving at the airport.

  I check my phone one last time before shutting off the light.

  No response.

  TWENTY-FIVE – LAURYN

  It’s way too early to be up. This is not normal. This is not natural. I take scalding sips of hot coffee, letting it burn my throat on the way down. The faster it works its way to my bloodstream, the better off I’ll be. I’m still on east coast time, and this is brutal.

  My foot twitches wildly. I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be, but I am.

  I’ve secured a seat on a Miami-bound plane that departs LAX in less than an hour, and there’s no sight of Sutton yet. Knowing my luck, he cancelled his flight so he could harass me into coming home with him even more.

  That boy is relentless.

  I smile, finding his determination charming and amusing and admirable. The fact that I can admit that now, that I can be comfortable admitting Sutton Pierce is the best thing that’s ever happened to me speaks volumes. I barely recognized myself that morning as I got ready, but I have a hunch I’m going to love the girl I’m becoming.

  Throngs of travelers make their way to their terminals in burst of people. A group of people chatting idly pulls my attention to my left. They take up the entire walkway, walking shoulder to shoulder, and I sit up in an attempt to see over them.

  The moment they clear, I see him.

  “Sutton,” I mouth, loving the way his name feels coming from my lips. I sit there, smiling like an idiot, and waiting for him to notice me. And then I rise. He steps in my direction, a leather messenger bag slung across his chest and a coffee in his hand. His hair is still shower-damp, and I can only imagine how delicious he smells.

  His gaze lifts until he sees the terminal sign, stops short, and scans the area for a free seat. And that’s when he sees me.

  I stand with bated breath, hoping for a hint or sign that he’s happy to see me. He doesn’t smile immediately. He doesn’t come running into my arms. This isn’t a movie scene.

  He marches toward me and drops his bag at my feet. “You didn’t text back last night.”

  My brows furrow. “I-I was sleeping. I had to get up early this morning.”

  He still hasn’t smiled, and that’s concerning to me because we’re due to sit next to one another on this plane in less than an hour, and several hours sitting next to someone who suddenly doesn’t want anything to do with you is bound to feel all kinds of horrible.

  Without warning, his hands find my jaw and he smashes his mouth upon mine. His kiss is unapologetically bold. He wants the world to know, once again, that I am his.

  And I am.

  I. Am. His.

  “Ladies and gentleman, we will now begin boarding flight 352, non-stop to Miami. If you’ll…” the flight attendant’s voice booms over the speakers, and he peels his mouth off mine. We’re both gasping for air, and our lips curl in tandem.

  “I’m going to need a place to live, you know,” I say. “I kind of quit my job.”

  “You won’t have to worry about a damn thing, Lauryn.”

  EPILOGUE – LAURYN

  One Year Later

  “Ah, look at that.” I flip to the back of the Miami Herald where an advertisement for a local used car dealership takes up the entire thing. “Cheapest cars in town. Nobody beats Dealy Dan’s Domestic Dealership. Did you know they’ll take any old trade-in? Even if it doesn’t run?”

  Sutton removes his sunglasses, turning to me with a smirk as he finishes his bite of his breakfast bagel. “You want a new car?”

  “No,” I laugh. “Look.”

  I hand him the newspaper with my finger pointing to a photo at the bottom. Dealy Dan’s staff is pictured along with their cell phone numbers, and James’ picture is smashed right in the middle.

  “James.”

  Sutton brings the paper closer to his face, as if it can’t possibly be James. “No way. He wouldn’t work at a used car dealership…”

  “I can’t imagine Colette DuBois hung around long enough to watch him fall to his social-status death,” I huff. “Daughter of an oil baron dating a used car salesman? I don’t think so.”

  “He lost it all, baby,” Sut laughs. “I believe that’s what you call karma.”

  The faint sound of a baby trails toward us, drifting on a breeze through the window of our next door neighbor’s house. It makes me smile, and I look over at Sutton. He’s smiling too.

  “Soon,” he says. “I know you’re anxious to get started with that next chapter.”

  “I know,” I say. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have baby fever something fierce. Something about knowing you’re with the most amazing person in the world, the person you’re going to spend your life with, makes waiting to get your life started unbearably tortuous. “I just want these next thirty days to fly by.”

  “They will,” he says. “A month from now, we’ll be strolling the white sandy beaches of Turks and Caicos as man and wife.”

  “So weird,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Like I never thought you’d be my husband.”

  Sutton drops the paper to the side, reaching for me and pulling me into his lap. Our breakfasts sit half-eaten on our patio table. The sun rises over the horizon, threatening to bring with it some humid Miami heat, but none of it matters.

  “I knew. I always knew.” His sturdy doctor hands cup my face, pulling me in for a kiss. “I knew I’d find a way to make you mine eventually.”

  “I never stood a chance, did I?” I laugh. “You’d never let me get away.”’

  “Never.”

  “Good.”

  He kisses me again, longer, slower. Our mouths dance and our tongues flirt. He has to leave for work soon. Those babies won’t deliver themselves.

  “Will you deliver our baby?” I ask, pulling away.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know, when we have kids someday. Will you deliver ours?”

  Sutton doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t pause or think about it. He shakes his head. “No, never.”

  I arch an eyebrow. I’m truly shocked. What doctor wouldn’t like to deliver his own children if he could?

  “I’ve always wanted to be on the other end,” he says, running his hand along my thigh sweetly. “I’ve always wanted to be at the head of the bed, holding my wife’s hand, keeping her calm, reminding her to breathe. I want to be surprised when the baby comes out, and I want to be snapping pictures from the moment the baby takes its first breath until it finds comfort in the arms of its mother.”

  I wipe away a tear. “That’s some deep stuff, Sutton.”

  For a tattoo-donning, cock-pierced, baby doctor, Sutton has proven, once again, that he can’t be pegged. He’s Sutton Pierce: one of a kind and strictly mine.

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this,” he says
, reaching for his coffee and pulling in a careful sip.

  I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe in his soapy, showery fragrance. “I wish you could call into work today.”

  He laughs. “We go through this every time. Doctors don’t get sick.” He kisses my mouth, tasting like toothpaste and bagel. “You need to get ready for work. Those kindergarteners need their fearless leader.”

  I rise up, letting him stand and silently permitting him to go to work. I watch as he slips his keys into his pockets and waves before turning to head inside. One month from now, he’ll be my husband.

  My everything.

  But then again, he always was.

  THE END

  Thanks for reading Pierced! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.

  Love,

  Maya

  Click here to go back to Chapter One of Wanted.