by Alison Bliss
Table of Contents
Title page
Foolish Expectations
Dedication
Acknowledgements
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
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
About Alison Bliss
Also by Alison Bliss
Forever is the last thing they expected…
Lawyer Nash Sutherland encounters a spirited young woman with an untrusting nature in a Texas roadside bar. She’s as sexy as she is surly, and their undeniable attraction leads them to one night of pleasure…and a fateful condom mishap. By morning, the striking beauty has disappeared, but he can’t get her out of his head. She’s everything he wasn’t looking for, but now must find.
After one night of passion, Bailey Hobbs finds herself in an unexpected predicament. And the cause of it happens to be the persistent man standing in her living room, proposing a solution: marriage. She may be pregnant with Nash’s child, but after her past with a cheating ex, she refuses to put her faith in another man. But try telling that to a guy who argues for a living.
The only thing bigger than his…Stetson…is his ego, and Bailey knows firsthand how hard it is to resist Nash when he wants something. But she’s determined to keep him at an emotionally safe distance…one he refuses to allow. Because if Nash can’t get her to risk her heart once more, it will cost them the one thing that matters most.
Foolish Expectations
Alison Bliss
Foolish Expectations
Copyright © 2016 by Alison Bliss
Originally published in The Sutherlands anthology March 2016
Cover design by Alison Bliss
Stock Photo by Dollar Photo Club
Edited by Gwen Hayes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the author’s written permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violations of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is purely coincidental.
Dedication
Hey, Mom. It’s me!
Thank you for all your love and support,
and for encouraging me from the beginning.
Love, Alison…Bliss
(Just in case you forgot who it was.)
Acknowledgements
As always, thank you to my loving husband, Denny, and my amazing boys, Matthew and Andrew, for their never-ending support. I love you guys more than you’ll ever know! To my parents, thanks for continuing to be proud of me, even though I write dirty books. Thank you to my mother-in-law, Terry, for loving said dirty books. You have great taste! Much love to my four sisters—Annita, Amanda, April, and Andrea—who, without me, would have to fight to the death to become Dad’s favorite.
A big hug to Carol Pavliska for always giving great notes and huge amounts of encouragement. Thank you to Sonya Weiss for your friendship and for being an amazing person. High-five to The Floozies for being such a fun, fierce group of women who always have each other’s back, including mine. You ladies are the best!
I couldn’t do it all without my amazing PAs: Barbara Campbell, Dana Leah, Crystal Wegrzynowicz (I spelled it right this time!), Cindy Yocum, and Tessa Walters. Huge thanks to the Pure Bliss Street Team, who has always supported me in everything I do. You are all amazing, and I can’t imagine going on this journey without you. I have made so many lifelong friends in our group. You guys are unbelievably awesome!
My sincerest gratitude to Gwen Hayes for her brilliant editorial skills and for caring so much about her authors. I adore you, woman! Also, thank you to Judi Weiss for the fabulous copyedits. You are a sweetheart!
I’d like to thank the other authors in The Sutherlands anthology: Robin Covington, Kelly Jamieson, Terri Osburn, Avery Flynn, Abby Niles, Shyla Colt, Julie Particka, Naima Simone, and Joya Ryan. Never a dull moment with you crazy girls!
And last, but never least, a huge thank you goes out to all the readers, bloggers, and reviewers who have sent so many lovely messages to me and have helped spread the word about my books! I truly believe I have the most awesome fans in the world. You guys are amazing!
Chapter One
Bailey Hobbs thought her day couldn’t get any worse. But the moment she stepped inside the small roadside bar in Flat Rock, Texas, she proved herself wrong.
Rowdy’s was jam-packed with Stetson-wielding cowboys and not nearly enough women to go around. The men to women ratio was easily twenty to one, and most females in attendance seemed to be already coupled with their picks of lucky bachelors. Which meant every unattached male in the room had looked up, interest gleaming in their eyes, as she’d entered the bar.
It was almost enough to make her turn around and high-tail it back the way she’d come. Almost. But sore feet trumped discomforting men any day of the week. And Bailey’s feet were killing her. Two long miles in tight, three-inch heels on uneven asphalt had that effect on a girl.
Rowdy’s was apparently the place to be on a Saturday night. Not that she’d know, since she never frequented bars, and this was the first time she’d ever wandered into the place. Okay, so limped in was more like it.
She hobbled through the crowd, ignoring the pack of wolf-whistling males who tried to snag her attention as she passed. When she reached a wall of men wearing shit-eating grins and deliberately blocking the aisle ahead of her, Bailey circled toward the bar where she spied a small gap.
A cowboy stood there with his chair pushed back, leaning against the bar with one elbow as he spoke to the bartender. The gap between him and the chair was just large enough for her to slide through. But as she squeezed through the tight space, the man shifted his position, and she ended up rubbing her chest across his back.
He stiffened and glanced over his right shoulder, his crystal blue eyes landing on hers. A smile crept onto his lips. Then he seared a laser beam gaze across her chest that would’ve cut glass. Blatant sexual interest sparked in his eyes, and his tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip. He gave her a wink and tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”
Bailey stood frozen, blinking at him, but she didn’t know why.
Her white sheath dress hugged her curves like a second skin, but it only dipped low enough in the front to display a tasteful—yet apparently mouth-watering—hint of cleavage. Even still, it wasn’t the first time a guy had admired her assets. Hell, she’d just strolled through a wild herd of stallions, chomping at the bit to get her attention, and it hadn’t fazed her one bit.
Yet something about the way this man groped her intimately with his eyes had knocked her off balance. His heated look shouldn’t have flustered her, but it did. And judging by the way he grinned, he enjoyed that way more than the actual rubbing she’d performed on his backside.
“Are you going to stand th
ere blocking the aisle all night, or are you going to move?” The feminine voice had a festering bite, breaking Bailey from her trance-like state.
She turned to find a woman standing behind her, arms crossed, and reeking of liquor. Bailey recognized her. Just moments before, the same girl had been arguing with her boyfriend in the parking lot. And if the scowl was any indication, it hadn’t ended well.
“I’m still waiting,” the girl rudely noted.
Jeez. Impatient much?
Bailey quickly found her feet and continued on her way, sitting at the only empty table available near the far wall. She glanced back at the bar, but Miss Crankypants had already moved on. The cowboy, however, continued staring at Bailey, studying her from a distance. He smiled, as if he were waiting on an invitation…one he wouldn’t receive. At least not from her.
Bailey was in no mood for company. Especially of the male variety. Been there, done that. Even bought the damn T-shirt. It was a mental souvenir she’d gladly return if she hadn’t lost it somewhere in the shambles of her life. Too bad that wouldn’t work—taking a disappointing memory and returning it for a full refund of the emotional purchase price.
She rubbed her throbbing temples. Yeah, right. If only things were that simple.
Her life was already chock-full of complicated choices. After the day she’d had, the only decision she felt capable of making was what kind of drink she needed.
First things first, though.
She kicked off her tight-ass shoes and released a sigh of relief. The torturous white pumps with a skinny heel landed somewhere under the table in God knows what, but Bailey didn’t care. At least she was off her feet.
She propped her aching bare feet up in the chair across from her, and with a subtle wave of her hand, she flagged down a passing waitress. The tiny woman looked as delicate as a fairy, but flitted around customers with speed and accuracy.
“What can I get for you, sweetie?” the waitress asked, her voice sounding almost as harried as her feet. “Martini or a vodka tonic?”
“How about a beer?”
“Hmm. Didn’t see that one coming. In that fancy get-up, you don’t seem like the type. Bottle or tap?”
“Bottle.”
“My kind of girl.” The waitress winked and then moved through the crowd, ducking and dodging until she careened up to the bar.
It dwarfed her and it was arguable whether or not the tiny thing could actually see over the counter. Instead of looking like a waitress fetching a beer, she looked more like a child ordering two scoops of chocolate from an ice cream truck. Only difference was, in here, she was surrounded on both sides by grown men. One of who happened to be the guy with the staring problem.
And it had become chronic.
His body faced the bar, but his neck craned sideways, keeping his intense eyes on her. She hated to admit it, but there was something intriguing—and unnerving—about the way he focused all of his attention on her.
Tufts of dark brown hair peeked out from beneath the back of his black hat and curled at the collar of his gray plaid western shirt. His unshaven five o’clock shadow darkened his jawline, but somehow he still didn’t appear to be as rough around the edges as some of the other men in the room.
No, actually he stood out. Neatly pressed clothing. Clean, polished snakeskin boots. The expensive-looking gold watch on his left wrist. This guy was no slouch. Oh, he was definitely all male, all right, and—judging from the size of his biceps pressing against his shirt—he looked like the kind of guy who could handle himself in a fight. But she’d bet anything that he was one of those weekend warrior types who didn’t shave or style his hair until Monday morning before work.
It was possible he thought the rough appearance made him tougher-looking to the other men in the room. But as far as women went, it didn’t matter. This cowboy actually looked more dangerous when he smiled—if that was even possible.
Okay, so he isn’t bad-looking. There, she admitted it. Just because she wasn’t interested didn’t mean she was blind.
His tight jeans displayed well-muscled thighs and an outstanding ass—two things any woman appreciated on a hot-blooded cowboy. But that didn’t mean she had any intention of engaging in innocent flirting. Nothing involving this man would be considered innocent. Indecent, maybe. Probably.
Her gaze continued up his body until it landed on his smiling face.
Oops. So much for deterring his unwanted attention.
She immediately shifted her eyes and glanced around the room, seeking out other women in the bar. Some spun circles in flouncy skirts and stomped their pink boots on the dance floor, while others sat at tables surrounded on all sides by eager men waiting to ambush them. A few were even being force-fed hard liquor to lower their inhibitions…and probably their standards.
That’s when she noticed the rude chick perched at the end of the bar. Like Bailey, she was sitting alone. The young woman tossed back a double shot of something resembling tequila, then held up her finger for another. Undoubtedly, the girl was nursing a broken heart and chasing away her sorrows with alcohol. Sad thing was, she’d most likely end up in the back of a horse trailer later, letting one of these young studs fuck her brains out just to boost her damaged ego.
Bailey’s gaze flickered back to her watcher. Probably someone like him.
He rose an eyebrow as if he had read her dirty thoughts, and her heart thumped an extra beat. Her stomach twisted into a knot, so she stiffened her posture and turned away. She was trying her best to look disinterested, but somehow kept fumbling up. Hard to ignore someone who refused to ignore you back.
A minute later, the waitress returned and set a beer in front of Bailey, refusing to take the credit card she held out. Instead, the waitress motioned back to the bar. “The gentleman asked me to send his regards.”
The smug man tipped his bottle up, took a long pull, and then gave her a quick wink. It didn’t surprise Bailey nearly as much as it pissed her off. “Gentleman, my ass. Does that shit really work on the women in here?”
The waitress shrugged. “Apparently.”
“Well, I prefer to buy my own beer.” Bailey shoved her credit card into the waitress’s hand. “Tell Romeo I’m not interested, but the drunk, broken-hearted woman across the bar to his right would make for a decent consolation prize.”
The waitress laughed and bumped Bailey with her hip. “Oh, honey, you just made my night! Nash Sutherland has always been too handsome for his own good. You can bet your ass I’m going to relay that message with a smile on my face.”
Bailey gave her a terse nod. “Good.”
Instead of walking away, though, the waitress leaned closer to her. “Thing is, sweetie, that’s probably not going to deter him.”
“What, this Nash guy doesn’t believe in no meaning no?”
“Oh, nothing like that,” the waitress said, shaking her head. “He’s a good guy. It’s just…well, I don’t think he’s ever had a woman tell him no before.” Then she headed for the bar with the credit card in her hand and a sly grin on her face.
It was only then Bailey realized exactly what the waitress meant. When she approached him and told him the bad news, the gorgeous bastard looked more than a little stunned. He’d obviously expected Bailey to bat her eyelashes and invite him over with a crook of her finger. Because, clearly, that was the way it went for someone like him. Not many women—if any—turned him down.
As the waitress continued to speak to him, he glanced over to the depressed, glassy-eyed woman across the bar, then flicked his eyes back to Bailey. His jaw tightened and a coolness took over his face.
Bailey couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. She held up her beer in a casual “cheers” motion, encouraging him to pursue more lucrative ventures…or easier women. But he apparently didn’t get the message. If anything, her unintentional taunt had the opposite effect, as if she’d inadvertently issued him a challenge.
A firestorm flashed through his eyes. Definite insult. Mo
stly anger. Probably a little emasculation. He drained his beer, motioned to the bartender for two more, and grinned like a devil who’d just wagered on her soul.
Shit. Time to go.
Bailey stuffed her sore feet back into her heels, grabbed her purse, and started to stand, but in her hurry, she bumped the table and knocked her beer over. The bottle clanged against the wooden surface as the liquid poured out. Damn it. What the hell is wrong with me? The stupid cowboy had flustered her once again. She sat back down, turned the bottle upright, and used the only two bar napkins she had to soak up the mess. It wasn’t doing the job.
A few tables over, a young guy jumped up, grabbed a handful of napkins, and offered his assistance. “Here, let me give you a hand.”
“Thanks,” she said, sopping up the last of it. “I spilled a whole beer.”
“That’s all right. I already ordered you another,” he said just as the waitress appeared next to him with another round of drinks.
“Oh, no. That’s okay. I was just leaving.”
He paid and tipped the waitress, then set the beer down in front of Bailey with a persistent clunk. “No need to rush off.” He grabbed a chair, turned it around, and sat on it backward next to her, blocking the only escape route she had. “We’ve barely gotten to know each other. At least drink the beer I bought before you go. You don’t want to waste another one, do ya?”
“Sorry. I appreciate it, I do. But I have to work in the morning,” she said, rising from her chair.
The man grabbed her hand and tugged her back into place. “Aw, come on. You can’t leave yet. I didn’t even get a chance to ask you your name.” His calloused hand landed firmly on her knee.
She tensed. “It’s…uh, Sheila, but I really should—”
“Pretty name for such a pretty lady.” His hand quickly worked its way up her bare thigh.