Evolve Series Box Set

by Hall, S. E.

  Dane puts a hand on my arm now, as if to hold me back. It’s funny, I’ve never put my hands on anyone, just talked. My dad had a golden rule of his own: “you best make sure they hit you first. Never start it, always finish it.” So until someone hits me, that’s all we’ll ever do—talk.

  “Zach, please come with me. Don’t choose them over me. I love you, just talk to me,” Avery begs, and we all wait silently. This part is totally Zach’s call.

  “Can you make sure she gets to her car safely?” he turns and asks Sawyer, almost looking sad, but really just seeming over it.

  “No prob.” Saw salutes him. “Let’s go, twin.”

  “I’ll see you,” she jabs her finger in my chest, “on the field.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” I smile, killing her with kindness. Besides, all she can do is hit me with a pitch, and that’s a free base, bitch, so bring it. Otherwise, pitch it and I’ll go yard on your ass all day. You show the hold in your glove, dumbass.

  We watch Avery slap at Sawyer as he walks her and two girls I don’t know out.

  Zach turns to the bar and slaps his hand down on it. “Shots!” he yells, shocking us all.

  Of course, we’re waited on immediately and I get my first intro to something called a Buttery Nipple. Delicious.

  Another one and I’m ready to get busy on the floor. There’s a slow song playing, so I have time to coax the boys out there with me. We make it just in time for “We Going Home” by Drake and I turn my back to Dane and pull his hands around me. My man can move, and our bodies find their rhythm with each other on their own.

  Though I’m usually not much of a dancer, I can definitely see the appeal. A few shots to loosen you up, the right song and the man you trust behind you, and it becomes more an erotic act than dancing.

  “You’re so fucking hot, baby,” he croons in my ear, his hands teasing just under the bottom of my shirt, finding the bare skin of my stomach. “I love you like this, so untamed. You dance like you fuck, smooth and sexy.”

  His words intoxicate me more than the alcohol. I can feel his hard-on pressed against my ass as he grinds his hips into me, swirling our lower halves in time to the beat. I throw one hand around his neck, arching my ass out and into him roughly, then really shake it, loving the sound of his groan over the beat.

  “You ready to leave, baby?”

  “No,” I giggle, knowing he’s dying to go, but I may never have the nerve to do this again—I’ve gotta make the night last.

  “Then we need to take a break or I’m gonna give it to ya right here.”

  I turn in his arms now, emboldened, and all of a sudden dying to try out a move I saw in a movie once. I fist his shirt in one hand and drop to the floor, then pull myself slowly back up his body, straddling one of his legs.

  “Fuckkkk,” he moans in my mouth as he grabs me by the back of the neck and kisses the hell out of me. “Enough. We leaving and doing this for real or not?” he pants, begging me with his eyes to pick the former.

  “Dayummm, Gidge, you been hiding your freak!” Sawyer laughs in my ear, now right beside us. “You guys, come on, everybody’s at a table. Whitley wants to do a toast.”

  I have to chuckle when Dane lets out a pouting huff and makes me drag him to join our friends. More shots are waiting when we get there and Whitley raises hers.

  “To old friends,” she taps her glass to Dane, Sawyer and Tate, “to new friends,” now she taps me, Bennett and Zach, “and to forevers.” She clinks with Evan last. “May this year be filled with love, laughs and straight A’s. Cheers!”

  We all join glasses now and down them, though this one not my favorite. Coconut, yuck. “Whitley, truth or dare?” I wipe my mouth and ask, amidst the collective moans of the guys.

  “I’ll go tell em’ last call,” Tate’s already in motion, “something tells me this just became a private party.”

  ***Dane***

  “Have you ever been this drunk before?” I ask my very inebriated, cute as hell girlfriend, currently chanting “The Roof’s on Fire” as we’re driven to my house.

  “Nope, have you?”

  I only did one shot, no one noticing, so obviously I’m fine but explaining that to her now would be futile. “Come here,” I chuckle and pull on her belt loops. She’s climbing around like a monkey and I think she’s about to go for a sing and spread your arms out the roof moment. “There’s no moon roof in this car, baby,” I try to explain as I pull her down into my lap. “You’re one sexy mess.”

  Tonight was great, though, aside from the one issue early on. After we’d closed the doors and thinned the crowd, Laney really let go finally, Whitley and Bennett happy to follow suit. You’d think with one fight and an appearance by an ex, we’d be out of highlights, but alas, it gets better. The most interesting part of the night had to be the drunken, more risqué than usual game of Truth or Dare, because of which I now know several new exciting facts. For starters, Whitley could easily be a pole dancer if she ever desires. Bennett has a belly button ring of a “T.” Sawyer does a mean worm and has seven piercings, which not only was he not allowed to show, but I refused to try and guess as to their whereabouts. Evan’s actually not a bad singer and can shotgun a beer fastest of the guys. Zach has a very white ass and cannot tie a cherry stem with his tongue to save it. My brother, when forced to judge, gives Laney “best ass” (tell me something I don’t know), Whitley “best tits” and Bennett “best all in one.” Yep, TOD led by drunk girls is super informative. And everyone else is now fully aware that I have some bossy tendencies in the bedroom—Laney’s truth share, not mine. Miss Too Many Shots Blabbermouth got ahead of herself though and spilled the beans about “Pussy Persuasion.” I could go on and on, but I’d rather just figure out a way to self-induce amnesia, except for the last part—I’m on to her now, the little minx.

  Her light snoring grabs my attention and I look down at the beautiful girl now asleep with her head in my lap, body curled into a little ball half on top of me. She’s gonna be a hungover bear tomorrow, but for now, for now she’s a snoring, snuggly angel. That sweet little mouth puckers as she blows out her signature puffs of air, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and her hands wrapped around my waist under my shirt. I brush the hair off her forehead and kiss her there. “I adore you, Laney Walker. I can’t wait to marry you.”

  “Okay,” she purrs, snuggling deeper into my side.

  God, what I’d give for her to say that sober and awake.

  CHAPTER 13

  ***Laney***

  “Sawyer, we’re gonna be late!” I scream through a mouth full of Crunchberries.

  There’s a knock at the front door, interrupting my breakfast. When I open it, I’m met with a sea of blue…roses. I gasp and reach for the vase, uncovering a young delivery boy.

  “Laney Walker?” he asks.

  “That’s me!”

  “Here you go,” he hands me a light blue envelope, “have a nice day.”

  I shut the door and take them to the kitchen counter, inhaling their sweet fragrance. I know who they’re from, but once again, he has floored me—where does one even find a blue rose? And this early in the morning? I open the card, more than anxious to read what it says.

  My Disney,

  I’m sorry I can’t see you off to your first day of sophomore year today. No doubt you look beautiful and will kick butt!

  Blue roses are thought to mean “the impossible” and eleven of any color mean “you are my treasure, that which I love most in my life.” Both are true. You are absolutely the most treasured and loved thing that will ever exist in my world, impossibly so.

  I will see you tonight. Nothing could keep me from it. I’ll want to hear all about your day. And how much you missed and loved me of course.

  Do your thing, baby,

  XOXO D

  “Gidge, you shouldn’t have.” Sawyer saunters in, grabbing my bowl of cereal. ”How’d you know blue were my favorite?”

  “Lucky guess,” I sigh, still on my
cloud. “You ready to go? I don’t want to be late the first day.”

  “Yup.” He turns up the bowl and drinks the milk. “I even made my bed and picked up my room like a good boy.”

  “Very nice.” I pat his chest. “Now have a great day, play nicely with the other kids and I’ll see you at lunch.”

  Sawyer’d moved in, just like he promised, and seems to be a bit more chipper every day. I haven’t asked and he hasn’t shared, but things seem…better. We walk out together, him locking the door behind us, and head down the driveway. “You want a ride?” I ask him, climbing into my truck.

  “Nah, I’ll take the bike. I have a long break in the afternoon, I’ll come home and make dinner. Meatloaf good? It’s my specialty.”

  “That’s sound great, Saw.”

  I can’t wipe the grin off my face as I drive to campus. Dane and I are fantastic. All my friends, including Sawyer, seem on track; happy or happier and healthy. My dad is dating. My mom learned to use the laptop we brought her to Skype with me at least once a week. Hayden’s doing great and Angie’s truly thrilled, chomping at the bit for her grandbabies to come.

  And always, I think of Evan. He may be happiest of all, so wrapped up in Whitley and now living with her, I might add, that the smile he permanently wears is bigger than my own. Whit got her lobster or seahorse or whatever she says, and Evan got his Juliet.

  We’re all just one, big, crazy, loving, extended family…forever entangled in one another’s lives, and pretty damn blessed.

  Life is good.

  Entice

  The Evolve Series, Book Three

  “Love is like a butterfly, it settles upon you when you least expect it.”

  Author Unknown

  Prologue

  Where do dreams come from? No one knows, and that’s what makes them cool; some are random as fuck, some stem from recent events, but never knowing what you’ll dream each night, how weird or erotic they’ll get, gives you that time with your mind to look forward to.

  When your dream’s the same every night, it becomes a god damn nightmare.

  I know, every single night, what I’m going to see from the time I close my eyes to the moment I drag my sorry ass out of bed in the morning. Without a doubt, I’m going to toss and turn in frustration, a rerun marathon of that night this past summer taunting me.

  This bachelor party, for Parker, who I’ve known maybe eight weeks. God, I’m jealous as hell of him. That Hayden of his fucking adores him, and she’s even hotter knocked up than she was before. And she dotes on his ass in a very independent, non-bloodsucking leech kinda way. Why can’t I find a girl like that?

  Obviously I’ve had too much tequila since I’m hosting my own little titbag party over here, feeling sorry for myself. Fuck this. I hold up two bills in my hand, I think they’re twenties, and Silver Cowboy Boots comes over, way too eagerly.

  Challenge me, dammit! Engage more than my dick!

  “What’s this get me?” I slur, shoving the bills at her.

  She kicks one ankle, then the other, getting my legs just as far apart as she wants them and climbs over them, onto my lap. “This,” she croons and starts to grind. Her attempt to pet my chest all sexy-like is an epic fail, snagging one way too long silver nail on my nipple ring. She better not rip my fucking shirt—I love this shirt.

  “How much to go in the back?” Two months on a farm is damn lonely.

  She cuts quick, nervous glances around, then leans into my ear. “Not my usual club, so not in here,” she whispers. “But for a hundred, I’ll meet you outside, after.”

  Just when I’m about to finalize the exact details, “Shook Me All Night Long,” my favorite song ever, starts blaring. Now this dance I gotta see, moving Dracula Nails off my lap and outta my view to the stage, aka the flat area in this place.

  Spank me and put me to bed…who the fuck is that?

  “Zach?!”

  Nothing.

  “Zach?!” I yell louder.

  “What?”

  “Who. Is. That?” I point to the, um, we’ll go with “dancer” for now.

  “Cause I know her? I think they said Karma or something, but I doubt you’d find her in the phone book under that. Why?”

  Look at him, trying to be all smartass… Well, he fucked it up, who the hell uses a phone book?

  “No reason.” I bounce my shoulders in what I hope looks like casual nonchalance, never taking my eyes off her. That may blow my cover, but damn if I could look away even if I tried.

  I’m thinking it’s the beer, strike that, tequila goggles; has to be. I was just dogging every chick who came near me, ready to pay for a meaningless quickie, a scratch to an itch, and sheer perfection happens to strut in to my favorite song?

  Yeah, and when I’m done here, I’m gonna ride home to the Playboy mansion on the flying fucking dragon that I bought with my lottery winnings.

  This isn’t real; up close she’s probably a big mess with bad breath and a whiny voice…and herpes. Gotta be.

  But here’s what I do know, no guessing, no wishful thinking, no maybe to it—take it to the bank: her hair is so dark and shiny that you can damn near see reflections in it and it has purple streaks in it—hot as hell. AND, wait for it… IT. IS. IN. BRAIDS.

  Usually two braids or ponytails are known as “handlebars” in my language, but on this girl, they’re cute; cute, wet dream-inducing braids.

  Her eyes are as dark as her hair, and hold the fear and anxiety of a kitten stuck in a drainpipe when it’s raining. I may never know where it came from, this instinct that up until this point I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles I didn’t possess, but I swear I hear her mind screaming to mine, “You’re big and strong, protect me, Sawyer, take care of me, hold me and make me unafraid!”

  That body of hers is tiny. Not frail, just petite, and tan and muscular…and her own. She turns it to the side and away from the onlookers and keeps her hands over her barely-covered breasts like the tease is part of the dance, but it’s not. I’d bet you a nut this girl has never danced or stripped before in her life. And if she has, she should stop immediately, because she absolutely sucks at it.

  Those come fuck me heels she’s wearing? They’re two sizes too big and she’s never walked in them before. Also something she should stop doing immediately. If the teetering and wobbling didn’t draw attention to her shapely legs, it’d just be sad, but the legs are worth the painful show. Oh and fuck me, she’s skipping around in a circle. I hope she doesn’t think that’s a good cover for her lack of dance skills…skipping, for crying out loud.

  And lastly, she loves this song. She’s mouthing the words, keeping her eyes unfocused and on the back wall, dying for everything but the song itself to be over. And when it is, she runs like she’s on fire for cover behind the curtain.

  “Who was that?” I ask Dracula Nails, still standing beside me.

  “New girl,” she answers snidely. “First night, can’t you tell?” she laughs.

  “Yeah, I can.”

  “So, I’ll see you later?” she curls those inflated lips at me.

  “Maybe. If I see ya I see ya.” I get up, walking over to Dane. “Where’d you get these girls?”

  “Hell if I know; Brock hooked it up.”

  “So the company, it’s local to us, like in Statesboro?”

  “I think so, why?”

  “Find out for sure. I’m gonna hit the can. Be right back.”

  I really do need to take a leak, but somehow I veer off course, peering behind the curtain like the Great and Powerful Oz will be waiting to hand me the 411 on this girl. I don’t see him, or her, only several other scantily clad women who only remind me how different she was. I want to bust in a demand they tell me her name and where she is, but I’m forced to duck out and shove the curtain back when their escort/bodyguard/whatever guy spots me.

  No worries, Dane can find out for me, that man has scary ways of digging up the buried. I hurry back from the bathroom and catch him just as he’s h
anging up his phone. “Well?”

  “Local company, kinda off the radar, Brock isn’t sure they’re on the Better Business Bureau, if you catch my drift.”

  “I don’t.”

  He leans into me, talking low and discreetly. “I know nothing, and I’m going to say this, walk out of here and never speak of it again. I may also fire Brock for being a dumbass. It’s some on the side thing for one guy, mostly underage college girls needing money.”

  “Fuck,” I mumble.

  “Fuck is right. My name is never to be associated with this, ever. I had no idea and I’ll kill Brock if he jeopardized any of us in any way. You hear me?”

  “Wait, so college, as in our college?”

  “Yes,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair, mad as hell.

  “My old job ready at The K?” Wait, better yet… “I’ll replace Brock even.”

  “You always have a job with me, Sawyer, you know that. Just say the word.”

  “Word. I’m heading back early. Don’t fire Brock until I say, okay? I need to talk to him first.”

  “You just fire him when you have what you need. My hands are washed of this whole thing. Now get the fuck out of here and pay for the party in cash. No paper, you hear me, Sawyer?”

  “Got it. Go, man.”

  Look out, Skipper, Daddy’s coming home.

  CHAPTER 1

  Sleepless In Statesboro

  ***Sawyer***

  “Why are we here again?” Zach questions me, looking around.

  “Put your pussy back in your pocket and shut the fuck up.”

  Since all my boys keep getting lost in the Bermuda Bush—as in they dive into her bush once and I never see them again—I’ve nominated Zach, the only single one left, as my new partner in crime. Though if he doesn’t quit his fucking whining, I’ll go solo.