MR. JANUARY
Calendar Boys Series
NICOLE S. GOODIN
COPYRIGHT
Mr. January
Published by Nicole S. Goodin
Digital edition
ISBN: 978-0-9951168-0-1
Copyright 2019 by Nicole S. Goodin
All rights reserved. ©
This ebook is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Mr. January
First published January 2019
All rights reserved. ©
Cover design by Nicole Goodin
Images purchased from Shutterstock
Editing by Spell Bound
DISCLAIMER
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, places, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The author acknowledges all song titles, song lyrics, film titles, film characters, trademarked statuses and brands mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners.
Nicole S. Goodin is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.
CONTENTS
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
EPILOGUE
THANK YOU!
MR. FEBRUARY
OTHER TITLES
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PLAYLIST
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
UPCOMING TITLES
DEDICATION
For all the babes born in January
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This book has been written using UK English and may contain euphemisms and slang words that form part of the New Zealand spoken word.
Please remember that the words are not misspelled. They are slang terms and form part of everyday, New Zealand vernacular.
I.e: I’m from New Zealand and sometimes we say weird things down here… please try and be cool about it.
CHAPTER ONE
Andy
I lift my head and frown as I hear yelling from outside the office door.
It sounds like a woman, and a pissed off one at that.
I don’t know what the hell is going on out there, but in my experience, there’s only one place you want to hear a woman screaming – and that’s in the bedroom.
“That’s gotta be your fault.” Jeff shoots me an accusing look and I shrug at him.
I’ve had my fair share of woman dramas over the years, but being locked up in a jail cell for the past three years put a swift fucking end to my love life.
“I know that bastard’s in there, and I don’t care if I get sent to prison myself, I’m going to damn well get what I came here for,” the woman yells.
“That’s got you written all over it, Wood,” he warns me.
I’m about to respond when the door to the room flies open and crashes against the wall with a loud bang.
The curvy redhead responsible for all the damn noise snarls as her gaze lands on me.
Jeff might be a total pain in the ass most of the time, but he was right – this does have me written all over it.
And thank fuck for that.
She’s a sight for sore eyes.
I throw my arm over the back of my chair and lean back as I watch her, a cocky smirk on my face – I know it’ll piss her off and that’s the reason I do it.
Today must be my lucky day, I’d been hoping I’d get to lay eyes on that fine ass of hers soon, but I hadn’t been expecting her to deliver it right to me on a plate like this.
I thought I was going to have to work a bit harder to get this little show, but maybe there’s some good karma left on my side after all – then again, maybe not, given the death glare being sent my way.
“Dylan, what do I owe this pleasure?” I drawl.
She stalks over until she’s standing right in front of me, radiating fury.
If there’s one thing I’ve never failed to be able to do, its drive this woman wild – and it doesn’t appear that anything has changed in that department.
She might be fuming mad, but fuck she is still so beautiful. She smells the same too – like strawberries and coconut. Just one moment in her personal space and I’m totally and utterly hooked on her again.
The stack of papers she’s holding in her hand land down with a thud on the table, shaking the entire thing and spilling Tony’s coffee all over his work.
I glance at him, but he hasn’t even noticed the mess – he’s too busy watching the woman causing a scene in front of everyone with his jaw dropped.
I almost feel bad for not giving my manager warning that something like this could happen – but in all honesty, he seems to be appreciating the view nearly as much as I am. I might have to give him a different type of warning.
“Cut the shit, you cocky little convict, you know exactly why I’m here,” she hisses, drawing my eyes and my thoughts back to her.
I lazily pick up the papers she’s shoved in my direction and make a show of looking them over as if I don’t already know exactly what they are.
I knew what they were the moment I laid eyes on her.
They’re the same papers she’s sent me nearly every month for the past three years.
“Just sign the fucking papers so I can divorce your stupid ass,” she says.
“Gentlemen,” I announce to the room full of my staff, ignoring her demands as I do, “have you all met my wife?”
CHAPTER TWO
Dylan
“Coffee?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Tea?”
“No.”
“Juice?”
“I don’t want a god damn drink, Andy, just sign the papers so I can get on with my life,” I snap.
He turns and glances over his shoulder at me – his signature bad-boy smirk still firmly on his face.
It’s the same smirk that made me look twice all those years ago, and I hate myself for the little flip in my belly it still causes.
It pains me to admit it, but prison has been kind to him. He looks good.
Fuck good, he looks incredible.
Even better than the day we met, or the day we got married for that matter. I’d been hoping he’d got fat or bald during his time inside, but instead, he’s somehow only got better looking.
“You and I both know I’m not signing those.” He chuckles as though the very idea of our impending divorce is a joke to him.
We haven’t seen each other for three years, and
even though it would seem that he’s still very capable of making my insides quiver, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s not my husband anymore.
The man that left me three years ago isn’t coming back.
“Sign them.” I smack my hand down on the papers, the action far more confident than the way I feel on the inside.
He turns around slowly, and I can feel my heart rate accelerate in my chest at the very thought of him coming closer to me.
Yip, I really do hate myself.
I ready myself to step back away from him, but he doesn’t come any nearer, instead turning, so he’s resting his hip against the counter top.
He crosses his arms arrogantly against his chest as he continues to stare at me with those familiar brown eyes.
The muscles in his forearms tense and bulge, and I have to swallow deeply to keep from drooling.
I can see the tattoo that runs down his bicep and I know I shouldn’t care, but I desperately want to see the rest of it again.
Shit.
I need a pep talk, and pronto.
This encounter is heading into dangerous territory and he hasn’t even attempted to touch me yet – the well thought out plan I had in my mind is heading south, fast.
I try to picture my friend Sarah in my mind. She’d tell me that I’m a strong, independent woman who ‘doesn’t need no man’ – complete with side-to-side finger snaps.
Only right now I don’t feel all that independent or strong, in fact I feel weak, like an alcoholic looking at a glass of whiskey.
And Jesus Christ I’m thirsty.
“You’re a smart woman, Dylan, you know I’m not signing those papers, so why did you really come here?”
He steps forward now, and it’s all I can do not to turn and flee. I try to stand a little taller. The last thing I need is for him to think he’s got the upper hand over me again. Even if the reality is that he does.
I watch him prowl towards me as though I’m his prey, and the frightening thing is, I am.
“How’d you know where to find me?”
“Jeff,” I say. “Your sidekick told me you’d be here.”
I probably shouldn’t throw Jeff under the bus, especially since he clearly didn’t rat me out, but it’s too late now, my mouth has answered him before my brain even considered that I shouldn’t.
“You didn’t visit,” he murmurs as he approaches.
I’m not sure if it’s intentional or not, but there’s an edge of hurt to his tone. It makes me feel guiltier than I’d like it to.
“Prison isn’t really my scene.”
“You didn’t call.”
“I had nothing to say,” I reply.
He’s so close to me now, and just like I feared, all I can smell is his stupid, intoxicating, manly scent.
My mind floods with memories of falling asleep and waking up to the very same smell – it’s been hard enough to forget those little things when he was gone, let alone now, when he’s close enough to touch.
He’s still wearing his ring, and while I hate that he is, part of me is elated that he still considers himself taken – that’s how fucked up my brain is.
He reaches out and runs his fingers slowly down my bare arm.
I shudder. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. I don’t want to be affected by him, but it’s the way I’m wired. There’s just something about him that connects to a hidden part of me that nobody else knows about.
No other man has ever evoked this type of reaction in me.
I’ve tried to move on, I really have, but no one else has come anywhere close.
“Please sign the papers,” I plead with him in a whisper, abandoning my former tactic of appearing strong and in control.
“You know I can’t do that,” he says.
His voice is deep and gravelly; it’s the very voice that makes me crave him.
I don’t want to ask him, but the question falls from my lips without my permission. “Why not?”
“You’re my wife. Three years in a jail cell doesn’t change that,” he growls.
He’s wrong. Him leaving me for all that time did change things.
Everything changed the moment he decided that being a thief was more important than being my husband.
I can’t let him walk all over me and weaken me with his sex appeal.
I have to stay strong.
I can almost feel my spine straighten as my resolve strengthens.
“It changed things for me,” I tell him.
I brush his hand off from where it sits on my skin and round the small table, putting a solid barrier between us.
His hand lingers in thin air before dropping to his side.
He sighs.
“I want a divorce,” I say.
“I don’t.” He almost growls the words.
“I guess we’ll have to go to court then.”
I make the mistake of looking at him again and I’m surprised to see his usually cocky expression is missing from his face.
He looks so handsome when he’s vulnerable, and I know I need to get out of here right now before I do something really, really stupid.
A raw, real Andy is far more threatening to my self-control than an arrogant one could ever be.
I point to the papers. “I’m leaving them. I want them signed by tomorrow.”
I turn on my heel and I’m almost safely out the door before I hear him speak again.
“You never even asked me if I did it or not.”
I pause for a fraction of a second.
He’s right – I didn’t ask him. He was guilty. I didn’t need to ask him.
I could ask him now, but I’m not sure I can bear to hear his confession.
It nearly broke me, just being told about what he’d done, but hearing those words from the man himself will be the final blow, one I can’t handle.
I walk out the door and let it swing closed behind me.
CHAPTER THREE
Andy
I punch the table and swipe the stack of papers she left behind onto the floor with a swing of my arm.
I collapse into a chair and drop my head onto the table with a loud, defeated groan.
I was not prepared for this – not today.
I knew I’d see her soon, but I expected it to be on my terms – when I was ready for it – not hers.
I had no idea she even still thought of me. Other than the monthly delivery of a request for divorce, I haven’t heard from my wife since I first got put behind bars.
She obviously knows more than she’s let on – she knew I was out.
I might be a tattooed, stereotypical bad boy, now with the ex-con tag to match, but I’m not too tough to miss my woman.
She might have repeatedly tried to wash her hands of me, but I still want nothing else more than I want her.
I’ve wanted that woman from the first moment I laid eyes on her.
“She’s still too hot for you, bro.” A mocking voice interrupts my pity party.
I raise my hand and shoot Jeff the middle finger.
She is too hot for me – always has been. Her hair might be longer, and her curves a little less full, but she’s still the same stunning woman she always was.
I hear his footsteps and the sound of the chair legs dragging against the flooring as he sits down opposite me.
“All the boys got a front row seat to that,” I mutter. “That’s just fucking great.”
“They’re still talking about it now. It’s not every day the boss’s wife comes in throwing shade around.”
“Shit.”
I haven’t been able to be a hands-on boss for more than the past few days, and already I’m bringing drama into the garage. As entertaining as our staff might have thought it was – it’s not a good look.
“I wouldn’t sweat it, Wood, half of them think she’s hot and the other half are scared shitless of her.”
I chuckle humourlessly.
“So… she wants a divorce?”
“Nothin
g new there,” I say.
“You gonna give it to her?”
My head rises so I can look at him. If looks could kill, the bastard would be dead. He might be my oldest buddy, but if he’s going to say shit like that, I’ll have to knock his head in. He’s already talked to her behind my back and then neglected to mention it to me. As far as I’m concerned, he’s had his first strike.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he says quickly.
“You can take it as a fuck no.”
He nods and leans back in his chair. “I was just asking. Don’t go getting your knickers in a knot, precious.”
I glare at him.
“You could have given me a heads up.”
“You’re right. I could have.” He shrugs.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You on her side now?”
“Don’t be a child. There are no sides… She’s hurting, man.”
“She’s hurting? I’m the one who spent years behind bars and lost my fucking wife in the process. This hasn’t exactly been a great time for me either, for fuck’s sake.”
“That’s on you, Wood. It’s like I always told you… you play with fire long enough, you’re gonna get burnt – but you’ve always been the type of dumbass that has to learn things the hard way.”
“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know. And that’s all well and good now – but what’s done is done. She just wants to be rid of me, a quick, easy end.”
“Don’t go thinking it wasn’t tough on her, man, it was hard enough for me to watch. I can’t even imagine how much pain she was in.”
“She didn’t watch though, did she? She just walked away,” I snap.
None of this is his fault, and I know I shouldn’t be acting like such a prick, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
Mr. January: A Second Chance Romance (Calendar Boys Book 1) Page 1