Mr. January: A Second Chance Romance (Calendar Boys Book 1)

by Nicole S. Goodin

  Words like that aren’t going to end well for my self-control.

  “What is this place?” I ask him as I look around in bewilderment.

  He’s still got hold of my hand, but I let him keep it. Besides the fact that I like the feel of it, I need it too, I have no idea where I am or where we’re going.

  I’m a city girl – bush land isn’t exactly my comfort zone.

  “I found this place by accident,” he tells me. “The minute I got out, I got on my bike and just drove.”

  We’re walking now, strolling along hand in hand as he talks.

  “I’ve never felt so free, Dylan, I just drove until I got to a dead end.”

  He pulls me out of the bush and into a clearing and I gasp.

  It’s beautiful.

  We’re at the edge of a huge riverbed.

  There’s a waterfall pounding over the drop further upstream and into the huge swimming hole in front of us.

  The cliff face is covered in greenery and wildflowers and I’ve seriously never seen anything so pure or untouched in my whole life.

  “Wow,” I breathe.

  “Can you imagine coming from something like a cage, to this?”

  I shake my head.

  “I needed it, even I didn’t know how much, Dylan. I was going mad in there. It wasn’t until I got out that I realised I hadn’t really breathed for three years.”

  He tugs me along until we reach a couple of huge rocks. He sits down on one and pats the spot next to him, indicating that I should sit too.

  And like the total sucker I am, I do.

  “So you came straight here?” I ask.

  It’s not like I probably deserved it, but I’d thought he would have come looking for me. The man I fell in love with would have always looked for me first. No matter what.

  He must hear the question I’m not saying because he answers it.

  “I went to our house first,” he replies tightly. “You weren’t there.”

  I don’t answer – there’s nothing I can say, and not a day goes by that I don’t wish I didn’t sell the home we built together, but it just had to be done.

  Good choices aren’t always easy ones.

  “So then I just drove. I tried to leave all my problems in my rear-view mirror, but it didn’t work.”

  “It didn’t?”

  He shakes his head. “Even something this incredible doesn’t compare to what I lost when you walked out of my life.”

  I shiver at the honesty in his words.

  He’s vulnerable Andy again – and I’m totally and utterly defenceless.

  He takes my hand in his and once more, I let him.

  He rubs his thumb over the shiny gold polish on my long nails before bringing the back of my hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

  “Fuck, I missed you, Dylan, every god damn second of every single day.”

  I missed you too. I want to reply, but I can’t. I have to protect myself.

  “You got out early,” I say instead.

  “Good behaviour.” He nods.

  “You?” I tease. “I didn’t know you knew the meaning of it.”

  “I would have done anything to get out of there early, princess – even behave myself.”

  I smile sadly at him. I feel sorry for him, even though I know I shouldn’t. I never have been able to handle seeing him sad.

  “Three years of my life, princess… it’s just gone.”

  Three years of my life is gone too – not in the same way – I know he’s had a hard time, but I have too. He knows nothing of the torture I’ve lived through while he was away.

  I shrug. “What did you expect would happen when you broke the law?”

  He doesn’t answer me, we just sit in silence for a long, long moment.

  I’m not sure when it happened, but by the time he speaks again I realise my eyes are closed and my head is resting on his shoulder.

  “I didn’t do it,” he whispers to me.

  My heart speeds up to a thunderous pace in my chest as I lift my head.

  “You didn’t do what?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he’s talking about.

  “I didn’t steal that bike, Dylan.” His gorgeous brown eyes are overflowing with sincerity.

  It’s so intense I have to look away to catch my breath.

  “They caught you driving it,” I reply quickly.

  The facts were all there. I may not have visited him or sat in the court room myself, but I saw every single bit of the case against him.

  “Doesn’t mean I stole it.” He shrugs.

  I don’t reply. I can’t; my head is swirling so fast I feel like I could pass out.

  I don’t know what to do with this information.

  The old me would have believed him in a heartbeat.

  He wasn’t kidding when he swore he’d never lied to me. Other than this whole saga, I’ve never heard a single word of a lie come from his lips.

  But he can’t be telling the truth now. He just can’t.

  He went to prison over this.

  I left him over this.

  “I didn’t do any of it. I didn’t operate that business. I didn’t steal any of those vehicles.”

  My husband was sentenced to four and half years for grand theft auto. They accused him of running an illegal operation – stealing cars and bikes and flipping them for quick sale.

  It could have been a lot more time, but he got lucky – there wasn’t a lot in the way of solid evidence to tie him to the entire operation, so instead they stung him hard with what they could – the stolen bike he was caught on.

  “You worked on all of those cars, Andy. Every single one they seized had your prints on it.”

  He drops his head. “I know I did. And I knew there was something dodgy going down, but the money was good, too good for a guy working based on commission, so I didn’t ask any questions and I paid the price for it.”

  We paid the price for it, I think to myself, but I don’t say it aloud.

  “You never told me about any of this, why?”

  He shrugs. “What’s to tell? A lot of cars came through the garage, princess, it just so happened that about half of them came from one man.”

  “Andy.” I look at him sceptically. “They never found a man.”

  I read his statement. Someone called ‘Terry’ was who Andy blamed. He knew nothing more about the man and the police never found any trace of someone by that name.

  “I’m not lying to you, Dylan. Why the fuck would I? I did the time. It’s done. I can’t get it back. Whether or not I’m guilty is pretty god damn irrelevant right now.”

  “It’s not to me,” I whisper.

  “You think I’m lying anyway,” he mutters as his brown eyes search mine.

  “I looked at the facts.”

  “Fuck the facts. You know me, princess, a man that kisses you like that isn’t lying to you – you know that.”

  “A man that kisses me like what?” I breathe – terrified about what I know is going to come next.

  “Like this,” he growls as he reaches for me and pulls my face to his.

  I don’t even fight him – instead I welcome it.

  I allow myself to be the old Dylan for yet another second.

  I allow myself to believe that my husband didn’t do the very thing that caused us to fall apart.

  I allow myself to give in to him the way I’ve wanted to since the first moment I laid eyes on him again.

  He runs his tongue along my bottom lip and I open my mouth for him.

  His tongue finds mine, seeking entry gently, and I moan.

  My noises only spur him on further and before I even know what’s happening, I’m being lifted into his lap, straddling him in a position that’s all too familiar.

  My hands are in his hair and his are on my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh, but I still don’t feel close enough.

  It’s electric, this moment. I can almost feel the crackle in the air between us.

&n
bsp; “Drew,” I moan as I nip at his bottom lip.

  “Jesus, Dylan.” He pants as his hand slides up my body to cup my face.

  We’re both breathing heavily, like we’ve been for a long run, our breaths mingling together as he places random kisses on my face.

  The corner of my mouth, my brow, my cheek, my forehead…

  He’s kissing me all over.

  I giggle as he kisses the skin below my ear.

  “Making up for lost time,” he growls as he kisses the same spot again.

  I sigh and let my eyelids flutter shut.

  I can’t live in this moment for long, I know that, but I’m not willing to give it up just yet – it’s too good.

  “You don’t believe me,” he whispers hoarsely against my ear.

  “I don’t know what I believe anymore,” I whisper back with total honesty, the words surprising even myself.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Andy

  I don’t want to get cocky, but it feels like I’ve got my wife back.

  I know there’s still a long road ahead, but today has been one hell of a baby step for both of us.

  She didn’t run when I kissed her – not that she would have got far out here in the countryside, not in those tight-as-fuck pants anyway – but the point is, she didn’t even try to run.

  She wanted to be here as much as I did, and that’s saying something.

  I’ve fantasised about this moment for a long time. I didn’t think I’d actually get it.

  I’m free – driving my bike with the woman of my dreams wrapped around me like a vice and I’ve never been a happier man.

  We’re driving aimlessly, both of us just enjoying the ride, and wherever it is we’re headed, I know this is the direction I want to take for the rest of my life.

  I’ll go anywhere as long as it’s with her.

  Things with Dylan were never going to be a sprint – even calling it a marathon doesn’t seem enough of an effort – no offence to those crazy bastards who run those things – but I know this is going to take a lot more out of me than any run ever could.

  I know it’s going to take me a long time to fix what I broke between us.

  Even though I didn’t do what I was accused of, I left myself wide open to taking the blame.

  I might not have been guilty, but it was still my fault that I had to leave her.

  I was young and naive and it’s not a mistake I’ll be making again.

  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt me that she never came to me, never asked for my side of the story – because it did. It crushed me.

  I saw the look in her eyes as she watched me being put in the back of that cop car.

  She went from looking like the happiest I’d ever seen her, to looking like she had died inside.

  I’ll never forget that look.

  It was the sight of me breaking the person I loved most in the world. The only person I’ve ever loved more than myself.

  I feel her tug on the sleeve of my jacket and I glance back at her over my shoulder as I slow to a stop at an intersection.

  We’ve ended up two towns over in some little hick village I’ve never been to.

  “You okay, princess?”

  I’m expecting her to ask me to take her home, I’ve been waiting for it all day, but she doesn’t.

  “I’m hungry,” she says instead.

  I chuckle. “Of course you are.”

  She smacks my arm teasingly. “Just feed me already.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  ***

  “So, were you in some kinda gang?” She tips her head to the side as she studies me carefully.

  She’s onto her fourth or so beer and she’s close to being pissed already.

  Dylan might be able to eat me under the table, but she’s a complete lightweight on the drink.

  I chuckle. “No. I wasn’t in a fucking gang.”

  “Did you join a fight club?”

  “And mess up this pretty face?” I smirk at her. “What do you think?”

  She bites down on her lip as her green eyes linger on my face. “Such a pretty face.” She sighs dreamily.

  I chuckle again. She’s definitely drunk.

  “I got out early on good behaviour, princess, remember? That doesn’t work if you’re joining gangs and beating the crap out of some piece-of-shit jail trash.”

  She almost looks a little bit disappointed.

  “Were you anyone’s bitch?” She giggles.

  “Do I look like the kinda guy who’s gonna be someone’s bitch?”

  Her eyes widen. “Oh shit, did you make someone your bitch?”

  I laugh long and loud.

  “No, Dylan, don’t worry, Jesus, I kept my dick to myself.” She blushes, and I wink at her. “I was saving it for you.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “I did make a couple of mates in there, though.”

  “Oh yeah? I bet they’re really upstanding citizens,” she drawls as she brings her beer bottle up to her lips and takes a long drink.

  Fuck she looks too good doing that.

  We’re going to have to get the hell out of this shitty little pub soon, before I end up giving the other patrons a show they’re not likely to forget.

  She raises her brows at me and I realise she’s waiting for me to speak.

  “Ah…” I clear my throat. “Yeah, they’re good dudes.”

  “Good dudes that are behind bars for what exactly?”

  “Robbo’s locked up for producing fake documents – passports and stuff, and Glow, he has a fetish for lighting shit on fire. He got caught burning down an old abandoned church or some shit.”

  “Charming.”

  “They actually kinda were. There’s some real bad dudes in there, princess. It was no maximum security, but some of those hopped-up little punks would have stabbed their grandma for five bucks. So, all things considered, these two were pretty good guys.”

  She twirls a strand of red hair around her finger as she watches me talk. “They still in there?”

  “The hopped-up punks?” I question.

  “Your boys,” she elaborates with a hint of a slur in her voice.

  “Glow got out six months before me and Robbo will be out early next year if he can keep his nose clean.”

  “Drugs?” she asks with a solemn nod.

  I chuckle. “There’s plenty in there, but nah, it’s just an expression, princess – he just needs to stay out of trouble.”

  “Got it.” She takes the final pull of her beer and looks at me with a sleepy smile.

  “We better get the hell outta here before you fall asleep.”

  She doesn’t reply as I stand up and throw some money on the table to cover the bill. I take her hand and tow her along beside me.

  “And before you ask, I didn’t do drugs in there.”

  “Were they not good drugs?” she asks as she snuggles into my side.

  I throw my arm around her and help her walk straight.

  I’m doing my best not to laugh at her, I really am, but there’s nothing much funnier than Dylan when she’s crossed the line from drunk to too drunk. She can go from full noise to sleepy puppy in about thirty seconds flat.

  “No, baby, they were shit drugs.”

  I manage to get the helmet on her head and her sexy ass onto the bike, but I’m not entirely convinced she’s going to be able to stay awake to hold on.

  She’s wearing a scarf so I take it off from around her neck as she sits there looking at me with a dopey smile on her face.

  I get on and with more effort than I was fucking prepared for, I get the scarf wrapped around both of us and tie it up at the front so she’s attached to me.

  Last thing I need is her falling off. That’s not going to win me any points.

  “I gotta get that car finished,” I mutter to myself and she wraps her arms around my waist.

  “What are you waiting for, fire her up,” Dylan slurs, waving one hand around in some obscene gesture.


  I start my baby up with a chuckle and head for home.

  I don’t know how long Dylan lasts before she nods off, but when I park the bike up outside her apartment, she’s asleep.

  ***

  I creep out of the bedroom and pull the door shut behind me.

  The woman still sleeps like the dead.

  I carried her up here, got her into bed, stripped her pants off – and she only woke once. Even then, all she did was smile up at me and mutter the word, ‘Drew’.

  Fucking heartbreaker.

  I’d give anything to be Drew for her again. I’m not all about emotions and feelings or any of that shit, but I’d be lying if I said that hearing my name from her lips doesn’t stir something up inside me.

  I drop down onto the couch and shiver.

  It’s still fucking freezing in this place and I’m going to have to do something about it soon.

  I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts, hitting call when I get to Jeff’s name.

  “Wood,” he answers after a few rings.

  “What’s going on? Everything all good at work?”

  “It’s good. Just left the garage. How’s the wife? Still hate your guts?”

  It’s an interesting question, and one I’m not really sure how to answer. I know she doesn’t exactly like me yet, but she didn’t seem to hate me quite so much today either.

  “A bit less... I think.”

  “You think she’s warming up to you?”

  I chuckle. “Ironic choice of words… She cut off the heating in here. I’m freezing my ass off.”

  “Why’d she do that for?”

  “I refused to wear clothes.”

  He chuckles down the line. “That’s gold. I really do love that woman. I hope you don’t fuck this up. I’d like having her around again.”

  “Yeah well I’d hate to let you down,” I drawl sarcastically.

  “You getting anywhere with her?”

  “I kissed her. She didn’t bail.”

  “Solid.”

  “We took my bike for a ride.”

  He chuckles. “You softened her up with the Harley, that’s sly, man, I like it.”

  “We had dinner in some dive pub, it was… like old times.”