Take a Chance on Me (Baymoor Book 3)

by D. A. Young

  Annabelle slid his beanie off to run her nails over his smooth bald head, licking the corner of his lips and nuzzling his beard with her nose before he captured her lips again. Graham’s hands unbuttoned her coat so that he could cup her breasts and tease Annabelle’s turgid nipples. Her body was aching for release and if Graham suggested fucking her on the hood of her employer’s truck, Annabelle would get naked and spread eagle for his affection.

  “Baby, I feel the exact same way. You and Rory are everything to me,” Annabelle sighed as he caressed her swollen peaks and she thrust herself deeper into his palms.

  Reluctantly, they released each other at the crunching sound of incoming footsteps on the trail. They nodded a greeting at the two young men who ran by on the jogging trail and waved at them.

  “I don’t want you talking to her again, Doc.”

  Annabelle whipped her head back to him. “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t stutter, but I don’t mind repeating myself to make sure we’re on the same page of the same book.” Graham was unrepentant in the face of Annabelle’s escalating irritation and the fact that she looked like she wanted to body slam his ass. “I don’t want you talking to Ingrid or involving yourself in anything that concerns her. She’s my problem, not yours.”

  “I see; because you’re the only one in this relationship who decides what’s best for both of us, correct?” Annabelle, bristling at his high-handedness, closed her legs, forcing him to back up as she squeezed him out.

  “No, it’s because you’re naïve, and deceiving people is a skill Ingrid’s honed to perfection. I grew up with that woman and people don’t change, Doc,” Graham replied harshly. “You didn’t notice her jonesing?”

  “No, I guess I was too busy being naïve, deaf, and dumb to notice,” Annabelle fumed, stung by his comments. “Maybe if I was a super robo-fucking-cop with intel experience like the almighty Graham Carlton then I would have picked up on it!” she snarked, crossing her arms defensively. “Of course, I noticed! She’s probably going to be like that for the rest of her life, Graham!”

  “Exactly,” Graham said pointedly. “I don’t want Ingrid in our lives or to be affiliated with her in any way. I especially don’t want her around babygirl. This is non-negotiable for me.”

  Annabelle held a hand up. “Would you just stop it? I understand where you’re coming from and the logic behind your reasoning, but I’m done letting people tell me what to do, Graham Carlton! I know what you, Eliza, and Georgie have been through, baby. I also know I will not allow anyone to dictate my speech or movements ever again. If I choose to speak to whomever, then I will do so. Are we clear on that?”

  She was infuriating him to no end, and it was making him crazy. He needed an outlet for his anger. Yes, he respected her standing her ground but they were talking about Ingrid. He would not unbend when it came to her. “Yeah, Doc. We’re real fucking clear on where we stand on this. Let’s go get you fed.”

  From behind a row of oakleaf hydrangea bushes, Ingrid watched them walk away, feeling a spark of hope.

  ***

  N-now th-that that don't kill me

  Can only make me stronger

  I need you to hurry up now

  'Cause I can't wait much longer

  I know I got to be right now

  'Cause I can't get much wronger

  Thump! Thump! Thump!

  “How much longer, Uncle Graham? You said we’d play chess before I went home, and Mom and Dad are almost ready to go,” Camille reminded him from where she was sitting cross-legged against the mirrored wall in front of Graham. Kanye’s West’s PG version of “Stronger” pulsated through the ceiling speakers while Graham worked out. She watched as her uncle pummeled the speedball in rapid succession before switching to the punching bag with sharp jabs then back to the speedball again.

  Let's get lost tonight

  You could be my black Kate Moss tonight

  Play secretary, I'm the boss tonight

  This shit wasn’t working, Graham thought with frustration as he went harder on the speedball. Ever since he’d first put gloves on, Graham had loved boxing. It was the perfect remedy to channel all of his pent-up emotions and aggressions and had always worked. Until now.

  “Are you and Ms. Annabelle fighting?”

  Yes.

  “Nah. What makes you say that, Big C?” Graham stopped boxing long enough to give her a slick look. “Ayyyee, you ain’t fooling anybody. I said chess after you sparred. On your feet.”

  Camille gave one of her put-upon, grown-up sighs and pushed herself up. “Fine; if you insist. The reason I asked was that the two of you have barely said anything to each other for the last two days except when you’re Skyping with Rory. Usually, the two of you are making goo-goo eyes like everyone else in this family. It was so obvious, and I think you should try to make up. You’re not getting any younger, you know. Last year, I heard Grandma, Mom, and Aunt Georgie say if you hadn’t been too busy indulging in quantity over quality, you’d be settled down by now.”

  Graham dropped his fists and held out his gloves for her to unlace. When Camille was done, she helped him to pull them off, and then Graham helped her put on the gloves he’d bought her. “I noticed they said that to you but couldn’t come say it to your favorite uncle’s face, could they?”

  Camille side-eyed him. “’Cause you were going to do what?”

  “Not a darned thing, lil mama,” Graham laughed as he finished lacing her gloves up. “Are you excited about the wedding? In four days, everything will be official, and your by-the-book brain can finally be at ease.”

  He grabbed the hook and jab pads, slid them on, and clapped them together. “Now, let’s get it, Big C!”

  Annabelle watched from the doorway as Graham coached Camille on her technique. He was patient but a firm instructor, and Camille was pretty good, listening to what her uncle said and moving her feet accordingly. She just knew that when the time came, he’d have Rory in gloves too. Hopefully, they’d be speaking to each other by then. Her eyes followed the sinewy lines of his sexy body covered in sweat. His white tank top was soaked through, proof of the effort that he’d exerted.

  Annabelle knew what he was doing and loved him even more for it. They needed a breather, and he was true to his word about not going anywhere, but Annabelle missed him severely. Yes, they still ate together and hung out with their friends, but she missed the closeness of being surrounded by him and snuggling into his body, listening to his heartbeat. The only time things were normal was when they Skyped with Rory and Edith. Tonight, Annabelle could see that Rory was growing restless and missed the both of them. It was the reason she now sought him out.

  “You need something, Doc?” He didn’t look away from Camille as he addressed Annabelle.

  “Umm, when you have a minute, I wanted to discuss something with you,” Annabelle answered as she watched his arm muscles coil then retract as he moved the pads.

  “He’s got a minute right now.” Camille thrust her hands at her uncle with raised eyebrows that said he better make shit right.

  “And here I was, thinking I’m your fave,” Graham muttered good-naturedly as he leaned down.

  “You are my fave; that’s why I’m trying to get you down the aisle, Uncle Graham,” Camille explained patiently, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Later!”

  To Annabelle, she grinned impishly, “Good night, Ms. Annabelle.”

  “Good night, baby,” she said and hugged Camille, watching as the little girl skipped down the long hallway. Annabelle just knew that Rory would adore her.

  “What’d you want to talk about?”

  Annabelle jumped at the deep husky voice in her ear that woke her body from its slumber. She turned to find Graham playing space invader as his eyes bore into hers. He used a white towel to wipe his face, and Annabelle gulped as the scent of his sweat and cologne mingled together, making her mouth water while her heart beat erratically at his nearness. She felt like a vampire, hungry for a tas
te of him.

  “Doc?”

  “I wanted to discuss Rory!” Annabelle blurted out and saw the flicker of disappointment in his before it dissolved. “She misses us, and I want to go see her.”

  Graham was disappointed that she didn’t want to discuss them, but her concern had merit and had been on his mind as well as their situation. “I was thinking about that as well. Why don’t we take off after the wedding?”

  Annabelle’s smile was bright enough to rival the sun. “I’d love to. I miss them and there’s been no sign of Davis. I’ve reactivated and opened social media accounts and have been posting like crazy but there have been no attempts at contact.”

  Graham didn’t bother admitting he was aware of that fact because he was tracking all her accounts for Fowler as well. No sense in adding fuel to the fire. As soon as he was six feet under, then Graham would stop tracking.

  “I understand your frustration but there’s nothing. Too much of nothing.”

  Everyone was coming up empty-handed. Graham, Darby’s men as well as Alexei’s. They even had bounty hunters looking but there was no bounty to be found.

  Annabelle looked so defeated that Graham wanted to pull her into his arms. But he couldn’t because as always, his body was primed and ready to fuck her. If she even touched him, it was on. Against the gym door, the mirror, Annabelle on all fours on the mat, and then bent over his workout bench.

  “Graham.”

  His name was a huskily whispered plea, informing him that Annabelle wanted him to follow through on the sinful thoughts reflected in his eyes. It almost broke him. Graham knew how ready she’d be for him. He knew that he wouldn’t even have to bother with foreplay, she was that aroused. Yeah, right. Like he wasn’t going to put his pussy on his tongue as soon as Annabelle came to her senses.

  “Annabelle, you ready?” Georgie called from down the hallway. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow!”

  “Be right there!”

  “What’s going on tomorrow?”

  “Umm, after church I’m helping the Spring Chickens with their fundraising luncheon.” Pathetic. That was the only word to describe the way she’d practically begged Graham to give in to their desire. “I should go. Goodnight, Mr. Carlton.”

  Graham’s hooded eyes dropped to her pouty lips and lingered before he stepped back.

  “Sleep tight, Doc.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The large white tent behind the town square pavilion was packed as Annabelle made her way through to find Mrs. Laurent. She found her at the back, lecturing her granddaughter Farah on the length of her skirt.

  “It’s not that short, Grand’Mere!” Farah sulked while discreetly tugging on her black miniskirt.

  “I beg to differ, dear.” Mrs. Laurent touched her granddaughter’s long platinum locs then tapped her darker roots. “If these weren’t an indication that you weren’t a real blonde, as soon as you try to bend over, the entire town will know. Go find some tights before your va-jay-jay turns into an igloo!”

  Farah stormed past Annabelle with barely a greeting. “Is this a bad time, Mrs. L?”

  “Annabelle, you made it!” she beamed as her eyes scanned Annabelle’s merlot, knee-length fitted sheath that she’d paired with black pumps. “You look stunning, my dear! Why don’t you go see Ida for your name tag then meet me at the tent entrance by the pavilion?”

  No sooner had she walked off that Annabelle was jerked to the side by Kenya and Chelsea, who spoke first. “Annabelle, I’m going to ask you this in the nicest way possible. Precisely what are you trying to accomplish by being here? That fine, bronzed-dipped God you have ain’t laying it down right?”

  “Please say it ain’t so, gurl,” Kenya pleaded desperately, clasping her hands together. “Rodney and I allow ourselves one fantasy. His is Olivia Newton-John. Don’t ask; it’s an Aussie thing. Although, in my opinion, he should have gone for Kylie Minogue …”

  “And who was yours, Kenny?” Chelsea asked innocently, which earned her a pinch on the arm from Kenya.

  Turning to Annabelle, Kenya winced as she explained, “To be fair, I said was, Annabelle.”

  “You fantasize about my man?! Biiitch!”

  “Don’t be mad at me for having good taste! Besides, it’s not like I’m the only one. Look around you! Why do you think everyone is so dressed up? Max and Wade are off the market! Who’s left?”

  Annabelle was confused as she surveyed the room of well-dressed women. “I thought this was a general auction fundraiser, and we were presenting the items?”

  “Oh, good, you’re still here!” Georgie exclaimed as she ran up to them with a wicker basket. “You left without your prize today, so we thought we’d come and bring it to you.”

  Eliza touched Annabelle’s sleek blowout. “I’m loving your outfit and this hairstyle!”

  Fern, who was hiding behind Eliza gave a timid wave. “Hey, Annabelle. Looking good.”

  “What’s going on? Somebody needs to explain this to me right now!” Annabelle demanded, pointing at the basket.

  Before they could react, Mrs. Laurent’s voice was booming into a microphone.

  “Welcome to Baymoor’s First Valentine’s Charity Picnic Auction! My goodness, this is quite the turnout and all for a great cause! All proceeds today will go to Baymoor Hospital’s Pediatric Wing, so the Spring Chickens would like to thank you in advance for your generosity!

  Gentlemen, I ask that you keep your hearts purer than your thoughts and think of the children when bidding and opening up your wallets! Are you ready to get started???”

  The resounding chorus of cheers and agreements was deafening and sent chills down Annabelle’s spine. She targeted Eliza, Georgie, and Fern in her sights, and the trio squirmed under her wrath. “You knew!”

  “You said they couldn’t pull a fast one on you,” Fern replied weakly. “And it is for a good cause…”

  “Do it for the kids,” Eliza added with a straight face, eyes full of amusement.

  Ida hurried up and grabbed Annabelle’s hand and then the basket from Georgie. She shoved it into Annabelle’s hands while pinning a badge on her chest. “Look alive, Annabelle! You’re up first!”

  “But—”

  It was the only thing she could get out before Ida dragged her toward the tent opening.

  “Our first basket is brought to you by a lovely young woman who’s been gone on a journey of self-discovery that’s taken her all over the world.” Mrs. Laurent lowered her voice to a whisper shrouded in mystery, “Some say she’s spent the last few years studying and perfecting the Kama Sutra with various masters, in turn, becoming one herself and passing on her extensive knowledge to eager and willing students.”

  “WHAT?!” Annabelle screeched as the other women around her drew in a scandalous breath. “Has she lost her fucking mind?”

  Ida shushed her. “Well, you really didn’t give us much to work with the other day, so we had to improvise with the info we did receive.”

  “By insinuating that I’m the whore of Babylon?!”

  Huffing with indignation, Ida retorted, “We did no such thing, Annabelle Gaines, and I resent the implication! You mentioned doing yoga in your spare time, so we just improvised and jazzed it up with a more difficult level to make you sound more interesting. You should be thanking us!”

  “The Kama Sutra is NOT yoga, Ida! It’s sex!” Annabelle wailed.

  Ida’s mouth hit the floor as she pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Oh, my stars…I just thought it sounded good because there are so many tricky positions to contort your body, but I wasn’t wearing my glasses while researching because of a persistent migraine.”

  “Folks, can you believe the enthusiastic response from our bidders? Gentlemen, put your hands together for the lovely Annabelle Gaines!”

  Annabelle slowly backed away, but Ida recovered from her shock quickly and shoved her through the tent’s entrance where she stood frozen as every eye in Town Square fell on her.

  Mrs. Laur
ent covered her microphone. “Now’s not the time to be shy, dear! This crowd is piping hot for you! We’re off to a great start!”

  It’s for the children, Annabelle thought as she slunk forward with the picnic basket. The single men of Baymoor, ranging in age from twenty-one to seventy and dressed in their Sunday finery all pressed closer to the pavilion, their faces masks of eager anticipation.

  “Now, who’d like to open the bidding up with twenty dollars?”

  “Forty!”

  “I have forty—”

  “Sixty!”

  Annabelle recognized Marcus Barns, a former classmate whom she’d known since preschool as the bidder and cringed. She wasn’t into shaming of any kind, especially body shaming, but not only did Marcus Barns look like Wile E. Coyote with bifocals, he was unfortunately built like him too.

  “Eighty-five!”

  The bidding passed $100.00, then $175.00 while Annabelle prayed for a black hole to swallow her. Now it was at $260.00. A movement toward the back of the crowd caught her attention and her heart leapt with joy. It was Graham coming to save her! Except he was just standing there watching the entire process with no apparent inclination of stepping in to rescue his distressed damsel.

  Was he really not going to help her?!

  Eyebrows narrowed and a look that would scald water, Annabelle hoped she was conveying the urgent message that he’d never gain access to her bed again if he did not step in and do his due diligence as her man. Three-forty and climbing and still, Graham did nothing. Suddenly Annabelle realized what he was doing. He wanted her to come to him and admit that she was willing to work with him regarding Ingrid. Annabelle glanced at Marcus, who was licking his lips like she was the Road Runner on a platter. It was down to him and three other men.

  Four-ten. Annabelle straightened up and played to the crowd with a charming smile and a few “Price Is Right” model poses. The hell she would give in to him.

  “Five hundred dollars! Do I have another offer? Going once? Going twice?”