Expired Regrets
by Megan C. Smith
2nd Edition
Blue Tulip Publishing
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
Expired Regrets
Copyright © 2015 Megan C. Smith
ISBN: 978-1-942246-32-9
Cover art designed by P.S. Cover Design
To my husband and family—
Thank you so much for supporting me as I chased my dream.
To my partner in crime—
I am so glad we took this journey together! Love You!
Separated at birth — for sure!
Rachel—
Your knowledge and guidance has been invaluable,
thank you doesn’t begin to cover it!
PROLOGUE
Loud piercing sirens rang in my ears. I opened my eyes but couldn’t focus on anything. I could hear nothing but the sirens in the distance. Warm liquid rolled down my face.
I reached up to clear my vision. My fingers came into contact with whatever was oozing down my face, making me quickly wipe my eyes.
Bright red blood clung to my fingertips. My fingers were covered in my own blood. In a panic, I gasped for air, pulling on the seatbelt in an attempt to free myself. What happened? I took a deep breath before blinking my eyes several times in rapid succession, trying to reset time and bring back the faded memories. I closed my eyes to get my bearings.
Suddenly, it all came crashing back. Bright headlights, blinding me as they careened around the corner. Screeching tires followed by the sounds of metal crunching and twisting in carnage as the two cars melded together as one. My truck flipping endlessly until sliding on the rooftop into a tree, finally halting its momentum.
The smell of burnt rubber, from the tires losing themselves to the asphalt, trying to avoid impact, assaulted my nose.
My body was numb to any feeling, as air became harder to pull into my lungs, making it difficult to gain control of my breathing. I could tell the sirens were getting closer, but not close enough, not fast enough. I prayed they would find me quickly, as I tried to remain focused on the sound. I dozed in and out of consciousness.
As I lay there trapped in the wreckage that was my truck, a woman’s fuzzy slippers came into view before she crouched down beside my window. Her eyes were filled with fear. She turned and yelled to someone farther away and then disappeared as she repeated the information. My eyes grew heavy again as I heard her screaming to the fire rescue who had just arrived. I could taste the copper tang of blood that marked my life and future slipping away.
My life flashed before my eyes, forcing me to see all of the choices I regretted. I should have listened to Bryant, instead of running. But now, the time to fix them had passed me by. Lying here imprisoned inside my truck dying, I had so many regrets, so many things I wished I could go back and redo. Regrets that I would have fixed had I known tomorrow would never arrive. Now they were all simply my expired regrets.
Feeling the sensation of floating, I forced my eyes open and caught a glimpse of an angel. The chocolate brown eyes of an angel were looking back into my own, and I felt at peace. This was it. Heaven.
CHAPTER ONE
Four Years Prior
Growing up in the sunshine state, home of amusement parks, life was simple enough. I wasn’t the most popular girl in school. I mostly stuck with my best friend, Leslie, but I was considered part of the in crowd. Most days I spent just trying to keep to myself, a closet nerd. Anything below an A was unacceptable in my book. I’d faced more than my fair share of adversity when the high school football star had taken advantage of me, but I’d survived.
After school, I worked at the local arcade to help pay for the two priorities in my life: my truck and my horse. It was a decent job where I made minimum wage goofing off. My friends typically hung out there after school, so it was a nice combination of work and play to pass the time.
In my free time, I could be found at my second home, the barn. I competitively rode in horse shows every chance I got, jumping three-foot fences as fast as I could to bring home the blue ribbon. My life revolved around working with my horse to be the best we could be at the next horse show. I would’ve slept there if my mom hadn’t called me home every evening.
Tonight was like every other for me. I’d gotten to the stables right after work so I could exercise my horse, CZ, before the sun set. As I curried his dapple-gray coat, I vented to him about my day’s frustrations as a high school student. He would occasionally tilt his head, giving a snort, as if he was in total agreement with my complaint. I snatched up a carrot to give to him, and he nickered in appreciation. I walked to the tack room to go grab my gear so that I could get to the arena while there was still daylight.
We had assigned shelves for our saddles, and for some insane reason, the stable manager, Steve, found some sick pleasure in placing my slim English saddle on the highest slot, meaning my petite five-foot-two frame had to struggle daily to retrieve it without it toppling on to my head. Today, apparently, wasn’t my day, though, because as I got the saddle to the edge with my fingertips, while standing on tiptoe, I lost my balance. I crashed to the floor with my saddle following behind, hurtling toward me like a missile. Inches from impact, it was caught, causing me to blink as it hung above my face.
I sat up to start getting back to my feet, coming eye to eye with the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen towering over me. He was a few years older than I, adding to my instant attraction and intrigue. Olive complexion, a sexy crooked grin, and short, straight dark brown hair made my mouth water with appreciation. Sitting there staring into the depths of his chocolate-brown eyes, I realized they were filled with concern. I came back from my daydream, as he gave me a gentle shake, feeling the scorching heat of his hands where they touched my shoulders.
“Are… you… okay?” he asked overly slow, increasing the intensity of each word, as if he was repeating himself for the umpteenth time.
I flushed red, giving a slight nod with a grunt. Seriously? A grunt? Oh good Lord, there went my shot with him! I got back to my feet, brushing off his help to retain any self-preservation and pride I may have had left after that disaster. “Thanks for the save,” I grumbled at him. As I went to walk back to CZ, his voice broke through my mental berating
“Ahem.” I glanced in his direction to see a smirk on his face. He had an air of cockiness about him. “Your saddle,” he teasingly reminded me.
I hate you. I snatched it from his hands and pivoted on my foot as quickly and gracefully as I could. The asinine, gorgeous, egotistical guy of my dreams mocked me as I walked out of the tack room. While he followed behind me, I heard him chuckle just before he turned to head toward a nearby pasture.
I stopped to rest and take a drink of water while working CZ in the arena. Even with the Florida sun beating down on me, I could still feel the burning sensation the new guy’s hands had left behind on my skin. I hadn’t seen him around before, which, considering I practically lived here, was saying something. Looking off toward the pasture he had gone to, I saw him walking back leading a chestnut quarter horse that was also a new addition to the barn. I stared at him from afar as he reached up, scratched the neck of the horse, and gave it a quick pat on its shoulder. As if he could feel my gaze searing into him, he looked my directio
n, and I quickly averted my eyes, nudging CZ on to continue my ride.
Coming back around, I spotted Leslie. She was my outspoken, spunky best friend, heading toward the arena. She was atop her horse, Beau, with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Have you seen the new stud? And no, I’m not talking about a horse.” Leslie laughed at her own joke.
How could I miss him? Back off, he’s mine. I gave a quick nod before giving her the rundown of our memorable introduction. Great friend that Leslie is, she damn-near fell off Beau in a fit of laughter. I went back to my ride, pouring every thought and feeling I had into it trying with all my might to forget his intense eyes and scorching touch.
Done riding, I took CZ back so that I could get home before the sunset and Mom began her relentless calls I untacked him without paying much attention to my surroundings; after all, I had been doing this every day since I’d been strong enough to lug my own saddle around on my hip. As I entered the tack room, I could instantly feel his presence, before I’d even seen him. After doing a quick sweep of the space, I saw the new guy hanging his western bridle on a hook. My eyes drifted down his lean body, stopping on his perfect backside that filled his denim jeans nicely. I smiled at him and tossed my saddle to the top shelf, trying with all my might to make it look like a walk in the park. He returned my look with his heart-stopping crooked smile. He sauntered my way, his chocolate eyes undressing me, making me feel stark naked as he gave my body a onceover from head to toe.
I shivered as the goose bumps came to the top of my skin. I could feel a droplet of sweat drip down my spine as I mustered the strength to speak to him. “Hey, you’re new around here. I’m Rose Barnes — well, Rosalind. My mom had a thing for regency romance novels, but everyone calls me Rose. So Rose,” I rambled on. Smooth, Rose — real smooth. Could you make a bigger fool of yourself?
With a chuckle, he leaned toward me, coming within inches of my face with his beautiful lips pursed.
I licked mine in anticipation of a kiss, as the air heated and electrified with the tension I was feeling.
“Hi, Rose. I’m Bryant, and you are blocking the door.”
Red-hot rage flared up inside me as I tried my hardest to control the thoughts flowing through my mind. Pompous ass! I shoved him out of my space and slung the door open to walk out. With each step away, all I could hear was the beautiful, but insulting, sound of him laughing at me for the second time in one day.
I turned CZ out to his pasture for night then packed up my stuff to head home. As I walked past the cracked tack room door, I could hear two voices talking and giggling inside. I paused a moment to listen, recognizing the one feminine voice right away. Leslie. I peeked inside to see Bryant leaning against a shelf with his hands in his tight denim pockets, staring at a blushing Leslie as she twirled her hair in her fingers and batted her eyelashes. Leslie was talking to Bryant… well, heavily flirting with him was more like it. Figures, Leslie got the attention of any guy she wanted with her long legs, perfect body, and strawberry-blond beach curls. Together they created an irresistible combination that captivated any guy’s attention, making him turn to putty in her hands. Without a doubt in my mind, I knew this would end with the sharing of her cherry-flavored lip-gloss and phone numbers. No sense torturing myself with the nauseating details by watching it all unfold. I quickly scooped up my truck keys and headed for the parking lot.
I was almost to my truck, when Leslie jogged to catch up to me, her curls bouncing and a ridiculous bubbly smile plastered on her face. The whole sight made me sick to my stomach with jealousy.
“So! The new guy…” she attempted to tell me.
“Bryant. I know. I ran into him in the tack room again,” I quickly snapped at her. My heart physically hurt from the betrayal of my best friend. Leslie knew me well enough to know I was interested. I couldn’t stand to listen to her rave about another guy that she’d caught and then cast off after she was done having fun. I just had to get away from Leslie, right then and there, before I said something I regretted that destroyed our friendship. I hopped in my truck, tossed it in drive, and drove off, leaving nothing but kicked-up dust clouding the sight of Leslie’s flabbergasted expression in my rearview mirror. I was tired of being picked second to her, and my feelings for Bryant were not a simple crush. Seeing him made my blood heat with desire and my heart flood with emotions I didn’t quite understand nor have a name for.
CHAPTER TWO
The next day at school, I was heading to my usual table during lunch and overheard Leslie raving on and on about how funny, sexy, and charming Bryant was. Mr. Perfect. His smile would light up a room, and his touch made her skin sizzle. Feeling the green monster rear its ugly head, I abruptly made a one-eighty and baled as I heard our girlfriends jump in and crush over Bryant. I ended up eating in my truck that day, cutting Leslie out all together for some peace of mind and heart.
Before Bryant, Leslie and I use to eat lunch together every day, share our fries, and chat about the day’s events. We would catch up on school gossip and plan upcoming horse shows. Post-Bryant, it took every ounce of willpower to not vomit up my lunch and rip out my heart as I heard her talk about how amazing he was to all who would listen.
The next week passed quickly, and I put on a brave face and made every effort to avoid Leslie and Bryant. School was the only time I would see just Leslie, since Bryant was in his last year at the local college, yet even there I avoided her like the plague.
At the stables, she seemed glued to him, like a Siamese twin. She was so attached I couldn’t even tell where he ended and she began. As much as I missed my best friend, seeing them together was like a knife to the gut, which continued to twist with each giggle or flirting touch Leslie lavished on Bryant. By the second week’s end, I was eating lunch in my truck, because even my friends seemed to be in awe of him from the stories they had heard from Leslie. I started going to the barn when I knew she wouldn’t be there. I had officially been reduced down to one single friend, CZ.
My body, on the other hand, seemed to crave Bryant’s attention. I often found myself subconsciously seeking him out when Leslie wasn’t there. If he was in the arena working his horse, I tacked faster to get there before he was done with his workout. Those moments in the arena when I had his undivided attention on me were pure bliss. While he continued to pick on me much like an older sibling would to a younger, it seemed I was a masochist and enjoyed the torture. I would take any attention from him I could get, desperate to be closer to him.
One afternoon Bryant came up riding beside me with a devilish grin on his face as I was cooling CZ off. I was too exhausted to catch the red flag waving in my mind as he approached me. In a matter of seconds, he grabbed my belt loop and pulled harshly, yanking me out of the saddle, flat on my ass on the ground. Laughing hysterically at me sprawled out covered in dirt, he winked at me before giving his horse a nudge to pick up the pace, hollering back, “Saddle check!”
RED!
I saw fire-engine red. Paybacks are hell, Bryant. You just remember that.
Back at the wash racks, I was hosing off CZ when Bryant walked by, providing me with my golden opportunity to exact revenge. I directed the hose nozzle his way and drenched him. “Oops!” I flashed him a mega-watt smile and winked.
His eyes sparked alive as he walked away dripping from head to toe with his shirt and jeans clinging to his body. I heard him mutter under his breath about karma being a bitch, making me seriously contemplate being sick for a few days — or a year.
The next afternoon I approached the entryway cautiously to find Bryant waiting near the tack room, kicked back with his feet propped up on a trunk, leaning on the rear legs of the chair. He had a piece of straw in his mouth, looking way too smug for my comfort. It set my nerves on edge.
Oh, shit this does not look good. I pulled in a quick breath, trying to gather my courage. “Could you look any more like a redneck hillbilly? I mean, seriously, Bryant, I feel like I’m living in a western movie. All you need is a cowboy hat.�
� I straightened my back, trying to project a false sense of self-assurance as I walked through the tack room door. I saw my saddle missing from its designated space, making my stomach knot as the realization the war we’d begun yesterday was still ensuing. I scanned the lower racks, hoping Steve had finally took pity on me, giving me a lower spot I could reach, but no such luck. I stood there stunned for a minute, when I heard the chair drop back down to all four and Bryant’s boots hitting concrete as he strutted into the tack room ever so slowly.
“Bryant! Where is my gear?” I growled.
“Somewhere your cute little self will never reach, so you might want to ask me very nicely. Beg and plead, even, and maybe I’ll help you reach it. For a small fee, of course.”
You know, I never quite understood the expression murderous rage until Bryant came along; now it was crystal-clear to me. “Bryant,” I began with resignation. No! I’d be damned if I asked for his help. I looked around again, spotting my saddle tucked behind his stuff on the top rack, so I figured out a plan of how to get it down.
I yanked his huge clunky western saddle down first, stepping aside as it barreled to the ground, hitting the concrete with a loud thud. Bryant’s jaw dropped, and I smirked. That’ll show you. Now to get mine… I still needed a few extra inches of height, since he had pushed it so far back. Got it! Stepping up onto his saddle, I stretched out to reach my own. With a quick movement from behind, I felt Bryant come up close. I froze mid-reach as he enveloped my body, pinning my backside to him, pushing his saddle away with his foot.
“Well, I didn’t realize you’d be so… resourceful,” he whispered into my ear, sending my heart rate into overdrive and tingles down my spine as his breath caressed my neck. His breath hot on my neck, I could feel the heat and moisture as he chuckled. Bryant wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me up a bit higher, so that reaching my saddle was easier, keeping me tight up against him.
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