by Sarah Curtis
Until Sadie
Happily Ever Alpha
Sarah Curtis
Until Sadie
Copyright © 2021 by Sarah Curtis
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published by Boom Factory Publishing, LLC.
Sarah Curtis CONTRIBUTOR to the Original Works was granted permission by Aurora Rose Reynolds, ORIGINAL AUTHOR, to use the copyrighted characters and/ or worlds created by Aurora Rose Reynolds in the Original Work; all copyright protection to the characters and/ or worlds of Aurora Rose Reynolds in the Original Works are and shall continue to be retained by Aurora Rose Reynolds. You can find all of Aurora Rose Reynolds Original Works on most major retailers. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, story lines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales or any events or occurrences are purely coincidental.
Cover design by r.b.a Design
Dedication
To Ken
My Happily Ever Alpha
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Other Books by Sarah Curtis
Where To Find Me
Prologue
Pitch black.
That was the state of Dean’s apartment as he stepped through the front door.
That should’ve been his first clue, but he was so fucking tired, it didn’t register that Sadie hadn’t left a light on for him.
He flipped the switch before tossing his keys on the entryway table. The clatter they made seemed especially loud.
That should’ve been his second clue. The place was eerily silent. The kind that only comes when no one was home. Sadie was supposed to be there. She’d said as much before leaving for work that morning. Being so late, she was more than likely sleeping after pulling a double shift that day. He’d give her that as an excuse—maybe she’d been so tired she crashed, forgetting to turn on the light.
He made his way to the kitchen, stripping off his leather jacket. He got a whiff of cigarette smoke and stale beer mixed with a hint of BO from too close of quarters.
He needed a fucking shower.
The faint glow from the streetlight softly illuminated the kitchen table as he hung his jacket on the back of a chair and navigated around it. More light filled the kitchen when he pulled open the refrigerator door, shining on the white-tiled countertop and drawing attention to the piece of paper sitting there.
It was lined, and its connecting holes were shredded with one corner torn off as though hastily ripped from a spiral notebook. Recognizing Sadie’s scrawl, he snatched it up.
Some of the dark purple ink was diluted and smeared, looking like a grief-stricken watercolor painting. A tingle at the back of his neck sent out a warning but he forced his eyes to the words on the page. Dread filled his stomach as he scanned the note, getting the gist of its contents while trying not to absorb the harsh words. That alone was a punch to the gut.
His girl had left him.
“Sadie!” His voice echoed into the responding silence.
Fisting the note, he wrinkled the evidence of her departure before chucking it onto the counter with so much force, it bounced off the backsplash and landed in the sink.
Heavy and quick, his booted steps pounded the linoleum as he left the kitchen to search out the letter’s validity. Her scent surrounded him as he walked through the apartment to the bedroom. Stopping in its threshold, he took a deep breath.
A single drawer was pulled out in the dresser—her drawer. Now empty.
“Fuck!”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone—his thumb on the screen to unlock it before it even cleared the denim. He brought it to his ear, listening to the many rings before her beautiful voice told him to leave a message.
His fist hit the wall, right below the spot where their cuckoo clock had hung, denting the plaster and making a small hole that caused a rain of drywall dust to fall to the floor.
His gut tightened as he stared at the empty space.
She’d taken the damn clock.
Checking the time on his phone, he sat on the edge of the bed to scroll through his apps. Finding the one he was looking for, he clicked on it.
The thirty seconds it took for the app to locate her felt like an eternity, but finally, the information loaded.
She was safe. At her apartment.
After stripping off his tee shirt, he leaned over to pull off his boots, knowing there was nothing he could do right then. He couldn’t go banging on her door at fucking midnight, waking up the neighbors. Though every instinct was telling him to do just that, he knew he had to wait until morning—but then there’d be no stopping him.
Standing, Dean shucked is jeans, then made his way to the bathroom. The countertop was bare. No makeup scattered about. No random hair ties. No fucking pink toothbrush in the holder next to his blue one. Though they didn’t live together, she stayed at his place more nights than not. There’d been traces of her everywhere.
Now there weren’t.
He started the shower, pointing the dial to more hot than cold. He had a chill that ran deep. But he doubted the hot water would help. Only Sadie could warm him.
Scrubbing the night’s activities from his skin, spice and musk filled the steamy air, masking Sadie’s scent.
He didn’t like that.
Wanted her smell back.
Noticing she hadn’t taken her shampoo, he grabbed it, squeezing a healthy glob into his palm. Her scent of roses mixed with his spice as he lathered it through his hair, and a vision of them entwined popped into his head. His dick hardened, but he wouldn’t take it in hand. Instead, he flipped the water to cold, gritting his teeth as the icy pelts hit his skin.
A small penance until he got Sadie back where she belonged.
Beside him.
Out of the shower, he grabbed his toothbrush and glared at the empty holder as he brushed his teeth.
The bed was cold and vast as he climbed in. He reached for her pillow, wrapping it in his arms and burying his face in it, breathing Sadie in. A poor substitute, but it would have to do.
But only for one night.
Chapter One
Three months prior, Friday, August 7th
Dean always felt a thrill when riding into a new town, and as he turned his bike off Pacific Coast Highway, this one was no exception. Heading inland with the salt and brine of the ocean air whipping through his hair and the sun warming his scalp, he slowed his Harley so he could take in the sights. Gone was the view of bikini-clad bodies, surfers, and families that crowded the beac
hes as he’d sped down California’s coast. In its stead were the rustic and weathered houses and shops of downtown Huntington Beach. He rode along quaint streets lined with old-fashioned light posts and sidewalks filled with scantily clad people, their flip-flops slapping the pavement as they passed stores and restaurants that catered to a beach community.
He reduced his speed to a crawl as he reached his destination and turned into Pierce’s Garage—a mechanic shop off Main Street. Parking his bike, he kicked down the stand and got off, taking his time to survey the place, noting it did good business. Cars lined the back and side walls and filled all the bays where mechanics busily worked. He didn’t see anyone idly standing around.
Classic rock played from the depths of one of the bays, the music occasionally drowned by the loud blast of impact guns, clanking tools, and revving engines. Sounds he was familiar with—the lullaby he’d fallen asleep to as a child.
“Sweet ride.”
Dean turned at the sound of the gruffly spoken compliment to find a guy—appearing just as rough as his voice with shaggy brown hair and a full beard—approaching, wiping his hands on a red rag smeared with grease stains.
“Thanks.” He took a step to the side so the guy had a better view.
As the man drew near, Dean noted he was a few inches shorter than himself. Not a surprise. Not many men topped his six-four frame.
“Classic with a custom package? That must have set you back a few bucks.”
Dean’s lips quirked. “Just a few.” He waited a beat, then asked, “You know where I can find Ray?”
“You’re looking at him.” The guy’s brow furrowed. “What can I do for you?”
Dean held out his hand. “Name’s Dean Keller. We have a mutual friend. Said the first thing I needed to do when I hit town was look you up.”
Ray tucked the rag into his back pocket before taking Dean’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “Yeah? And who might that friend be?”
“Cobi Mayson.”
“Mayson? Well shit. Why didn’t you start with that?” Ray’s lips split into a broad smile. “Cobi saved my skin more than once when we served together. How do you know him?”
“Our families are close. We played football in school, then we both joined the service together. Though we went our separate ways after boot camp.”
“Army?”
Dean shook his head, knowing he was being tested. “Marines.” He ran a hand through his brown hair that was about two months past due for a haircut. “Miss the three squares but can’t say I miss the buzz cuts.”
Ray laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. “Well, any friend of Cobi’s is a friend of mine. How’s he doing? I haven’t talked to him in… Hell, close to six years.”
“He’s good. Moved back home after getting out of the service. Met some chick. Got married.” Dean internally winced. Hadley would bust his nuts if she heard him call her a chick.
“No, shit? That’s crazy, man.” He ran a palm over his forehead, wiping droplets of sweat. “Let’s go to my office and out of the sun. You can catch me up.”
Dean’s gaze wandered as he followed Ray to the back of the shop, catching the eyes of a few workers. He gave them chin lifts as he passed. All but one returned the gesture—a burly dude covered in tats from the top of his bald head to the sleeves that wrapped his arms. Dean got a glare from him. He returned it with a megawatt smile. Kill ‘em with fucking kindness.
“Have a seat.” Ray motioned to a metal folding chair that was positioned in front of an industrial desk. He opened a mini fridge. “I got soda and water. What’s your pleasure?”
“Water would be great, thanks.” Dean took a seat, trying not to cringe as the cold metal seeped through the ass of his jeans. It might be hot as hell outside, but Ray’s office felt like the Arctic with the way he had the air-conditioning blasting.
Ray pulled out two bottled waters and handed one over before sitting behind the desk.
After a few more minutes of shooting the shit, Ray speared him with his eyes. “So, tell me why you’re really here, Dean.”
Dean leaned back in his chair, legs spread wide, and didn’t bother beating around the bush. “To be honest, I could use a job.” He held his breath and Ray’s gaze as he waited for him to speak, not letting it show how much he had riding on the answer. He’d left everything familiar behind to start this new venture and hoped to shit it would pan out.
After what felt like a lifetime, Ray finally spoke. “I’m gonna assume you know your way around an engine.”
He nodded curtly. “I do.”
“Okay, you can start tomorrow. Six a.m. sharp. I’ll give you two weeks to show me what you’ve got. After that, if I like you, the job becomes permanent.”
“I appreciate the opportunity.” Dean stood and held out a hand.
Ray shook it. “You got a place to stay lined up?”
“Still need to find something. Fixin’ to hit up a cheap motel in the meantime.”
“Fuck that shit. Don’t waste your money. I’ve got a buddy who owns some apartments not too far from here. Some of the guys you’ll be working with live there. Nothing fancy, but cleaner than a motel and cheaper, too. Five hundred a month, includes utilities. Stay as long as you like or until you find something better.”
“Sounds good. I’m definitely interested.”
Ray opened his desk drawer and took out a set of keys. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Dean followed Ray back out front. He beelined to a black and chrome hog, calling over his shoulder before getting on, “Follow me. It’s only a few blocks down the street.”
Ray pulled his bike over in front of a long row of single-story apartments. Dean did a quick count. There were eight in total.
After getting off their bikes, Ray led him to the first in line and knocked. A guy in a Budweiser tee and faded jeans opened the door.
“Hey, Jim. Got a tenant for you. Name’s Dean Keller. I just hired him on.”
Jim gave him a once over before holding out a hand. “Nice to meetcha.”
Dean shook it. “Same.”
Jim leaned away from the doorway, coming back into view with a set of keys. “Got one’s been vacant a couple of months now. Guy who used to rent it moved on to greener pastures. Got his degree, then got some fancy-ass job in LA.”
He stepped out, and they walked three units down. After sticking the key in the deadbolt, he twisted the lock at the same time shoving the door with his shoulder. “Gets stuck during the hotter months. Wood swells. Just need to give it a good push.”
Dean crossed the threshold, and it was like stepping into a furnace. But Ray had been right, the place was clean. Spotless from what he could tell. It had a basic apartment setup. Living area straight ahead, a small kitchen to the left, an archway that led to a hall and presumably the bedroom to the right.
“Whew, it’s hotter than fucking Hades in here.” Ray moved to a back window and pulled up the blinds before sliding the window open.
“It doesn’t have central air, but with the ocean breeze, you leave the windows open for a while and it’ll cool off. There is a window unit in the bedroom, though,” Jim supplied.
Dean took a few steps farther into the living room, glancing around. “I’m used to the heat.”
“Yeah, where you from?”
“Was living in Tennessee.” He turned to Jim and smirked. “Until I got sick of the heat and humidity.”
Ray laughed, tucked his hands into his back pockets, and looked at Dean. “Well, what do you think?”
The place was fully furnished—sofa, recliner, coffee and end tables, TV. Everything was at least two decades old but was in decent shape, and he wasn’t fucking picky. “It’s perfect. I’ll take it.”
Jim nodded. “I don’t do no formal contract. As long as you pay the rent every month, we’re good.” They made their way to the door, and he continued, “Need help moving anything in?”
Dean steppe
d back out into the bright sunshine. “All I own is strapped to my bike. Sold everything to move here.”
Ray whistled. “That’s risky, man.”
Dean couldn’t agree more.
Chapter Two
The screw slipped from between Dean’s fingers and fell into the engine bed. “Son of a…” He looked down at his hands. They were covered in grease. He pulled his head out from under the hood of the Mustang GT he was working on and grabbed a rag off a nearby workbench to wipe them off.
After almost a month of working for Ray, he could never get them completely clean. Black stained under his fingernails and around the cuticles no matter how much he scrubbed.
Someone in the next bay started an impact wrench, temporarily blocking out Supertramp telling him to Take the Long Way Home. He chuckled humorlessly under his breath. No worries there. The road home for him was long and winding—The Beatles for the win.
A commotion in the parking lot drew his attention. Ray was waving his arms around like a crazy person. It looked as if he was arguing with someone, but his body blocked who he was talking to.
Curious, Dean stepped out of the bay, his hand lifting to shade his eyes from the bright sunlight. Taking a few steps to his right, he was able to see the object of Ray’s attention.
And what an object it was. In fact, the woman going toe-to-toe with Ray was damn near the prettiest one he’d ever seen.
He took a few steps closer to get a better view. Scratch that, she was the prettiest.
Long brown hair fell in a cascade to the middle of her back, the sunlight catching all the red and gold highlights and making it glow. Her skin was smooth and flawless and sun-kissed to a light tan. Even in the throes of an argument, her features were soft. Rounded cheeks, small pert nose, full, ruby lips, and a little chin she had defiantly jutted in Ray’s direction.
He felt his hackles rise as new-found jealousy took hold. Only people who loved each other cared enough to get that angry.