by Ashley Lyn
Table of 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
Accidental Heiress Sneak Peak
Text copyright ©Ashley Lyn
All Rights Reserved
No Part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who many quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Name, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Kennedy Kelly, Cover Crush Designs
Editor: Dana Hook, Rebel Edit & Design
Formatting: Jaye Cox
This book is for mature readers only.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my husband. Thank you for never complaining about how much I read.
Love, Your Wife
in·tro·duc·tion
My name is Alice; some people call me Ali. I was adopted by two of the most amazing women to have walked this earth. Sisters of the heart, Margo and Cleo—both former prostitutes who are loud, sassy, and totally crazy—live their lives on high-octane happiness. Nothing ever seems to get them down.
I live in a small coastal town that has long been forgotten and now inhabited by a collection of people that would rival Ripley’s Believe it or Not. My house sits at the end of the lane, surrounded by willow trees, and a plethora of flowers. It’s my own personal “secret garden.”
Normally, I work on Friday nights at the moms’ bar, Bailey’s, but I bargained for the night off. I’ve been feeling edgy and anxious lately, and I need a night to drop trou and go braless, and let the crazy creep out.
I made my very own fish bowl drink with way too much alcohol. I’m toasty, tipsy, and too far gone to notice him sitting on my porch.
I have on a set of fairy wings I bought for Halloween a couple years ago, a motorcycle helmet I purchased when I was going to be a biker babe, thigh-high, bright red boots the moms got me for Christmas, a pair of granny panties, and a paintball gun. Oh, and I’m topless.
I’d set up all my cardboard cutouts of the actors and musicians that annoy me on a molecular level, like Miley freaking Cyrus, and King Joffrey from the Game of Thrones. I’m darting all over my yard, shooting them with my paintball gun like I’m Laura Croft. Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention, and before I can stop myself, I whip around and shoot.
Dropping my gun and falling to my knees, I hit the dirt, horrified to see I shot Jason Momoa.
“Jason! Oh God, Jason. I shot Khal Drogo! My life is OVER!”
He grins, and I immediately think that I have drank entirely too much alcohol.
“My name’s not Jason, it’s Luke. I’m your new neighbor.”
I shake my head, trying to diffuse the alcohol haze. I could have sworn he said he was my new neighbor. I follow his gaze to my moderate C cups, and find them perked up, nipples standing at attention.
I look back at him, and his grin has turned a bit lusty. I look back down at my boobs, but instead see my jelly roll belly. I suck it in and look back at him as the gravity of the situation sinks in, and the only reaction I have is to scream. Loud, long, and wholly embarrassing.
Scrambling up, I run past him into my house, closing and locking the door behind me. I sink to the floor and bring my hands up to my mouth, feeling the alcohol pushing its way back up my throat.
“How about I come back in the morning and make a proper introduction?”
His deep voice floats over my skin like a hot wash, and my lady bits weep.
“How about you never come here again, and just forget you ever saw me.”
Laughter floats through the door, and I hear his footsteps leaving my porch. Then I hear a loud rumble, which makes me think he came here on a motorcycle, and my pussy gives another good clench.
Fuck my life.
***
Pounding. That’s what exists right now. My eyes crack open, and a streak of sunlight stabs me in the eye. I moan and roll over, jerking my comforter over my head.
I swear the pounding in my head is audible. Confusion settles in as I realize that someone is pounding on my door.
“Go the fuck away.”
“Wake up, sunshine. We have to have our proper introduction, and it’s noon.”
The events of last night flash behind my closed eyes, and it feels like fire ants are pouring out of the top of my head and sweeping down my body in a painful wave. Lifting my comforter I look down, and I’m still in my boots and panties. Maybe if I just stay still, he’ll go away.
“I’m not going away, so you might as well get that sexy little ass out of bed. I brought coffee and donuts.”
Coffee? Donuts? That’s almost incentive enough to drag my tired ass out of bed. Almost, but not quite.
“Let's go, Rambo. I’m giving you thirty seconds, then I’m coming in.”
“FUUUUCCKKKK!”
I hear him chuckle, and I flip my comforter back. I jerk my boots off and throw on my big fluffy robe before stomping out into the living room. I unlock the door and fling it open. My jaw comes unhinged, and I give a valiant effort to work up the proper amount of lust for the shirtless god standing there.
My cheeks pink up and I close the door, slamming it in his face. I can’t do this today, seriously. I glance over, into the mirror next to the door, and want to cry. My bright red hair is sticking up all over the place. I grab a beanie and slide it on, ready to try this again. Opening the door, I try to channel my inner queen, but I stumble with as much grace as my tired, hungover body can manage as I slide down the porch column to sit down on the top step.
He hands me a donut and a tear leaks out when I see the bacon on top. Bacon makes everything better, and that goes for donuts as well. He hands me the coffee and sits next to me.
I give him the side-eye, looking at him as covertly as possible. He just sits there, looking out at the ocean view as he drinks his own nectar of the gods. Taking my own sip, I moan as the caffeinated deliciousness slides down my gullet.
In the daylight, he looks nothing like my husband Jason Momoa. He has sandy blond hair that’s shaved on the sides with the top long, flopping over to one side. His right arm is decorated with a multitude of bright tattoos. He has muscles upon muscles, with a nicely haired chest. His nose is fucked—broken way too many times—but sexy nonetheless. His mirrored aviators hide his eyes from me, and I thank God for that small mercy. He seems like the type to have pools for eyes, and I really can’t afford to drown in those right now.
“My name is Ali, by the way, or Alice. Whichever one you prefer.”
He leans back against the railing and gives me his full attention, which is disconcerting.
“My name is Luke.” He holds out his hand and I take it. His warm, calloused fingers slide over mine, and I clamp my lips shut. Moaning like a cat in heat would give away a lot more than I want to, so I lock that shit down.
He grins. Apparently, I’m not fooling anyone.
Clearing my throat and taking another sip of coffee, I try my hardest to maintain this creepy eye contact, but I look away. Taking a deep breath, my lungs clog wi
th the smell of Luke; man sweat and some spicy cologne that should be banned.
“I moved in yesterday, in the house down on your right.” He hands me a piece of paper. Looking down at it, I see his number above a goofy drawing that looks like Thor in tighty whities. I giggle and look up to see him give me a sexy wink. My face flushes, and I know my cheeks are bright red.
Then I hear it, the puttering sound of the moms’ scooter, and I start to panic. I jump up, trying to find some place to hide him. My hands wander. I swear I didn’t pinch his nipple, but hell, maybe I did because he grabs my hands and holds them up above my head. He glances down at my gaping robe and smiles, showing me his perfect white teeth.
“Holy balls, Margo. Look at that fine piece Alice brought home.”
“Hey there, sexy. What’s your name?”
Screwing my eyes shut, I just want to become one with the earth and sink into it, becoming dirt. I peek, and he’s looking at my moms with amusement. I look over my shoulder and groan.
For a couple of forty-five-year-old women, you’d think they would dress appropriately, but nope. There they are, in all their inappropriate glory. Margo has on a top hat, stars and stripes bikini top, cutoffs, and flips flops. Cleo—oh dear God—is wearing a page boy hat, way too much eye make-up, a white and gold top, short shorts, and pink cowgirl boots.
“Ladies, I was just introducing myself to my new neighbor. My name is Luke. I just moved here from Colorado.”
“Well, isn’t that just peachy. Come into Bailey’s, that’s our bar, and I’ll give you a drink on the house to welcome you to our little community.”
“Will do, ma’am.” Before my brain can catch up to his intentions, I feel his lips brush against mine. He turns away and starts jogging down the road. My feet are glued to the spot as I watch his sexy ass in those athletic shorts.
Margo comes up on my left and Cleo on my right, and they both start rubbing my arms. My breath is sawing in and out of my tight lungs. He kissed me! Holy brass batman balls. I lick my lips and taste coffee and sugar. I’m sure it’s from my donut and coffee, but I imagine that’s just how he tastes.
From my left, I hear Margo say, “Jackpot.”
Dropping my chin to my chest, I look sideways at Margo, and she’s grinning like a loon.
Turning around, I head back inside and slip into my bedroom to throw on a pair of loose pajama pants and a tank top.
Margo and Cleo are both sitting on the coffee table. I walk over and sit on the couch, and drop my head into my hands as they both start to laugh. They’re such assholes.
“It certainly isn’t a bad thing that he kissed you.”
“No, it’s not that. Actually, it’s the most action I’ve had in years. However, what is bad is that he came by last night. He saw me topless and in my ugly panties, red hooker boots, fairy wings, and motorcycle helmet. That is what’s bad.”
“Not necessarily. He saw you flying your crazy flag and still wants to kiss you.” Margo says this as she moves to the couch and wraps her arms around me.
“I agree with Margo on this one.”
“Can we not talk about this and instead, talk about why you’re both here, tarted up on a Saturday morning?”
Cleo grins and adjusts her top. “Willa’s having a barbecue. We stopped by to make sure you were still going to open tonight. We’re going to party all night, like it is 1969 again.”
I burst out laughing. “Did you warn Sheriff Parker that y'all are gonna be raising hell tonight? How about this time, you three don’t burn down another building…or attempt to molest the sheriff. If I have to bail you girls out again, I’m leaving you there overnight.”
They both scowl at me, and I just keep on laughing. Getting up, I walk to my bathroom, but I poke my head around the corner. “And no new tattoos!”
Hearing their twin gasps, I burst out laughing again and shut the door. A few years ago, I came home and found them both passed out with their thong covered butts in the air and matching fresh tattoos of red lips on their butt cheeks.
I hear them both leave, and just as I hear their scooter start up, I turn on the water and step under the hot spray, washing away last night's boozefest.
***
Cleo
“Slow down, Margo! Christ, my tits just about fell out of my damn top.”
“Like you got enough up top to bounce out anyway. I’m going the speed limit. Ain’t my damn fault this road has more potholes than asphalt.”
I’m white knuckling the seat on this bitch. Why the hell Margo likes to cruise on this two-wheeled motorized piece of shit is beyond me.
“Next time, we’re taking the damn car.”
“Next time, your ass can walk,” Margo states.
“Sooo...what’s up with that gentleman caller of Al's?”
“Hopefully, Ali’s legs. That girl’s been more uptight than a nun in a whorehouse lately.” I burst out laughing, and my grip on the bike slips a fraction of an inch. However, it feels like a mile, and I scream.
“Would you quit screaming like a bitch?”
“I’m not a bitch—I’m the bitch. There’s a difference.”
I thump my head aginst her back. I just want to have a serious conversation about this.
“Be serious, Margo, for just a minute here. We need to do some investigating, ya know? Root out his skeletons and shit.”
“It’ll be fine. I got my party panties on, and I don’t wanna talk about anything serious. It’s our first party night in months. Christ on a crutch, I thought Willa’s daughter was never gonna leave. You burn down one building and everyone freaks out.”
I laugh, thinking about that last party. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Willa’s face when she came hauling ass out of the shed. The end of her cape was on fire. She had this maniacal light in her eyes, and a bottle of tequila in her hand.”
“I heard Willa’s ex-asshole is suing her for loss since it was all his shit in there.”
“That prick can get stuffed.”
“As far as the Ali and Luke situation goes, Cleo, just let the chips fall where they may. Ali’s a great judge of character. I got no weird vibes from him, only an indulgent kind of affection, and most definitely lust. If the man has skeletons, they’ll show soon enough, and then we’ll handle it.”
We finally roll into Willa’s, and Aerosmith's Walk this Way is blaring. Willa’s already halfway to being lit, and looks like a cross between Cher and Boy George.
“You think she was drunk when she painted her face?” All of a sudden, Willa takes off running, and I can't figure out where the hell she’s running off to.
“What do you suppose she’s doing?”
Next thing we know, Willa goes flying through the air and lands on her belly, then she’s gone, out of sight. We jump off the bike and find her laughing at the bottom of the hill. A Slip ’N Slide goes all the way down the hill, ending in a small pool.
“Fuck yeah! Hold my hat, Cleo.”
Margo takes a running start and down she goes, hitting the base pool. Water splashes out everywhere.
“Seriously, we’re too old for this shit. One of us, if not all of us, is gonna break a hip. Fuck.”
“Get down here, you chicken shit.”
I dump our shit on the front porch and get my boots off. Then I grab the dish soap and slather my front side. Balls to the wall, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to max it out.
“All right. Bitches, prepare thyselves.”
I take off running, hitting the Slip ’N Slide perfectly, but the problem arises when I hit the base pool. I hit it with such force due to the soap greasing, that I zoom right through it and end up face-first in the sand.
Willa and Margo are laughing their asses off and meanwhile, I’m fairly certain I have sand-burn on my nipples.
I need a shot and an ice pack for my poor nipples. Grabbing the tequila bottle and two beers out of the cooler, I knock back a quick shot and shove the beers into my bikini top.
“You
came down like a greased pig on a plastic slide.” Willa manages to say through her laughter. I flip her off.
“I soaped up my front side before slipping and sliding to my doom.”
We all take a seat and relax on our lounge chairs. “How did your Skype date go, Margo?” Willa asks, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes.
“Yeah, Margo. Tell Willa how your date went.”
“I’m never doing online dating again. His profile picture was easily twenty years old. When our Skype call connected, I was shocked. He looked like a weasel had a secret affair with a rabbit. His toupee was blond, and what hair he had left was sticking out of the bottom, and it was black. The conversation was about his weird collection of dolls. Then, if that wasn’t enough, he told me he had a surprise for me and texted me a dick pic. It looked like a misshapen earthworm with a hoodie on. I just gagged—I couldn’t help it. It was just so wrong. I told him that I wasn’t interested anymore, and not to contact me again.”
Willa and I are cracking up laughing, and Margo’s lips twitch because really, it’s freaking hilarious.
“Ugh. This town needs a fresh infusion of a good cock.”
“There is one new one, but he’s locked on Ali, and way too young for us.”
Willa’s eyes go wide. “What is this?”
“We dropped by Ali’s to double check on her before coming out here. He was kissing her good-bye in the driveway when we pulled up. He looks like he was birthed from the loins of Adonis himself, then dipped in a vat of sexy.”
Willa blows out a breath. “Here’s hoping he brings his hot father or uncles to town.”
“I’ll toast to that.”
Willa gets up and grabs the hose to refill the base pool, as Margo starts heading back up the hill. My pride, and my breasts, are still recuperating. I think I’ll sit this one out.
Pulling a beer out of my top, I crack it open and crank up the tunes. It’s party time, bitches!
at·trac·tion
Ali