Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Blurb
Excerpt
Dedication
Quote
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
Books by Author
About the Author
Near Perfect
Ashlyn Mathews
Commencement Bay Publishing
TACOMA, WA
Copyright © 2014 by Ashlyn Mathews.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com
Cover designed by Christy Caughie at www.gildedheartdesign.com
Edited by Claire Ashgrove at www.finishthestory.com
Near Perfect/ Ashlyn Mathews. -- 1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-9960946-6-5
Blurb
Not one to take a chance, Lucy Badeaux takes the biggest one when she uproots herself from her home town of Palm Springs and moves to a small town in northern Washington state. The location is perfect. Her job and schedule is perfect. Getting away from the drama of her ex-boyfriend hooking up with her stepsister . . . perfect.
Too bad living next door to hunkiest of hunks, Bryce Morgan, ex-Supercross champion extraordinaire, is less than perfect. He mows the lawn too early in the morning, talks too loudly on the phone about his personal issues, and annoys Lucy with his I’m-too-good-for-you attitude.
When Bryce finds her little book of secrets, Lucy suspects him of intending to bribe her with it. But what does Lucy have that Bryce wants?
As the attraction between them heats up and the barriers of their misconceptions of one another crumble, Bryce and Lucy soon realize their mutual "experiment" and near perfect friendship is the perfect set-up for love or . . . heartbreak.
Excerpt
He glanced over her shoulders with a distant look in his eyes. She let out an exasperated sigh. Something bothered him. She reclined in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and blew at a stray strand of hair falling in her eye.
“Why are you moping? Does this have to do with the…” She flushed. “With our experiment?”
It didn’t. Lucy had an idea Bryce’s less than enthusiastic mood had to do with his father. Surely, she could distract him with a topic he couldn’t ignore.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then laughed. A crooked smile spanned his face. A twinkle gleamed in his eyes.
“I dare you to say exactly what I propositioned.” He leaned in and locked gazes with her. “I dare you to tell me exactly what this experiment is. Be very clear what the intention is, Lucy.”
Lucy tipped forward until they were almost nose to nose. No backing down and live life to the fullest. That had been her mantra since her grandmother’s death. “You want us to have S.E.X.”
Her heart thudded. His pupils dilated. Her attention dipped to his mouth before her eyes shot back to his.
“Exactly.” He sat back with a satisfied grin on his face.
She extended her hand to him. “We’re on.”
To my readers. Thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy lives to tell me how much you like my books, sharing songs that remind you of my books, and for being a big part of my story-telling journey.
Dear diary. Today I met a boy. He stole my heart and won’t give it back.
―Unknown
Chapter One
The roar from her neighbor’s motorcycle woke her. Not again. Passing the back of her hand over her eyes, she got out of bed and headed for her bedroom window. She parted the curtains. Down below, in their shared driveway, it was quiet.
Bryce must’ve parked and cut the engine. No matter how many times Lucy had asked him to keep quiet on Saturday and Sunday mornings, he’d ignored her simple request. What an inconsiderate jerk. He was also unfriendly and . . . predictable.
Soon, he’d saunter over and grab the newspaper thrown next to their mailbox post, just like he’d do most mornings. On some of those early mornings, their eyes would meet. His would be bloodshot, probably from partying all night. Hers were dry and stung by the cold.
Working her twelve-hour shift as a radiology tech at the hospital then riding her bicycle home made for a less-than-attractive look. Not that she wanted to impress her hunky neighbor.
She was ready to close the curtains and return to bed when the glossy covers of books strewn near the mailbox post snagged her attention. Lying on the grass were the books Ellie—the housekeeper she’d befriended at work—had loaned her.
“Racy stuff to read during your time off,” Ellie had said.
How in the world had the books ended up in the grass? The red binding of one stuck out like a sharp splinter. Her journal. A year’s worth of heartache and frustrations were written in those pages. Damn, her bag must’ve ripped at the bottom.
Bryce stooped forward, picked up the newspaper and tucked it between his arm and his side. He started to straighten. She held her breath. Maybe Bryce wouldn’t see the books.
It was pure wishful thinking. If she could see the stack from her window, Bryce would have to be blind not to make out the obvious in front of his face.
He got on his haunches, and picking up each book, glanced at the titles. A groan slipped out of her at the humiliation of having her neighbor reading the titles. One in particular she remembered—Riding Shotgun. Wow, the guy on that cover was hot. She flushed.
When he got to her journal, her body went cold. Cursing, she rushed down the stairs in her shorts and a tank top, yanked on a pair of boots at the bottom of the stairs and swung open the door. She glanced around. The driveway was empty and his garage door closed. Dammit!
She stormed over to Bryce’s place and pounded on his door. The door opened. She tried not to stare.
With his crooked smile, head of dark curls, intense blue eyes, and single status, Bryce Morgan was a catch for sure. But he wouldn’t be caught by her. She found his overconfident, overinflated ego annoying. And she got the vibe he didn’t like her either. Not since that day she’d demanded he stopped mowing his small strip of lawn at nine in the morning. She’d just gotten home at eight after working her night shift.
The noise had cut into her sleep. “Can’t you mow the lawn at a decent hour like a normal human being?” she’d asked, more pissed off than she’d been in a long time. He’d given her a once over, shrugged, then went back to mowing the lawn. Yeah, there was no love lost between them.
“Something I can help you with?” The twinkle in his eyes told her he realized exactly why she was at his door.
“Hand them over.”
“Hand what over?”
She clenched her jaw. “The books.” Bryce handed her the books.
She turned them over and glanced at the spines. “Where’s the red one?”
“For that, you’ll have to work for it.”
A growl started low in her throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He began to close the door. She stuck her boot between the door and the frame. He raised a brow. She tipped her chin at him. He smiled. Her heart went pitter-patter. Lucy mentally told her heart to be quiet.
“Come over tonight, and I’ll tell you,” he finally said. He shamelessly checked her out from head to toe and back to her face again without even blinking.
Her dislike for him returned full force. She couldn’t stand his I’m-too-good-for-you-and-way-out-of-your-league attitude.
“Fine.” She unstuck her boot from between the door and the frame. “But it’ll have to be tomorrow night.”
Nodding, he closed the door in her face.
Lucy stomped back to her place. Inside her kitchen, she flipped through each book. None were ruined from being outside. If they were, she would’ve given Ellie money to replace them. Relieved, she set the books on the kitchen table next to the shoulder bag.
She unbuckled the bag. Crammed inside were her jacket and lunch bag. She unpacked. At the bottom was a rip in the seam, where the books had fallen through. She clutched the worn-down, brown bag to her chest. The bag had been a final gift from her father before he’d died in an accident.
On her bike ride to work last night and home this morning, that one item had comforted her. She wasn’t the best at patching up a hole, but for her father, she’d give it a try. Inside the bag, her cell phone vibrated. She unzipped one of the inner pockets, grabbed her cell, and glanced at the text message on the screen.
“Doing okay?”
Eric. Her mouth went dry and she couldn’t seem to draw in enough air. He was a guy from her past who she’d rather forget. Unfortunately for Lucy, Eric found her unforgettable enough to follow her from Palm Springs to Bellingham.
His moving here seemed innocent enough. Like her, he needed a change. That’s what he’d texted her after he’d dropped the news that he was in town. Permanently. He’d asked her out. After her fourth “no,” he hadn’t texted her again. Until now.
Eric’s father—Lucy’s stepdad’s business partner—must’ve told him the news that Lucy’s stepsister was pregnant with Lucy’s ex’s baby. What a mess.
She texted a smiley face. A few seconds later, her cell phone rang. She let the call go to voice mail. Eric ended the call without leaving a message. Good. She had nothing to say to that slimeball.
After her run-in with Bryce, then the message and call from creepy Eric, Lucy couldn’t go back to sleep. She curled up on the couch and turned on the morning news. The forecast called for snow. Her attention drifted to her unused, wood-burning fireplace. Having grown up in the desert, a winter storm wasn’t something she was used to planning for.
Home. She’d moved from Palm Springs to the town of Bellingham in northern Washington to get away from her family. But distance hadn’t been enough to keep them from hurting her. She closed her eyes and tried to forget what had happened back home in Palm Springs. Lucy couldn’t. Those memories were written in the pages that her annoying neighbor currently possessed.
Tomorrow night, she’d see Bryce. But what did she have that he’d want in exchange for her book of secrets?
* * *
Loud knocking jarred Lucy awake. Her place was dark and . . . freezing. Dammit, she’d slept through the day, and it was now night time. Why hadn’t the heat kicked in? She crossed her arms tight over her chest.
The knocking came in faster beats. She scrambled off the couch and hurried to the door.
“It’s damn cold out here.” Bryce called through the door.
If her place was freezing cold . . . she flung open the door.
“The whole neighborhood lost power.” Bryce shifted from one foot to the other. “I came by to see if you’re okay.”
She glanced above his shoulder. Even in the dark, it was hard to miss the glaring white of snow everywhere. Through her bone-deep tiredness, she realized the obvious—she’d slept through a snowstorm she’d been unprepared for. Shoot, how would she tell Bryce she was okay when even he must realize she wasn’t?
“Do you have firewood?”
“Um, no.”
“When was the last time the fireplace got checked?”
“Seven months ago.” At the inspection, before she’d bought her place. “I meant to get supplies but ran out of time.” She shrugged, trying to come off casual when inside she knew she was in a bind. Maybe now he’d go away. Then she’d come up with her own plan to get through this mess of hers.
“The power might be back by morning.” His breaths came out in white puffs of air. “Why don’t you come over? I’ve got a fire going. Tomorrow, I can take you into town.”
She wasn’t happy with the idea of spending time with Bryce in close quarters. By the annoyed expression on his face, neither was he.
Sure they would’ve seen each other tomorrow night for their planned meeting. No, not a meeting. Lucy believed it’d be more of a negotiation. This current situation was merely an inconvenience for them.
Yet, Bryce inviting her over was her chance to get her journal back. Then there’d be no negotiation. No way could she risk Bryce reading her journal. The more current stuff in the back pages was about him.
“Let me grab my things.” She ran up the stairs and yanked on oversized sweatpants and a sweatshirt over her shorts and tank top before heading back down. At the bottom of the stairs, she got her jacket and boots from the closet and put them on.
After locking her front door, she followed Bryce to his place. She felt a smidge of guilt at the thought of looking through someone’s belongings. Did he feel any remorse for planning to use her journal for bribery? Lucy hoped so. Otherwise, Bryce belonged in the same category as her ex—slimeball extraordinaire.
Wait, why didn’t Bryce just ask her for what he wanted without resorting to bribery?
Oh, yeah, she’d almost forgotten. They didn’t like one another. Whatever Bryce would ask of her, she would say “no.” Payback for the times he had refused to turn down the volumes of his parties, his conversations, and the dirt biking he did in the back woods next to their townhome.
Inside his place, she set her cell phone on the kitchen counter. The time on the screen said seven in the evening. She’d definitely slept in.
She worked every Friday and Saturday night, twelve hour shifts. Someone else might think it a drag to work what was considered every weekend, but she liked the schedule. Normally, after working her second twelve, she stayed awake the rest of the day. Her body readjusted faster.
From Monday to Thursday, she felt closer to “normal.” Now she’d be “off.” Her body—thinking she was working seven at night to seven in the morning—would want to stay awake. Sighing, she glanced around his place.
Bryce’s townhome mirrored hers. Straight ahead was the living room. To her left was the open kitchen with a breakfast bar. Off to the right were stairs leading to the bedrooms.
Her townhome had two bedrooms. She used the spare as a studio. Oils, pastels, charcoal . . . She hadn’t put anything on canvass for weeks. Instead, she’d poured her emotions into her journal.
Bryce motioned for her to come sit by the fire. Having removed her boots by the door, she took a spot in front of the flames and stuck out her palms. Bryce did the same. She gave him a sidelong glance. Next to her, he seemed huge.
He was as tall as her ex, at least six-foot tall. Unlike Jason’s thick body, Bryce’s was lean. His body was that of an athlete, an ex-Supercross star who had hurt himself almost two years ago.
Since then, he couldn’t seem to get back into racing again. She felt bad for him. The phone conversations she’d overheard hadn’t sounded promising. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but his talks were hard to ignore when he was pacing on his back deck while she had been sunbathing next door.
“Warm enough?”
His words pulled her out of her thoughts. Lucy nodded.
“Are you hungry?”
Again, she nodded.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
This t
ime, she smiled. With the right person, she could talk their ears off.
Chapter Two
When Lucy directed that smile at him, Bryce felt like he’d been sucker punched in the gut. Deep grooves lined her cheeks, and her hazel eyes gleamed. The light from the fire drew his attention to the flush on her face and her full, red lips. He inched back.
Lucy shouldn’t affect him. She wasn’t his type. He liked his women tall with curves in all the right places. She didn’t have enough of both to interest him.
In June, she had moved into the townhome attached to his. Right away, they didn’t like one another. It had something to do with his loud parties that went all night and into early morning.
She had asked him to keep the volume down. He had blown her off. The final time she had buzzed his doorbell during a party, he had handed her his then girlfriend’s ear buds. Lucy had left with her fists clenched at her sides.
After he’d broken up with Brittany, he had tried to patch things with Lucy. He had offered her a ride to the hospital on a day it’d poured buckets. Her answer had been a pissed off glare followed by a dismissive wave. Since then, he’d steered clear of her. Now it was December, and it killed him to know his path to a sponsorship was as close as next door.
Feeling off kilter at the rare smile she’d directed at him, he stood and grabbed the flashlight from the mantle. “I can’t cook anything fancy without a working oven, so how about Top Ramen?” He headed into the kitchen.
Not realizing she was behind him, he turned. They collided. He had to look down as she glanced up.
“Fancy out, ramen in.” She took steps back. “Need help?”
“Are you any good with propane burners?”
“No, but I can open packages,” she said shrugging her shoulders.
He glanced away and hid his smile from her. Give a quiet woman like Lucy too much attention, and she’d misconstrue it as interest. He wasn’t interested. He shone the flashlight in the direction of the pantry. She walked over and opened the door. From where he was at, he watched her stand on her toes.
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