Her resentment of him ratcheted up a notch, and allowed her to grab hold of her cool defiance with both hands. With a raised chin she nodded towards the door.
“Yes, I’ve cleaned up my act. But I’m still Estelle’s granddaughter, and I’m here because she just died. She left me the property, so I’m well within my rights to be here. That should ease Mrs. Gunderson’s concern. So you can go.” Grinding her teeth together, Ellie did her best to keep her voice level, her feelings in check. There was no reason, absolutely none that she should be so upset by seeing Gabe, by having him invade her space. He was a mistake from her past, and she wasn’t that girl anymore.
But when he dared to cock his head and let empathy wash over his features, she felt the revolt inside of her turning her stomach in slow circles. How dare he think he knew what she felt? He’d given up that right long ago, when he’d told her without words that he just didn’t care.
“Didn’t see you at the funeral.” Gabe’s voice was even, no obvious judgment to be heard. But Ellie knew it was there nonetheless, beating at her with invisible fists.
Once, he’d protected her from that silent judgment. She’d have been silly to expect the same treatment now, but still it shook her.
“And that must have been glaringly apparent, with the whole one or two other people who likely showed up.” She regretted the words as soon as they’d left her mouth. She and Estelle had never gotten along, but the old woman had still taken her in, raised her when both her father Joseph and mother Hannah had taken off.
“Ellie. I’m not condemning you. I’m asking why you weren’t here then, but are here now.” Damn him for looking concerned. It was none of his business. Her life, the one she’d forged for herself in the wake of his betrayal, was none of his business.
And still, she found herself spilling her secrets, just as she’d always done. Just one of the things that had sent her, the rebel without a cause, tumbling head first for the town’s golden boy so many years before.
Though this time her confession was colored with angry defiance.
“I always let Estelle know when I moved. But she didn’t note the last one down, I guess. In her paperwork or her will or whatever. The lawyer had a hard time tracking me down. I didn’t get here in time.” Though who had thrown her prickly old grandmother a funeral in her stead, Ellie couldn’t imagine. The town, she supposed.
It wasn’t her fault—she’d been a dutiful granddaughter, if not exactly a warm one, not ever letting the older woman worry about her whereabouts. Not that Estelle would have. And yet Gabe’s words had a worm of guilt eating its way through the lining of her gut.
“Hey. Are you okay?” The impenetrable set of his features softened as he seemed to recognize the signs of her inner turmoil. That big, hard body shifted, those feet in their black boots bringing him several steps closer to where she still stood, by the window.
The movement made panic flare to life. She could pretend that she didn’t care so long as there was space and angry words between them. But if he touched her… if he came close enough that she could make out that smell that was so uniquely him, the one that had always made her feel safe and cherished and yet excited her immeasurably…
She’d be done for. What that would entail, exactly, she wasn’t sure, but she knew it wouldn’t be good.
“Well, as you can see, everything here is fine. And as you can also see, I’m no longer the delinquent that I once was, so you don’t have to worry about hauling me in for shoplifting or destruction of property.” Her voice was unfamiliar even to her, harsh, filled with years of anger and hurt. Where had it come from? She’d felt both of those things when she’d been forced to leave town, certainly. But she’d moved on. Had carved out a decent—no, a good life for herself.
Then why did she feel like simultaneously crying and throwing something as she stood here in a room that held so many memories, facing the man who, in her childish innocence, had once been her everything?
“You can go.” She added when he simply straightened, looked at her with those damn eyes that had always seen too much. It was as if he knew, even after all this time—as if he could hear the unspoken words in her soul.
And how dare he seem so nonchalant, so unaffected by coming face to face with her when she, despite her best efforts, was torn to shreds inside? It was as if he’d come upon anyone, anyone at all that he’d once known.
It made her want to lash out, to kick and punch and scream just to get some kind of reaction out of him. But with the iron will that she’d been forced to forge after being unceremoniously dumped from her home, Ellie strove to match his impassiveness, nodding when he took a step back.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around then.” With an answering nod, he strode back across the room, the ugly carpet muffling his footsteps. Ellie bathed in the warm wave of relief at his retreating back, ignoring the baffling disappointment that infused it.
Gabe looked back over his shoulder as his feet hit the top step, and the sexy grin she remembered, tempered with restraint, made her knees shake.
“I hope some of that troublemaking delinquent is still in there, somewhere. Be a damn shame for all that fire to be snuffed out.”
And with that he was gone, leaving Ellie staring with a witty—she was sure it was witty—retort on the tip of her tongue. Damn it, she hated being the person who thought up the perfect comeback two hours after the fact.
But perfect or not, witty or not… he was gone.
Other Books by Lauren Hawkeye
Florence, Arizona Series:
Unspoken
Undone (Coming Fall 2015)
Unrequited (Coming Fall 2015
New Adult Romance:
Three Little Words
Spring Fling (with Julia Kent, Sara Fawkes, and Cathryn Fox)
Love Me For Me
Love Me If You Dare
Contemporary BDSM Romance:
Linger
Breathe
Blush
Surrender to Temptation
Fling (with Sara Fawkes and Cathryn Fox)
Historical Romance:
Seduced by the Gladiator
My Wicked Gladiators
See her website for complete booklists!
www.laurenhawkeye.com
www.laurenjameson.com
Rock Addiction by Nalini Singh
New York Times bestselling author Nalini Singh stuns with a sizzling contemporary romance…
Special Excerpt:
Her smile smashed into him with stunning force. He heard nothing of the party around him, saw no one but her. God, that smile, the way she cupped her sister’s face with such open affection before the two of them hugged. Really hugged. No fake bullshit, no playing up for the journalists in the room.
They weren’t paying attention to anyone else, happy simply to see one another.
Then she laughed as she drew back and the sound was chains around his heart, a thousand guitar strings pulling tight. It hurt and it was beautiful. For an instant, he almost forgot where he was, he wanted so badly to have that unguarded smile turned in his direction. He could imagine her warm brown eyes looking up at him as she ran her fingers over his jaw and rose on tiptoe to slide one hand around his nape to haul him down for a kiss.
Fucking hell.
When was the last time a woman had done that to him the instant she walked into a room? Never. Not even when he’d been a hormone-drunk youth. And the fact he knew she was exactly as she appeared to be, that she wasn’t out for fame or money? Yeah, that just made her sexier. No way was he leaving this party without her, the raw need to possess her a violent craving in his gut.
He didn’t believe in fantasy shit like destiny or fate or the biggest con of all—love—but he knew himself. And he knew what he wanted: to tug her to him with his hand fisted in her hair, brand her with his mouth, warn every other male in the room that she was off-limits. But the instant he did that, he’d make her front-page news when he wanted her all to himself.
Private.
Alone.
No cameras.
No lights.
No fucking interruptions.
Stupid Girl by Cindy Miles
Only fools fall in love…
After her senior year of high school leaves behind nothing but heartache, Olivia Beaumont escapes to Winston College—only to fall head over heels for cocky baseball star and Boston Southie, Brax Jenkins.
Special Excerpt:
Butterflies slammed against my stomach the whole walk down, and it irritated me. It wasn’t just anxiousness about seeing Brax. It was just the idea of going out with a guy. Any guy. And the closer I got to the parking lot, the more nervous I became. The more I wanted to turn around, run and hide. No matter if it was just a friendly dinner, that I was now a freshman in college and not a dumb high school teenager. Why couldn’t I just be calm, cool, collected? I willed those qualities to fall on me, and fast. To infuse in my DNA and make me full of confidence. After a few deep breaths, I had it together. I crossed the common room to the doorway, and pushed it open. And those newly summoned qualities fled the moment I laid eyes on him.
Braxton Jenkins straddled his motorcycle just in front of the walkway. His helmet was off, shades on. Faded jeans, the bottoms cuffed. Black boots. White tee shirt. Black leather jacket. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew the moment he saw me. A wide, white smile split his face in two.
The butterflies returned, full force and rabid, with teeth gnashing.
Holy God. I couldn’t do this.
Beaumont! Breathe, girl! Nutcracker! Nutcracker!
The entire silly conversation with Tessa from the night before poured into my brain and instantly calmed me. Just thinking the safe word made me smile. I couldn’t help it. It was just so damn funny. Anyway, it eased my nerves. I walked up to Brax, calm and cool. Friends. Nothing more.
“Hey,” I said. “So you won. How’d the pitching go?”
Whatever expression his eyes held was hidden behind those shades. “Bitchin’ as always. We spanked ‘em good. Nice blouse there, Gracie.”
I smiled, and his face launched into another heart-stopping grin. I inclined my head toward my truck. “Thanks. Let me grab my glasses and jacket.”
Brax said nothing, and I felt his eyes score a jagged blazing hole into my back as I walked toward my truck. It unnerved me a little, but I pushed it aside. I opened the door, and leaned in across the seat to grab my faded denim jacket and shades. Jamming the key in and locking it, I headed back toward Brax and his bike. His eyes were still hidden, but I knew his gaze followed me. I shrugged into my jacket, which, at this time of evening in August I highly doubted I’d freeze my ass off without. “Ready,” I said. I slipped my bag cross-ways over my head and shoulder, and plopped my keys in.
“Come here, Gracie,” Brax said.
My heart slammed. I stepped closer.
Brax reached behind him and retrieved a helmet. He slipped it over my head and snugged it down tightly, tucking my braid inside. I was glad he still wore his shades as his face drew closer and secured the strap under my chin. Those eyes, so close, would’ve made me squirm in discomfort. I stared at myself in their reflection, and at his fingers nimbly moving with the black nylon strap. I noticed a few scars I hadn’t seen before, small nicks that had turned silvery white with age. Definitely a roughened face, yet I had a hard time looking away. He smelled good; recently showered, light cologne. I drew a deep breath. Then another. It barely worked to settle me. My lungs just kept filling up with … him. Unavoidably, my eyes dropped to that mouth. Another breath …
Acknowledgments
A book is never just the work of the author. Big thank you's to the following people for their contributions and support!
Jia Gayles... for everything.
Deidre Knight... ditto.
The TKA family.
Jason and Amanda Chalkey, for answering all of my strange prison questions.
Denise Taylor, editor extraordinaire.
Steena Holmes, for soothing my worries.
Suzanne Rock, cause... duh.
Brittany St. Thomas, for answering my scenery questions.
Cindy Turner and Gale Sroelov, for beta reading.
Frauke Spanuth/ Croco Designs for the awesome cover.
Tara Gonzalez/ InkSlinger PR for getting the word out.
Angieleigh Eads for saving my sanity.
Jesse Feldman for helping the plot.
And, of course, my hubby.
About the Author
Lauren Hawkeye/Lauren Jameson never imagined that she’d wind up telling stories for a living... though when she looks back, it’s easy to see that she’s the only one who is surprised. Always “the kid who read all the time”, Lauren made up stories about her favorite characters once she’d finished a book... and once spent an entire year narrating her own life internally. No, really. But where she was just plain odd before publication, now she can at least claim to have an artistic temperament.
Lauren lives in the Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada with her husband, toddler, pit bull and idiot cat, though they do not live in an igloo, nor do they drive a dogsled. In her nonexistent spare time Lauren can be found knitting (her husband claims that her snobby yarn collection is exorbitant), reading anything she can get her hands on, or sweating her way through spin class. She loves to hear from her readers!
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http://www.laurenhawkeye.com/
http://www.laurenjameson.com/
twitter: @LaurenHJameson
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2014 by Lauren Hawkeye
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any 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 may quote short excerpts in a review.
eISBN: 978-1-625175-22-9
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