by Maria Carter
Table of Contents
Justify My Love | Maria Carter
Chapter One | "No. No, no, no, no, no!"
Chapter Two
Chapter Three | "Here, Eric. Take these with you."
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 | One month and seven days.
Chapter Nineteen | Almost there.
Chapter Twenty
THE END
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Justify My Love
Maria Carter
MARIA CARTER
Published Through Createspace Independent Publishing Platform
First published in the United States of America by Maria Carter,
From Createspace Publishing, 2016.
Published in Maria Carter 2016.
Copyright © 2016 Maria Carter.
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, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted
by copyright law.
ISBN 978-1539626756
Printed in the United States of America
1 5 3 9 6 2 6 7 5 6
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For Sophia & Megan who have my
Undying love!
Chapter One
"No. No, no, no, no, no!"
Vanessa pressed down on the gas, but the sluggish thumps told her it was no use. She was in the middle of Hickman, Virginia, and she had a flat tire. She muttered a few choice words and turned on her hazards before pulling off the highway. This was just what she needed. She fumbled in her purse for the number to call roadside assistance. She'd meant to put it in her cell phone but had never gotten around to it. And then, with a groan, she remembered exactly where it was—buried in her backseat under the last three months of her life.
Her fall from grace had been relatively quick—an aspiring professional dancer and occasional model now bruised both physically and emotionally by one Goe Black. He'd hit her just one time, and now she was leaving him and her beloved Manhattan to stay with her parents at their vacation home in Florida. But even that plan hadn't panned out.
She slumped down in her seat and covered her face with her hands. Son of a bitch.
A knock sounded on the driver's side window, and Vanessa nearly hit her head on the ceiling. A man with an unshaven face and a trucker cap grinned at her. But these weren't the details she paid much attention to—it was the dimple set impeccably in his right cheek and his sky blue eyes. Despite his rustic exterior, he was attractive.
"You know who else was attractive, Vanessa?" her grandmother's voice echoed in her mind from years ago. "Ted Bundy."
And Goe.
This guy might have a couple of nice features going for him, but she was well aware she was a damsel in distress on the side of the road just waiting to be preyed upon by a dragon. It would fit in with her luck so far.
She cracked the window ever-so-slightly and pushed her sunglasses onto her head.
"Need some help?" the man asked in an impossibly deep voice.
"Um...yes," she answered slowly.
His grin widened, and he ran a hand over his jaw, amused by her obvious caution. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"New York," she answered.
"Well, if you don't feel comfortable getting out you can just pop the trunk. I'm sure you've got a spare and a jack in there."
Vanessa battled internally for a moment, but finally her desperation and the potential embarrassment at having him go through her things won out.
"It's actually pretty full in there. I'll get out."
He glanced at her back seat, and his gaze lingered for a moment on her cheek. Her face flushed. All the makeup in the world couldn't hide the bruise.
"I'll bet," was all he said.
He straightened and stepped out of her way. She took her keys out of the ignition, popped the trunk, and opened the car door. She kept her key chain and pepper spray looped around her thumb as she helped him unload poorly-packed bags and boxes. He didn't ask any questions. She appreciated that.
Finally, he was able to get the metal contraption he needed. Vanessa watched him squat down by her back tire and loosen the bolts. There was something strangely sexy about his worn, non-designer jeans and plain cotton t-shirt. She watched his movements unashamedly. It had been a long time since she'd had the option of looking at other men.
Not that the same could be said of Goe and other women.
Vanessa clenched her fists at the raw memory of walking in on him and a leggy redhead, at the subsequent argument and his out-of-the-blue abuse. The sound of aerosol answered. She jumped, and so did the stranger.
"I'll put this away," she said with flushed cheeks, shoving the pepper spray and keys in her pocket.
"Thanks." He cranked the jack and worked off the ruined tire.
"I really appreciate this." Vanessa broke the silence.
"No problem."
"Do you...live here?"
That smile broke onto his face again. She was sure it was thanks to her pathetic attempt at conversation. In the city, Vanessa had just been too busy to make off-the-clock small talk with strangers, as had most other urbanites. Now she wasn't sure how to proceed.
"I do," he answered. He stood to take her spare out of the trunk, then came back to put it on before taking the initiative in their exchange. "What's your name?"
"Vanessa."
He tightened the bolts, lowered the jack, and stood once more. He wiped his palm on his jeans and reached out to shake her hand.
"Eric Sims."
"Good to meet you."
He put all of the tire-fixing gadgets back where they belonged, and Vanessa helped him replace the boxes and bags in the trunk.
"All you've got on there is a donut," Eric informed her. "You're gonna need to find a shop and have a new one put on."
Vanessa glanced down, disappointed, at the too-small tire. She just wanted to get to Florida and be done with it.
"Oh."
"I can recommend one nearby, if you need it," Eric offered.
"That would be great, actually."
"You can follow me. It's my brother's place."
Vanessa nodded and watched him retreat into the black truck that dwarfed her silver sedan. She started her own car and let her sunglasses fall back onto her nose. She glanced in the mirror and tried to cover her bruised cheekbone with her chin-length brown hair. It was no use. She sighed and pulled on the road behind Eric.
He was definitely a gentleman for not mentioning her desperate state.
Eric glanced in the rearview mirror. Vanessa's sunglasses made it impossible to read her expression or see where her gaze fell. He was curious about her. It was clear she was running from someone or something, but he sensed that prying—when she was already wary of him—would not be a smart choice.
He pulled off the highw
ay and onto another busy road that led them into the center of Hickman. His brother's mechanic shop was on the corner across from Wal-Mart and a few restaurants, one block from the middle school. Vanessa pulled into the gravel parking lot behind him and turned off her car. They got out. Eric drank in the sight of her long legs in khaki shorts and her flattering, frilly red top for the second time that afternoon. He lifted his cap and ran a hand through his short blond hair in a weak attempt to divert his sex-deprived mind. His brother came out to meet them.
"Hey, Bommer," Eric greeted.
"Hey, man, what brings you here?"
"This is Vanessa. She was passing through and got a flat."
His brother shook her hand and smiled at her. "I can take care of that for you, no problem."
Bommer was thirty-four, three years older than Eric. He had yet to settle down and tried to compensate for his fear of commitment by flirting with every female in sight. The way he eyed Vanessa now told Eric he thought he'd found a new victim.
Eric cleared his throat, drawing Bommer's attention back to the task at hand. The annoyed I saw her first feEricng he'd experienced plenty with his brother over the years crept up, but he forced it back down. There was no point. He knew nothing about Vanessa, and in an hour or so she'd be on her way to wherever she was going.
Bommer miraculously managed to focus on the car, circling it, pushing on the tires. Then he looked apologetic.
"I'll have to have a tire brought in, unless you want to change all four. Those are customs. I don't think you have any of these at your yard, do you, Eric?"
Eric glanced down. The tires were sporty, expensive. He had a feEricng she hadn't been the one to pick them out. Maybe she wouldn't be leaving so soon after all.
"I haven't seen any come through."
"So...it could be tomorrow?" Vanessa clarified.
"Afraid so. We've got a motel around the corner if you have to stay overnight. I'll do my best to get them in today, but it's close to closing time already."
"I understand."
Vanessa's smooth brow furrowed slightly. She couldn't be happy with the situation, but she kept her cool, rummaging through her purse and pulling out a business card.
"This has my cell number on it. Please keep me updated."
"Will do." Bommer gave her another grin, nodded to Eric, and headed back to his garage.
Vanessa was already looking at her surroundings, alone and out of her element, in a seemingly constant state of distraction. He supposed she had every reason to be. Her sunglasses were off again, giving him a perfect view of that shiner.
"Do you want to grab something to eat?" he asked suddenly. "I have some free time. Might give you a chance to get your bearings."
"That would be nice. Really nice, actually. I forgot to eat."
"How do you forget to eat?" He laughed.
She shrugged and smiled amiably but offered no other information. He didn't press her. He guessed the answer was pretty obvious.
"Is the diner okay?" he asked. "It's right across the street."
"Sure."
Vanessa followed Eric to Tiff's Diner. They sat in a booth near the door. The few other people seated in the cozy establishment seemed to know each other. A couple in the corner waved to Eric, and he returned the gesture. Vanessa felt just a little out of place, but she had to remind herself she'd be feEricng more so if this stranger hadn't taken her under his wing for what she hoped would only be the next few hours.
There was a chance, however miniscule it was, that Bommer would be able to find and fit the tire while they were eating. She turned her phone to vibrate and set it on the table, praying Bommer would call with good news while they were there. An older woman came over to take their order. Vanessa brushed her hair self-consciously over her cheek.
"Well, hi, Eric. Who's this you have with you?" The waitress smiled kindly at Vanessa.
"Vanessa Dickson. She's hanging out in town while Bommer fixes her car. Vanessa, this is Tiff. She owns the place."
"Hi," Vanessa greeted, only hesitating a moment before returning the woman's smile. Everyone was so outgoing here. It would take some getting used to.
"Will you be wanting coffee, too?"
"Yes. Black, please."
"I'll be right back with that. Here are your menus."
She handed a laminated page to each of them and left. Now Vanessa had time to think about it, she was starving. They looked over their choices in silence. Or that's what Vanessa thought they were doing. She glanced up to find Eric looking her over instead of the menu. He moved his gaze quickly back and she did the same. What could she say? She'd looked up for the same reason, to check him out.
She decided on a BLT and set the menu back down. Tiff came over with their coffee and took their orders. Vanessa sipped on the bitter beverage and looked at her phone.
"So you teach dance?"
She met Eric's gaze, suspicion her first instinct. "How do you know that?"
"You gave Bommer your card."
"Oh. Yes, I do. Mostly as a tutor or substitute."
"Is that what you went to school for?"
"No. I didn't go to college." She'd been through this conversation plenty of times before and was unapologetic. "I can be a fifty-year-old student. I can't be a fifty-year-old dancer."
She took another long, calming sip of coffee. It brought her back to reality, kept her sane, kept the butterflies at bay. She shouldn't even have butterflies. She'd just been hit by a man, for Christ's sake—why were her hormones flaring up over another one?
"And you've been able to make a living off dance?"
He seemed impressed. She could feel her cheeks flush.
"No, not exactly. I've just been chasing the dream and making ends meet in the meantime. I modeled briefly when I was eighteen. Then I met my boyfriend. My emex/em-boyfriend," she corrected herself. "He just never asked me to give more than I could afford."
Vanessa looked down at her drink. Talking about Goe was difficult. Looking back on all the mistakes she'd made while with him was harder. Her next words were quiet, rueful.
"I thought he was very understanding, letting me devote most of my time to practice and auditions instead of trying to come up with rent money. I guess he was just keeping me dependent on him."
She didn't want to look at Eric. She didn't want to look at herself. Shame and bitterness swelled inside her. She took another sip. Then Eric asked the question she didn't want to answer.
"Is he the one who gave you that?"
Vanessa looked up. His blue eyes were full of concern and free of judgment. She hadn't wanted to talk or think about it until she got to Florida. Until she was safe in her parents' condo, surrounded by their love and support. And now, somehow, she was finding all that in a man she'd known for less than an hour. She nodded. Eric shook his head and ran a hand over his stubbled chin.
"What an asshole," he muttered.
"That's an understatement." She downed the rest of her coffee and looked anxiously for Tiff. She was in dire need of a refill.
"Is that the only time he's done it?" Vanessa nodded again. "Where are you headed?"
"Florida. My parents are there. I wanted to tell them what happened in person. But Mom will probably be calling soon, anyway. She likes to check in."
She glanced at the phone again. As if her mother was reading her mind from hundreds of miles away, the gadget buzzed and lit up. Vanessa grabbed it and answered, grateful for the distraction.
"Hello?"
"Where the hell are you?"
In her haste, she hadn't checked the caller ID. Dread consumed her. She hated feEricng like this.
"Fuck off."
She hung up the phone and tossed it back on the table. Eric's expression was dark. Her situation seemed to genuinely bother him. She felt guilty. He had to have his own problems.
"So you never told me exactly what it is you do," she said, and he let her change the subject.
"I run a salvage yard."
"For cars?"
"For everything. We strip cars and recycle metal. If you have an old washer somewhere in the back of that car, I'll take it off your hands." Eric grinned, Vanessa laughed, and the mood was light again.
"My parents are retired in Florida. Orlando," Eric commented.
"Mine vacation near Siesta Beach."
Tiff brought their food, and Vanessa scarfed down the first half of her sandwich. The bacon must have been prepared by someone who was trained to keep every ounce of fat in food. It was dEriccious. Eric chowed down on a burger and seemed genuinely amused by her state of culinary ecstasy.
"Do you have a lot of people working for you?" she asked, slowing down and, now that she wasn't starving, remembering her manners.
"A few. My cousin's the assistant manager. I have two heavy lifters and a receptionist."
"Is it nearby?"
"Everything's nearby." He laughed.
They finished their meal, and Eric threw down enough money to cover them both. Vanessa let him. But as they stood to leave, he dropped a bomb she was completely unprepared for.
"I have to go pick up my daughter from cheerleading practice."
Vanessa struggled to keep her mouth from dropping with the unexpected information. "Oh. That's fine. It looks like your brother needs more time, so...I'll just double check with him and then get a motel room. Thank you so much for lunch. Dinner. The meal."
He gave her an odd look. "No problem. Are you sure you're okay on your own?"
"Yes. Absolutely." She smiled too widely.
"Well, I have to get to my truck, anyway. I'll walk you over."
"Sure. Thanks. Again."
Vanessa's stomach was doing flips. She was so stupid. Here she was, running away from everything she'd ever known, leaving the man she'd thought she loved, and flirting her ass off with another, married man. She needed to get it together and get the hell out of here as fast as possible.
Eric caught her arm as they exited the building. "I'm sorry, Vanessa, I should have mentioned her before. It usually doesn't take this long for Julia to come up, actually. But you should know—I feel like you should know—I'm not married."
"Oh."
Vanessa didn't know what to say. She'd just met the man. Why did it matter to her if he was married or not? It did. But it shouldn't. She didn't want it to. And she didn't want him to know it did. She must have given him a look like he was out of his mind—only to cover for the fact she was out of hers—because he dropped his arm and looked sheepish.