by Kara Hart
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Other Bad Boy Books by Kara Hart!
Helena
Addison
Epilogue: Helena
Irresistible: A Bad Boy Navy SEAL Romance
Kara Hart
Kara Hart
Contents
Author’s Note
Other Bad Boy Books by Kara Hart!
1. Helena
2. Addison
3. Helena
4. Addison
5. Helena
6. Addison
7. Helena
8. Addison
9. Helena
10. Addison
11. Helena
12. Addison
13. Helena
14. Addison
15. Helena
16. Addison
17. Helena
18. Addison
19. Helena
20. Addison
21. Helena
22. Addison
23. Helena
24. Helena
25. Addison
26. Helena
27. Addison
28. Addison
29. Helena
30. Addison
31. Helena
32. Addison
Epilogue: Helena
Other Bad Boy Books by Kara Hart!
Copyright © 2017 by Kara Hart
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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Author’s Note
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Other Bad Boy Books by Kara Hart!
I promised her I'd never let her go. That's why I brought these handcuffs.
Come on, Kitten. Let's go for a ride.
I’ll stop when she begs
The hardest men take what they want
I play hard. On and off the field.
Lust is HARD. Love is DEEP.
Ripped SEAL. Filthy mouth. Big… gun. What else does a woman need?
You want to play rough? Be careful what you wish for.
I made one big mistake that almost ruined my life -- I had the quarterback’s baby.
Helena
The move has been hard on me. With college behind me now, I set out to the Midwest. Illinois, actually. A small town called Canton. It’s not exactly my dream town, but it’ll do. Besides, I am ready for a change from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. I can’t take that lifestyle anymore. Parties, drinking, always being up at the crack of dawn — that kind of life gets to you after a while.
I’m getting older. It’s time to find out who I really am. Of course, my friends are all completely shattered over the fact that I’m leaving them. “You’ll hate it out there,” they told me. “Canton, Illinois is the worst place on the planet. I’m pretty sure there’s like no people under 50 years old.”
I figure it’ll be a nice change of pace. Besides, Chicago is just a short drive away.
I set out to become a teacher. Despite my friends’ constant groans, this is what I’ve always wanted to do with my life. I want to help kids grow through their circumstances. America doesn’t have the best education system, but the country deserves the best teachers and I’m willing to try and be that.
When I set my suitcases down and the movers have unloaded all of my boxes into my house, I sit in the study and look out the window. It’s snowing outside and it’s beautiful. I go and make a cup of coffee and sip the hot contents. There’s nature out here. Real nature. Trees, bushes, and even the occasional animal runs by.
In New York, we had all of that too, only it was covered up by skyscrapers, and the concrete jungle that is the Big Apple. Here, I can breathe freely. I can finally rest knowing that I’m part of a community.
When I finish my coffee, I click the light on in the kitchen and notice it’s broken. In fact, I test all the lights in the house and none of them turn on. “Dammit,” I mutter. I grab a new set of bulbs and try them. Still, nothing is working. I add that to my list of things to do this week and walk outside into the cold.
I head “downtown” for the Winter Parade and Festival. I don’t know a soul out here and I figure it might be a good place to meet new people, maybe even people my age.
I grab my bike and go, feeling the cold winter air against my face. The snow is light and just forming around the sides of the street, but there’s a visible path toward downtown, which is only about ten minutes away from my home. The downtown here is quite a bit smaller than the one I’m used to, but it’s got a nice quaint feeling to it. That, coupled with the festivities of the season, I feel like a child again, carefree and happy.
I glance to my right and see a squirrel scurry up a tree. To my left, other cyclists ride by. In front of me, the marching band slowly walks by, with their bellowing trumpets and crashing cymbals. Everything is so beautiful here, I just feel so—
I hit an ice patch and skid, veering until I crash into a big man, and then a pile of snow, bike sliding from underneath my feet. “Shit!” I yell, plunging headfirst. I completely black out.
I open my eyes to a sea of people forming around me. If this happened in New York, things would be different. People would just walk by me, ignoring my pain.
“You alright? You crashed right into me,” someone says. It’s that man I slid into, but it’s not like I meant to. I glance over my shoulder and see him, tall and strong, standing over me.
“Shit,” I say again, covering my mouth. “I’m okay, I think. Sorry about that.”
He’s got tattoos and a military-type haircut. “It’s okay. Just try and watch where you’re going. It’s not really the time of year to ride your bike around,” he says, holding his hand out.
“Okay,” I sigh, disregarding his hand. I help myself up, feeling annoyed he would even say that to me. “Sorry for ruining your day I guess.” I rub my head and get back onto my bike
“Hey, wait,” he says, as I pedal away. “You shouldn’t get up so fast. You could have a concussion!”
“Leave me alone,” I find myself saying. I could have said worse. If this happened in the city, I would have flipped him off. However, I know customs are a little different here. People act a little politer. Well, sort of. That guy was kind of a dick.
Muscular, tall, broad-shouldered, and a total prick. Great. Somehow, I know I’m going to run into him again. This town is way too small not to.
I park my bike in the center of the festival, locking it up tight. I head for the nearest kettle corn stand. That was always my favorite as a kid. “Hey,” I hear his voice again. Dammit. Just leave me alone.
I turn around near the stand. “What?” I ask him. “Look, I’m sorry for bumping into you. It was an accident, okay?” I stand there, breathing quickly. I don�
�t know anyone out here yet and so far, the interactions with the townsfolk aren’t going too well.
“I just came over here to—” he starts talking, but I interrupt him. I don’t care what he has to say. I didn’t invite him over for a full-blown conversation.
“Can’t you just let it go?” I ask him. “I told you, it was an accident.”
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says. “Okay? I didn’t mean to rub you the wrong way. I was startled myself. I just wanted to know if you’re really okay. You hit your head pretty hard.”
“Oh,” I stop myself, taking in a deep breath. “Um, yeah. I’m fine.” I finally get a good look at the guy and even though he’s the type of guy I would assume would be a total dickhead, he’s actually got very kind eyes.
“Okay, good. I’m sorry again, ma’am, but I had to make sure before I head back into town to do some repairs. You’re all good? You sure?” he asks.
I notice him glance at my tits quickly and I blush. He looks away fast, trying not to be rude. Still, I saw it. “No, I’m okay,” I tell him again. “Thanks, and, um, I’m sorry again.”
“I’m sorry too,” he says, looking away awkwardly.
“We’re both sorry then,” I smile, looking down.
“Okay, well, uh. Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says.
“Hey, you do repairs?” I ask him, remembering the broken light switches.
“Yeah, I own a repair company,” he says. “You need something fixed?”
“Yeah, actually. I have some light switches that won’t turn on any lights,” I tell him.
“Did you try new bulbs?” he asks, smiling.
“Yes,” I haughtily reply. “Do you want my business, or what? You have a card?”
He reaches into his wallet and I can’t help but notice his undershirt, clutching to his abs and chest. His biceps are practically ripping at the seams. I gulp down and quickly make eye contact with him, hoping to God he didn’t see me just do that. When he smiles and hands me his card, I know that he saw me. Ugh.
I quickly make up an excuse. “Did those hurt?” I ask him, motioning at his tattoos.
“Nah,” he laughs. “Not worse than getting shot.”
I take his card and pocket it. “What? You’ve gotten shot before?” I ask him.
“Long story,” he laughs. “Anyway, I gotta run. Call me if you want those lights fixed.”
He walks away and I’m left staring at the man’s ass, moving up and down in those jeans. I pull out his card again and look at his name. Addison Williams. Do I really want to do this? Do I really want to hire that hunk of a man to fix my house? The answer is an obvious: Yes, ma’am.
Addison
That woman is one piece of work. First, she crashes into me. Next thing I know, she’s yellin’ at me. I can’t believe it. I’ve been around the world and back, but I’ve never met a chick like her. I know it was a short encounter, but there’s something about the way she carries herself that’s different from most people around this town.
Plus, she totally caught me staring at her tits and didn’t say anything, so I’m pretty sure she’s game. Not to mention, her eyes weren’t exactly making contact with mine either. I didn’t get her name, but I’m hoping she calls back. If anything, it’s another paycheck.
After the war, things have been a little crazy for me. You go into combat because you believe that you can make a difference in the world. You want to protect the people you grew up with, and the rest of the country depends on you. Take the present, for instance. Things are out of control. If I was a bit younger, I’d sign up all over again.
Only thing is, when you get out, you’re back in the real world. You’re not with your SEAL brothers anymore. Sure, you have your merits and your pins, and all of the memories. However, all of that good stuff just starts to fade into the past.
I took to drinking, fast, and to hot women. I came back home to Canton as a hero. You think I wasn’t going to celebrate immediately? Hell no. First thing I did was head down to The Office, a bar not too far from downtown. I always loved that place because when people called you up, you could tell them you were stuck at The Office and not be lying.
So I grabbed a few drinks and some pussy, and had the best week of my life. After all, that’s what I live for. Well, that and taking charge of my surroundings. I’m a fighter, plain and simple.
But after a while, you start to realize that people could give two shits about your battle scars. They could care less that you saw your best friend get killed in a ghost town overseas. They don’t want to hear your war stories, about the glory you once had. They want you to get the fuck to work.
“Make something of yourself,” my dad always told me, right before he left us high and dry. “Go out into the world and do something, for Christ’s sake.”
Of course, those words would be best spoken by someone else. I don’t think that man ever had a steady job in his life. So, I guess I’m doing better than he was at my age, and that satisfies me for the time being. I can get over all the war shit. I don’t even bring it up anymore. What’s the point of reminiscing?
I knock on my next job’s door and wait for the old woman to open it. “Who is it?” she calls out, knowing full well we scheduled this appointment.
“It’s me, Mrs. Faraday. It’s Addison,” I call out. “I came to fix that sink.”
“Addison who?” she asks, walking to the door. She always does this. It’s like clockwork.
“Addison Williams, Mrs. Lawdale. Can I come in?” I ask.
“One second! I’m getting ready,” she says. I roll my eyes when the door inches open and I see her scurrying away.
“What the fuck,” I whisper.
“Don’t come in,” she calls out as the door keeps inching open. This woman is about 65 years old and every time I come over, she attempts to seduce me. It’s gotten real old at this point. “I’m still changing.”
“Alright, I’ll wait,” I call out.
“Oh, don’t you come in yet!” she says again. “Really, don’t come in.”
“Ma’am, do you want me to fix that sink or what? I’ve got a tight schedule I need to abide by and—”
She opens the door, wearing lingerie and I immediately cover my eyes. “You’re so pushy!” she exclaims. “There, you happy? I couldn’t get dressed in time because of you. I feel so… violated.”
“Excuse me,” I push my way into the house and find my path to the sink.
“You should start in the bedroom, over here,” she calls out to me. “I think my dresser is broken.”
I sigh and turn toward her bedroom. She’s laying on the bed when I walk in and I struggle not to laugh. It’s not that I don’t like it when women want me, but she’s a little out of my range. No, that girl earlier… that’s closer to my type. Sweet, spicy, and a perfect hour-glass shape. Damn, I hope she calls.
I test each drawer to her dresser and notice they work perfectly fine. “The dresser looks okay,” I say, walking out of the room. I head to the sink again and test it. It’s also working. “Shit,” I sigh. “I’m leaving, ma’am. Everything in this house is in working order. You don’t need my services.”
“But I do need your services!” she calls out. “Addison!”
But I’m already at the door and I’m walking out. “Wait!” she calls out. “Ever since my husband passed, I—”
“Please don’t call me anymore. I’m getting tired of this,” I tell her off and get in my car, blasting my music as loud as possible. I peel out and head home.
It used to be I could pull as much tail as I wanted with this job. There’s always a housewife who wants the thrill of getting with the repairman who’s ex-Navy. One look at my tattoos and they’d answer the door on their knees. Now, however, it seems as if all the younger people have moved away. Ever since the economy crashed, people just changed.
Now the place is empty and I’m stuck with women like Mrs. Lawdale. All I want is for that woman on the bike to call me back. She’s different. She�
��s an outsider, like me.
I head home and turn on the lights to my empty house. Home sweet home. The phone rings and I jump at the receiver, answering it as quick as I can.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Bro, it’s me, Halloway,” my buddy says.
I sigh, to his dismay. “Ah, what’s up?”
“Don’t sound so bummed. Jesus, man. We haven’t hung out in weeks. I thought you’d be excited,” he says.
“I thought you were this woman I met earlier,” I laugh. “Sorry, man.”
He laughs loudly. “Scale of one to ten,” he says. “How hot was she?”
“She was beautiful. I don’t know, maybe an 11. Maybe a 12,” I say. “Get this. She crashed into me on her bike. I told her if she needed any repairs, she could always call me.”
“Well, she has to call you now,” he jokes. “Hey, let’s go out to the town dance and find some women to take home.”
“I don’t know man,” I sigh. “Don’t you think you’ve outgrown that ritual?”
“What do you mean? You love showing off your moves,” he laughs. “Come on, we never hang out anymore. You’re too busy for me. We could get some drinks and take some women on the Ferris Wheel.”
“Alright, I’ll go. I’ve got nothing better to do,” I acquiesce.
“Alright, I’ll meet you there. Give me a couple hours,” he says.
“See ya,” I hang up the phone.
I love this small town, but I’m starting to get a little bored of doing the same thing. I guess that woman crashing into me changed me a little today. Maybe it woke me up. Perhaps I was already heading there. Either way, I hope I see her tonight. I know I’ll be keeping an eye out.