by Frankie Love
“So, Charlie says you stopped by the office...” Greta starts.
I swallow, regretting telling Charlie that Clive had spent the night. But I’m sure they all know that now so there is no point in pretending otherwise.
“You know, the fact that Clive stayed with you is pretty remarkable,” Maggie says gently, more gently than I’ve ever heard her speak. She’s usually loud and seems to be overcompensating for something, which makes no sense since she’s drop-dead gorgeous, hilarious, and has loads of friends considering how many people were at her party.
“Well, staying with me didn’t seem to matter much, to be honest. He left in the middle of the night without an explanation.” I press my fingertips to my forehead, feeling so stupid. So blind.
“There is an explanation, actually,” Greta says. She looks around the bakery and seeing it is empty, she talks candidly. “After my husband, Luke died, Clive changed. Charlie did too for that matter. See, all three of them were best friends, opened the business together and everything. Luke died while the three of them were on a rafting trip. He drowned and the guys were with him, trying to save him.” Greta blinks away her tears, and Maggie reaches over and squeezes her sister’s hand.
“After Luke passed,” Maggie says, “the guys were never the same. Charlie became a player—sleeping with anything with a pulse, but not opening up to anyone in a real way.”
“And Clive,” Greta says, “he shut himself off to the possibility of love. He says he’d never want a woman he loved to go through what happened to me after I lost Luke.”
When I look into Greta’s eyes, it’s obvious what happened to her after Luke was gone. She had lost half her heart.
“I understand what Clive is thinking,” Greta continues. “He thinks he can protect people by keeping them at arm's length, but that’s more painful for everyone.”
“I’ve been through loss, too,” I tell the women. “And I am so sorry about Luke.” I sigh. “But I don’t want to beg a man to decide I’m worth changing for. I want a man who believes that without me saying a word.”
Maggie laughs a little too sharply. “I totally understand that.” Her face strains, hurting, and I can see she’s longing to find her happily ever after, too.
“Clive will come back,” Greta says. “Give him another chance when he does.”
“He might not want another chance,” I say picking up my fork.
“True,” Greta says, cocking her head, and looking at me the way my sister used to do when we were little girls. Like she knows something I don’t. “But what if he does?”
Chapter 11
When I finally come to, I fear the worst. Blood soaks my clothes, but I know head wounds bleed the worst. And I also know I need to get the fuck off this mountain.
I know I’ve broken a few ribs. There’s a gash on my leg and my vision is blurred, but as I lie on that sheet of ice, I can finally see the fucking light.
I’m not just a man—I’m a goddamned fool and I need to get home.
I need to see Hazel.
I need to set things right.
But as I try to stand my legs give out. I’m forced to crawl, and as I begin to make my way back down the treacherous mountain on all fours, I realize I needed to drop to my knees in order to understand.
Eventually, I’m able to stand, I couldn’t have made it down in one piece any other way. It takes days, days where it rains cats and dogs, and I don’t see a soul the entire time. I’m moving closer to the valley inch by inch because no one else is stupid enough to be out on this ridge in this weather.
And maybe it’s for the best—to be forced to this place in such a desperate way.
My body had to be bruised, broken, and covered in ice in order to thaw.
Now I know what matters. It took nearly cracking my skull to get my head on straight.
I know what I want.
What I need.
But I also know Hazel may not want the same thing. Not after what I’ve done.
When I get to the bottom of the mountain, in my car, I open my glove box and turn on my cell phone. There’s no way I can drive myself to a hospital—and that’s where I fucking need to go.
Charlie needs to be the one to see me at my worst because I have a few things I need to say to him before I say anything to anyone else.
Charlie finds me, propped against my truck, at the base of the mountain in record time. He must have sped the entire way here, after he got my SOS text.
“What the fuck, man? You need to get to a hospital.”
I nod, knowing he’s right, and he drives me to urgent care after helping me get in the passenger seat of his truck.
I explain what happened, how I fell and nearly died.
Charlie parks the truck and faces me. “You’re fucking crazy going up there alone. Were you on a death mission?”
I run my hand over my beard, knowing it was a fool’s errand, thinking I could run from my feelings. Run from Hazel.
“Losing Luke fucked us up real bad, Charlie,” I tell him. “We’re being idiots, both of us, in our own ways. It’s like living in two extremes, thinking that either way is going to save us from heartache.”
“I thought I got a girl pregnant last month,” he tells me, shaking his head. “I fucking didn’t even remember her when she called me, freaking out. She got her period the next day but damn, even that didn’t teach me a lesson.”
I don’t judge him, but I also know neither of us has dealt with losing Luke in a way that honors his life.
“We can do better. Be better men.”
Charlie nods. “You love her?”
I squeeze my eyes, fucking being in a truck with my best friend. Broken ribs protecting my own fragile heart.
“I do,” I tell him.
“Your sisters say she’s upset, like, real bad. You hurt her man.”
“I know.” It’s so fucking hard to hear that, knowing it’s the goddamn truth. “But I think I can make it up to her.”
“You better not pull any stops if she’s the one.”
“You don’t think it’s crazy, to fall so hard, so fast?”
Charlie just shakes his head, shoving his keys in his pocket. “I don’t think falling hard is crazy. I think walking away is the part that was fucking insane.”
Chapter 12
I hear from people in town that Clive’s home, that he had an accident on the mountain but that he’s okay.
I’m not going to be the one to chase him down. I’m not going to make his special candy and smile all sweet.
No.
If he wants me he knows where to find me. At my nearly-falling-apart candy cart. It rained for three days straight and while I think my DIY skills are decent, the elements have their own thoughts on the matter.
The afternoon after Clive has supposedly returned, Greta and Maggie come out to my cart with Lucy and Milo.
“I brought you some flowers,” Lucy says offering me a bouquet. “Pink roses are your favorite, right?”
I bring them to my nose and inhale. “They are. Where did you get them?”
“Uncle Clive.”
I smile, even though hearing his name hurts a little. “He grows roses?”
Lucy and Milo laugh. “No, silly. He has lots of them though.”
Not understanding, I look at Greta and Maggie for an explanation.
“I think you should just come with the kids,” Maggie says. “It’ll make more sense that way.”
I look at my cart, not wanting to leave it unattended.
“We’ll stay here and look after it.” Greta takes the bouquet from me and smiles eagerly.
Lucy takes my hand, and Milo takes the other. Not wanting to argue with the people who have been so kind to me, I let the kids lead the way.
“Where are we headed?” I ask as they take me down Main Street, passed the bakery and Clive’s office. They stop and point to the building across the street.
“You’re supposed to go there now,” Lucy says.
> “Are you coming with me?”
“Nope, we’re not allowed.”
“I’ll hold your hand when we cross the street,” I say, thinking that’s what they mean.
“Nope, Mama told us we couldn’t, no matter what you say.”
I laugh in confusion. “Okay, and what is it that I’m looking for across the street?”
“You’ll know when you see it.” Lucy grins.
“Alright,” I say, letting go of their hands, and I wait, watching them walk back toward their mom.
Satisfied that they are safe, I cross the street, not knowing what I’ll find.
But when I get closer, I see a trail of pink rose petals on the clean city sidewalk. I cover my mouth, not knowing what to expect. But my heart starts beating faster and faster and I step closer to the building and see it’s an empty storefront.
Except it isn’t empty.
There is a sign in the window: OPENING SOON: Sweet Dreams.
Tears flood my face because beyond the sign, inside the shop, the trail of rose petals ends at the feet of the man I gave my heart to after just one night.
Pink roses are everywhere. Vases and vases and vases of them. So many I could never count them all. And the store is bright white and empty and I look around, not knowing what to think or feel—but my heart is bursting at the seams.
“Hazel,” Clive says, a bandage around his head. “Welcome to Sweet Dreams.”
I cover my mouth—not wanting to say something that will break this spell. The one he cast over me the moment we met.
“This is for you. No strings attached. I bought the building outright and put it in your name. It’s yours.”
“Why?” I ask, my hands now pressed to my heart, scared he doesn’t want what I want.
Him. Me. Us.
“Why no strings?” I ask.
His eyes flash a dark blue. “I got scared and ran. And you deserve more than that. I don’t want you to think you owe me anything by accepting this gift.”
“But you came back,” I say. “Does that mean you don’t want to stay away?”
He steps toward me and I step toward him.
“That isn’t what I mean at all. After Luke died, I swore I’d never fall in love. Because I didn’t want anyone to hurt the way my sister hurt. But I almost died up on the mountain, Hazel. And do you know what I realized when I was up there, thinking it was my end?”
I wipe away my tears, unable to imagine losing Clive forever before I ever really had him.
“What did you think?” I ask.
“I realized I was a fool. Life without doggedly pursuing everything we want is barely a life at all. And this is it; this is all we get. Our one wild and precious life.”
He reaches for my hands. “Hazel, this is your life too. But I can’t wait another day to say this, because the truth is, there are no guarantees. And I know it’s fast, and I know it’s soon. But I love you. I know that now. And the truth is, I knew that the moment I laid eyes on your sweet face.”
My hands tremble, my legs wobble, my heart shaking—unable to contain his words, words that promise, words that have power. Words that offer me everything I’ve ever dreamed of finding.
Clive cups my cheek with his hand. “I got all these roses, more than we could count because I don’t know how much time we have. If there are a dozen days, or dozen years, or more. But if I only had one rose to give, I’d give it to you. And if I had a thousand, I’d give you those, too.”
Then Clive drops to one knee and pulls out a black box. He opens it and offers it to me.
“Marry me, Hazel. Be my bride. Let me love you fearlessly. Let me love you forever.”
I nod, shaking, falling into him. His arms catching me and holding me.
Like I am something precious.
Like I am his.
He slips the ring on my finger. A simple gold band with a beautiful diamond in the center. But I can’t focus on the ring. My eyes, they are locked on his.
I moved to this town hoping to start a new chapter of my life but never expected to have my entire love story written in a week.
Epilogue
One year Later
I pull my wife against me, her blossoming baby belly turning me on.
“Love, you are driving me wild,” I tell her, my fingers between her thighs. She is slick with desire, and I pull my finger to my mouth, tasting her. “So damn delicious,” I groan.
Her hand runs over my shaft, pumping me up and down, getting me nice and hard.
“I think it’s against health codes to fuck in a candy shop,” she tells me.
I laugh. “Oh baby, we’re not fucking, we’re making love.”
She showers the air with giggles. We’re in the back room, after hours, and I’m helping her clean up shop but I think we’re about to make a mess.
As I lift her to the prep counter, I spread her legs, my pants already dropped to the floor.
She leans back, knocking over a bag of powdered sugar. The billowing white clouds make the air smell sweet.
“You’re so naughty,” she teases.
“You love it,” I say, pulling her ass to the edge of the counter, her pussy is so ready for my cock.
I fill her up, and she bites her bottom lip as she sinks down on me. Her cunt so warm and tight, and I can’t believe this tasty treat is my wife.
The mother of my baby.
“Greta says she got hornier the further along she got in both of her pregnancies,” Hazel says, her arms wrapped around my neck. Her full tits so fucking hot as I fuck her—er, make love to her.
I cock an eyebrow. “We’re not talking about my sister right now.”
Hazel bounces on me, and she moans in my ear. “I can’t wait to fuck you in our cabin tonight.”
I grin, squeezing her round ass. “Oh yeah, baby, why will that be different than right now?”
She laughs, her back arching as she rides the orgasm filling her perfect cunt up.
“Because,” she whimpers, “up there we don’t have any neighbors for miles and miles.” She gasps, her nails digging into my skin as she comes hard. “And here,” she sighs. “Here, I have to be quiet because people will hear.”
I grin, my cock buried deep inside her, ready to explode. I don’t tell her what I already believe to be true. Everyone on the block can hear us if they want to listen. We aren’t exactly discreet considering after I help her close up the shop most days, we leave with her hair tousled, chocolate sauce on our cheeks or sugar on our clothes.
I come, and she wraps her arms tighter around me, our baby growing in her belly, between us.
“I love you, Clive,” she whispers, holding onto me for dear life.
“I love you more, Hazel.” I kiss her nectar-flavored lips, always craving more of her.
When we walk out front, she locks up the shop. A woman tourist looks my way, and licks her lips unabashedly.
But Hazel sees the woman and grins, confident in our love. Leaning into me she says, “Too bad for her, I’m not sharing my man candy.”
“Good,” I say, squeezing her ass. “Because you’re the only woman who can satisfy my cravings.”
JOIN FRANKIE’S
MAILING LIST
AND NEVER MISS A RELEASE!
Preview
His Billion Dollar Secret Baby By Frankie Love
Chapter 1
Dane
Here I am, on the beach in Miami, soaking up the mother fucking sun. This club overlooking the ocean is banging, waitresses are walking around in string bikinis, their tits in my face and their asses hanging out. The only problem is they’re all cookie-cutter women. I want someone different.
I’m sick of the same old shit.
My friends are here, smoking their cigars, talking about their yachts, and their harem of women they've collected over the years.
I don't bother with that shit; I keep a woman for a night, no longer. I've got no interest in getting shackled. Why would I? I've seen what happens when you get a
ttached to people. In this life, there are no fucking guarantees. That's why I play hard and fuck harder.
But damn, either I’m getting old or just becoming straight-up picky. I want something different than what I see. Work is a grind, and being a billionaire CEO of a Fortune 500 company affords me a life of luxury—but what use is it when at the end of the day I’m chasing tail?
"Hell, Dane, you need to get yourself a woman. You look tense," my friend Leo says. A waitress brings me a vodka soda and I tuck a hundred-dollar bill in her bikini top. She blows me a kiss as she walks away.
"You planning on tapping that?" Leo asks.
I shrug, knowing I’m not in the mood for her tonight. I want a woman who is one of a kind.
All week, I've been around women who are tan, with fake boobs, and nice round asses. It’s no different in Manhattan. There, the women wear all-black and permanent scowls. Maybe I’m just nostalgic today—it’s the anniversary of my parents’ death, fifteen years ago. A car accident that changed everything.
My brother Thomas went off the deep end after their death. I haven’t seen him in ten years. So, yeah, today I’m feeling lonely—and my mom would hate this bullshit-vibe here.
My mom was from a different era entirely. I remember the way she wore an apron when she made dinner, her big Jackie O sunglasses on sunny days, her signature red lips. She was a classic.
I exhale, the memories getting me all lost in the past. Leo presses me again about my plans for the night.
"I want something different tonight, a different kind of woman."
Leo laughs, elbowing me, his hand motioning over the crowd, "All these women here, you could have your pick, yet you want someone different." He laughs. "You always have to make things difficult, don't you?"
I shrug again. "I don't know, maybe I'm over this Miami scene. I need to get back to New York. I haven't worked in weeks.