From the moment Jules told me, the day before we left for Hawaii, I’d been on cloud nine. It was better than making a million, better than anything.
“Thanks,” she said from the sofa in the common area of our suite.
“Want anything else?”
She shook her head and curled into the corner, patting the cushion next to her.
That’s right, I obliged.
“Having a good time?” I asked, taking her foot in my hand.
“Mmm,” melted from her mouth. “Not as good as you. Snorkeling, kayaking, water slides, buying Darla big smoothies in those fake pineapple cups. I’d say you’re having the most fun.”
“You won at tennis today,” I said, trying to console her.
She giggled. “Because you let me.”
“No way.”
“Drew, you did. You barely made a forehand.”
“I just like watching you run around with these new tits.” This earned me a pinch on the arm. “Breasts, new and improved breasts,” I said, correcting myself.
“Seriously, you have a one-track mind.” Her eyes sparkled almost as much as the water in the glass.
“It’s like a switch in me. As soon as Darla is quiet, I crave you.”
Jules didn’t respond, only set her drink down, leaned forward, and pressed her lips to mine. “Me too.”
“Before I have my way with you, how about running into Hilary and Stacia today? Wasn’t that a blast from the past? Guess we’re in the hot place to be at Christmas. You sure you can handle that? All the attention?” I tickled her side. “How they practically jumped out of their lily-white skin when they caught us kissing by the pool?”
“Uh, it was a bit embarrassing. Especially when they saw Darla and said, ‘You’re not Lamar’s baby.’”
My lips glided over hers. “I can’t believe they thought that all these years. She’s mine, all mine. And you.”
“And thank God you’re mine. Not sure I could put up with those lawyer sticks-in-the-muds they ended up with. Didn’t they feel so Stepford wife-y to you?”
I chuckled into her ear. “No one could accuse you of being Stepford wife-y for sure.”
“I know we were never that close, but still. They seemed too plastic and perfect.”
“Not my type. I like all fire and brimstone.”
She slapped my bicep. “Cut it out. Seriously, they were aghast and then they started with all the He did always favor you and We should have known. It was so embarrassing.”
“I could have really embarrassed you and them . . .”
“Pretty sure you did that when you stuck your naughty tongue in my mouth poolside.”
I pushed her hair away from her face and held her still, her cheeks in my hands. “Who cares? I love you so much, Jules King.”
Her nose rubbed against mine. “Right back at you, Coach King.”
“Who’s naughty now?”
I didn’t allow her to answer. I couldn’t wait to have my way with her.
Jules
“Hey, Mom, I’m home,” echoed through the house.
“Carla’s here,” James yelled from the downstairs TV room.
“She’s going to kill you if you keep up that stupid name game,” I hollered back to him.
“Hey, loser, I see you’re doing what your loser-ish self always does. Video games.” Darla chuckled as she made her way into the TV room.
I watched silently from the top of the stairs.
“I’ll have you know, Marla, I met a gamer girl who digs me and my video games. We’re playing right now.”
“What do you know about girls? You’re thirteen.”
I made my way down and sat on the bottom step, leaning against the wall as I listened to my two kids bicker. It was heaven to me. Having them both home was like winning a singles match.
Or having sex in peace, which didn’t happen often, but fast, messy sex was good too.
I wasn’t sure it was always so peaceful for them. Poor Darla, having a brother eight years younger. He couldn’t say Darla when he was a toddler. It started out as “Arla,” but when he got older, he’d add any combination of consonants to it but D.
“I have an older sister named Starla, so I know a lot about girls,” he shot back.
“How you doing, tough guy?” Darla bent over and ruffled the top of his dark blond bed head.
Summer vacation had just started for James, and I’d been counting the minutes for Darla to come home for a few weeks. She’d just finished her junior year and her third season playing tennis at the University of Miami. She could have gone on the national circuit, but becoming a marine veterinarian took precedence. She got the big D-1 scholarship, and after that was set to devote herself to the health of dolphins and turtles and Lord knew what else. Not the type of doctor I’d told her she could be when she was little, but even more impressive in our minds. I credit most of her achievements to Drew constantly telling her she could do anything.
“Pretty good. Made honor roll.”
“Good. Should do it every semester, little bro. What about swimming?”
I chuckled at that. Darla had been his second mother since he was born, doting on him, seeing to his every need, pushing him to be the best.
“Swimming for the team at Rocky Brook this summer. Getting ready for eighth grade.”
“You’ve got to be the best to swim in high school. This is Florida, so don’t let up.”
“Yeah, yeah. Can I unpause my game now?”
“Yep. Where’s Mom?”
“Right here.” I sneaked out from the corner where I’d been eavesdropping.
We still lived in the coastal house. I could never leave it. We’d remodeled and added two additions, but it was home. I was going to die here, no matter what Drew said.
“Hey, Mom!” Darla squeezed me tight.
“Hey, baby girl.” I shoved the hair out of her face. She wore her strawberry-blond locks down, wispy strips flying all around her face.
“Leave it, Mom. It doesn’t bother me. Do you like it flat ironed?” She tugged on my loose bun, setting my waves free. “I see you don’t mind throwing caution to the wind either,” she said as she tousled my hair.
“Ha. Where’s your stuff?”
“It’s in the car. I didn’t bring it in yet because . . . well, there’s one thing I didn’t mention.”
I froze. “What, Darla?”
My mind went through five billion scenarios in thirty seconds. Yes, Darla was smart and a talented tennis player, but she wasn’t without fault. There’d been a sea turtle in our saltwater pool for a week, a litter of puppies living in our garage, and a major blowout party her senior year when Drew and I had gone home for my mother’s funeral.
“I brought someone home with me.”
“Darla, that’s fine. You know you’re always welcome to have company, even if it’s a boy. I’m not naive.”
“But I am,” James called out, and I shushed him.
Darla fidgeted, not meeting my eyes. “Well, it’s a boy, but there are some extenuating circumstances. Can we go into the kitchen?”
“Don’t mind me,” James piped in again.
“Mom?”
“Come on.”
Part of me wished Drew were home. He’d been much better over the years at dealing with Darla’s antics. He was so patient, always making up for lost time.
“What is it?” I asked as soon as we were seated at the kitchen island, pots and pans dangling from the rack above.
“It sort of has to stay on the DL, and I know you’ll understand.”
“Just spit it out, Darla.”
“I’m dating this guy—”
“That’s pretty normal for your age, I think.”
“Mom, stop interrupting. Actually, I’m crazy for this guy, and he’s nuts for me.”
“Great. I can’t wait to meet him. What the heck is he doing out there?”
“Well, I don’t think you should be alarmed by this. Especially you. He’s my coach.”
My tongue went dry and my throat hoarse.
“Mom, you know you can’t start.”
I nodded, casting about furiously for something to say. “Um, are you sure? You’re risking a lot. He’s risking a lot.”
“He was thinking if he had yours and Dad’s approval, he would look for a job at a private club. We could live together, and he could coach me on the side.”
“Oh God, Dar. This is too much.” I pulled her in for a hug. “Let’s meet the guy to begin with. And for the record, I’m not starting, but thank God your dad’s at work, because he’s gonna start.”
“So, can Aaron come inside?”
I should have known Aaron Brown was going to be a problem the moment I saw his young ass strut onto the court. His arrival made a splash at U of Miami during Darla’s sophomore year, him being all tall, lean, tanned, and dark-headed. Every girl on the team was batting their eyelashes at him, charmed by his Southern twang. Of course, only my daughter turned out to be his darling.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this, baby girl?”
“I’m so sure, but is there any chance Dad has a business trip or something coming up?”
“No chance. In fact, in about an hour or two, poor Aaron will hear ‘No one is good enough for my superstar.’”
Thank you to my family. After eight books, you still put up with my frantic pre- and post-release frenzies, love me, adore me, and feed me. I love you more than I can ever put into words, and that says it all.
This includes my Electric Readers. You’re family. I can’t imagine a day without waking up and going to sleep with you.
To Pam Berehulke, my editor, friend, and trusted confidante. I’m sure this story gave you many gray hairs. Originally, I said, “It’s only a novella,” and then I changed my mind. Thanks, Pammy, for rolling with it. Love you hard!
As always, Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations took whatever was in my head and put it on a cover. I’m forever indebted.
To Nicole, my trusted PA. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t be a better me. :) Ha! You are who makes my whole world tick.
To Queen V, my very first friend in the book world. I am so happy to see your book services business grow, and proud that you proofread this book baby.
To my early readers, Jennifer D and Terilyn S, you’re the secret sauce. Thank you for all you do every day on the battlefield.
A special thanks to Robin B and Jennifer W for lending advice, constructive criticism, and making me cry once or twice with every book.
To Eric Battershell and Burton Hughes, thank you for the gorgeous photograph. Mostly thanks to Burton’s lovely wife, Kaitlin, who supports our industry without bounds.
Lisa Schilling Hintz, there are no words. None. It took me a while, but I found a partner in crime in releasing books. Thank you to you and all of the TRSOR peeps.
It’s impossible to thank every author friend and not leave someone out. There are many of you who are new, and even more who are old. I love you all. Without you, it would be a lonely life.
And to the heartbeat of the indie book world—the bloggers. You, you, and you make it all happen. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Rachel Blaufeld is a bestselling author of Romantic Suspense, New Adult, Coming-of-Age Romance, and Sports Romance. A recent poll of her readers described her as insightful, generous, articulate, and spunky. Originally a social worker, Rachel creates broken yet redeeming characters. She’s been known to turn up the angst like cranking up the heat in the dead of winter.
A devout coffee drinker and doughnut eater, Rachel spends way too many hours in local coffee shops, downing the aforementioned goodies while she plots her ideas. Her tales may all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but end as lusciously as her treats.
As a side note, Blaufeld, also a long-time blogger and an advocate of woman-run anything, is fearless about sharing her opinion. She captured the ears of stay-at-home and working moms on her blog, BacknGrooveMom, chronicling her adventures in parenting tweens and running a business, often at the same time. To her, work/life/family balance is an urban legend, but she does her best.
Rachel has also blogged for The Huffington Post and Modern Mom. Most recently, her insights can be found in USA TODAY, where she shares conversations at “In Bed with a Romance Author” and reading recommendations over at “Happy Ever After.”
Rachel lives around the corner from her childhood home in Pennsylvania with her family and two beagles. Her obsessions include running, coffee, basketball, icing-filled doughnuts, antiheroes, and mighty fine epilogues.
When she isn’t writing, she can be found courtside, tweeting about hoops as her son plays, or walking around the house wearing earplugs while her other son, the drummer, bangs away.
To connect with Rachel, she’s most active in her private reading group, The Electric Readers, where she shares insider information and intimate conversation with her readers:
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If you liked this book, feel free to leave a review where you bought it or on Goodreads. Send me an e-mail when you do, and I will thank you personally!
Break Point
Copyright © 2016-2017 Rachel Blaufeld
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-0-9970707-4-3
Edited by
Pam Berehulke
www.bulletproofediting.com
Proofread by
Virginia Tesi Carey
Cover design by
© Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations, LLC
www.okaycreations.com
Cover Image
Eric Battershell Photography
Cover Model
Burton Hughes
Interior design and formatting by:
www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com
Kindle Edition
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Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Warning:
Content contains explicit sexual content and crude language, and is intended for mature audiences. Parental/reader discretion advised.
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