Copyright © 2014 by Jessica Prince
All rights reserved.
Cover Designer: Najla Qamber
Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
Editor: Hot Tree Editing
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at www.authorjessicaprince.com
Other Titles by Jessica
THE PICKING UP THE PIECES SERIES:
PICKING UP THE PIECES
RISING FROM THE ASHES
PUSHING THE BOUNDARIES
WORTH THE WAIT (COMING FEBRUARY 2015)
DEADLY LOVE TRILOGY:
DESTRUCTIVE
ADDICTIVE
OBSESSIVE (COMING EARLY 2015)
OTHER TITLES:
NIGHTMARES FROM WITHIN
To those of you who have been waiting (im)patiently for Trevor’s story.
You know who you are.
The man is mine, but I’ll still share him with you.
Acknowledgments
Find Jessica At
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Picking Up the Pieces Teaser
Rising from the Ashes Teaser
As always, first up is my wonderful husband: Thank you so much for buying every one of my books to put on your shelf. (Even the ones with the shirtless men on the cover). I couldn’t do this without your unwavering support.
To my writing buddies: Emmy, Jennifer, Erin, and Rose. I have no doubt that, without our daily texts, it would have taken me sooooooooo much longer to finish this story.
To my beta readers/a-friggin’-mazing friends: Elise, Rebecca, Shey, and Crystal. I can’t put into words how much it means to me that y’all Love Trevor and Lizzy’s story as much as I do. You’re words give me the feels. Oh the feels!!!!!
To the bloggers and readers who have given me a shot: It’s because of you that I keep writing. Thank you for giving my stories a chance.
To my amazing editor, cover artist, and formatter: Y’all. Are. Awesome!
And last, to my readers: This one is for YOU!
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[email protected]
Three Months Earlier
Emmy and Luke finally made up. Gavin and Stacia were getting married, and as soon as Jeremy and Savannah got their heads out of their asses and realized they were perfect for each other, they’d be on tap to tie the knot, as well. It appeared everyone around me was being bitten by the freaking love bug. Well, everyone but me, at least.
I should have been happy for my friends. I was happy! But I just couldn’t seem to move past the underlying jealousy that everyone was getting their happily ever after when I was stuck kissing a shit ton of frogs, desperately trying to find my own. I’d dated more in the past six months than I had in my entire life, and still…nothing. I’d done it all: speed dating, online dating, anything to try and find my soul mate. You name it. I did it. And it hadn’t been easy. Every attempt at finding love had been under the radar. I loved my friends, really, but if they knew the lengths I was going to in order to find a man, their noses would be so far in my business I’d never be able to get them out.
It was best to keep everyone in the dark until I finally found the man worthy enough to actually meet my motley crew of bat-shit-crazy friends. Only one person was aware of what I was doing, and that was only because Trevor was nosy as all hell and couldn’t mind his own damn business if his life depended on it. Fortunately, he was good at keeping his mouth shut and hadn’t ratted me out to anyone yet. Unfortunately, he’d become an ever-widening pain in my ass about the men I’d agreed to dates with.
How in the ever-loving hell I managed to become best friends with Trevor Devareau was still a mystery, but the friendship somehow managed to work…in a slightly-twisted, chaotic sort of way.
But all of that was beside the point. The point was my friends were shacking up one by one while I remained miserably unattached. Every date I went on turned out to be a failure of epic proportions, leaving me questioning why me, God on more than one occasion. Seriously, in the grand scheme of dating, the levels of shitty were as stated: bad, disastrous, catastrophic. Then there was me.
Date number five asked me if the carpet matched the drapes the minute I opened the front door—the door which miraculously slammed in his face right after that. Date number seven made sure the waiter handed the check to me when we were through with dinner, informing me that he was all about “equal rights.”
I’d actually thought date number twelve was going to be a winner. That was until we got a flat on the way home and I had to change it…by myself…in the dark…while wearing a dress as he sat in the air-conditioned cab, rolling down the window every few minutes to ask if I was almost done. I may have “accidentally” put a dent in his car with the tire iron. Not my fault, though…it totally slipped!
And those were just the least awful of the bunch. I wasn’t even going to get into the date where we had to walk out of the restaurant before the entrée was served because he wasn’t “legally allowed with one hundred feet” of one of the waitresses who worked there. He actually had the nerve to be offended when I informed him the date wouldn’t be continuing.
But at least he paid for the uneaten meal. Silver lining? I think not.
That night’s date was just as bad as all the rest—well, with the exception of Restraining Order Richard.
Walking through my front door, I dropped my keys and purse on the foyer table and released a dejected sigh. After the night I’d had, all I wanted to do was soak in a nice, warm bubble bath with a glass of wine and a good book; maybe one of my steamy romance novels.
As I made my way down the hall toward the stairs, I stripped out of my clothes—something I’d always done the minute I walked through the door from wherever it was I had been. Don’t ask me why, but for as long as I could remember, it had been a habit of mine. Walk through the door, get undressed as I head to the bedroom, and then throw on my lounge-around clothes. I was a gir
l all about comfort through and through.
“I’m taking it your date didn’t go so well.”
At the sound of Trevor’s voice, I froze. “Son of a bitch,” I grumbled as I stood with my arms in the air, my shirt pulled up around my head, giving him a glorious view of my pale-blue lace bra.
“What the hell, Trevor!” I screeched at him as I tried to untangle my shirt from my unruly hair.
“Oh, please, don’t stop undressing on my account, cher. That bra looks horribly uncomfortable. You should take it off.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. There was just something about Trevor; I was never able to stay in a bad mood when he was around. “What are you doing here?” I asked once I’d managed to cover up my girly bits.
“My cable’s out.”
My eyes scanned the living room and noticed not only was he pilfering my cable, but from the looks of it, he’d raided my fridge and pantry as well. He was currently kicked back on my sofa with his stinky boy feet propped on my coffee table, flipping between channels, and drinking my beer.
“I want my key back,” I told him as I made my way around the back of the sofa and collapsed down next to him, accepting the fact that my bubble bath would have to wait.
“And deny you the pleasure of my company whenever the mood strikes me? Never.”
I let out a snort as he wrapped his arm around my neck and pulled me to him. Resting my head on his shoulder, I kicked my feet up next to his and stared at the TV, not really paying attention to what was on the screen as I snatched the beer from his hand and chugged the rest.
“Maybe I should get a cat,” I said after a few minutes of silence between the two of us.
“Why the hell would you want to do that?”
“Because I’ve decided I’m never dating again. I’m resigning myself to a life of solitude. That means I need to start stocking up on cats and practicing my ‘get off my lawn’ speech for little children. Ooh! Maybe I should get a shotgun, too!”
“Sweet Christ,” Trevor muttered as he muted the TV and turned so we were face-to-face. “First of all, that guy you went out with tonight looked like a pedophile in his profile picture. I told you never to trust a guy with a stand-alone mustache. But did you listen to me? Nooooo. Secondly, you aren’t getting a cat. Cats blow. They’re soulless little monsters created by Satan who attack their poor, unsuspecting victims with their dragon claws for the simple pleasure of it.”
“They have souls!” I argued. “And they’re cute!”
But Trevor just continued on like he didn’t hear me. “And definitely no shotgun. You women love to use your relationships with Luke as your own personal little get-out-of-jail-free card, but that shit only works with parking tickets. You wielding a shotgun is a recipe for disaster. And I’m not down with the conjugals when you get your ass thrown in prison for shooting some Jehovah’s Witness.”
Flopping back on the couch, I crossed my arms over my chest and pouted. “I’m getting a cat.”
“You’re not getting a cat.”
“I’m totally getting a cat. And I wouldn’t want a conjugal visit with you anyway. Despite your best efforts, we’re never having sex.”
Trevor stretched out on the sofa, pulling me back into the position we’d been in just a minute ago. “I’ll break you one of these days, cher.”
“Don’t count on it.”
He placed his palm on the side of my face and pushed until my head was resting on his shoulder once again. “Just you wait; it’s gonna be epic.”
I had no doubt he was right about that. When Trevor moved to our little town, the rumor mill went into overdrive. Word of his stellar bedroom prowess spread far and wide and the women of Cloverleaf went nuts trying to get to him. But I refused to be another notch on his bedpost. Yes, the attraction between the two of us when we first met was undeniable, but as time passed things changed between us. The chemistry was pushed to the back burner as our friendship grew into something I couldn’t live without. And besides, I did have some self-respect—despite what my current dating life would lead people to believe. I wanted love, not just a good time. And to hear women around town tell it, Trevor Devareau was only ever about having a good time.
I’d take having Trevor as my best friend for years to come over a simple one-night stand any day. He was just too important for me to risk losing that.
Jesus Christ, this woman was gonna be the death of me. I’d lost track of how long I’d been chasing her around, acting the part of “best friend” just so I could get close to her. A man makes the tiny mistake of sleeping with a few willing women when he moves to a new town and people never let him forget it.
Okay, so maybe it was a little more than a few willing women, but for the love of God! I didn’t even know Lizzy then. How the fuck was I supposed to know I’d meet a fiery little redhead who would throw my world off its axis the moment I laid eyes on her? And in my defense, I hadn’t banged another chick since I realized Lizzy was it for me. But did the females in my life pay attention to that little detail? Hell no, they still loved to ride my shit about being a man-whore. And it didn’t help matters that women never forgot a goddamned thing. I couldn’t go out in this town without my past rearing its ugly head and biting me in the ass.
I was running out of ways to convince Lizzy I was a changed man. And her recent quest to find Mr. Right was turning into a gigantic pain in my ass! I could only sabotage so many dates before she started getting suspicious. Luckily, the douchebags she’d gone out with so far hadn’t questioned my motives for getting in touch with them before their dates. And they took every little piece of “advice” I bestowed upon them like it was gospel. Fucking morons. If a man actually believes a woman would prefer to pay the tab or change a goddamned tire all on her own, it was his own damn fault the date was a failure, not mine. It wasn’t my fault these dudes where born with an extra helping of dumbass.
But not all blame could be shoveled at yours truly. I didn’t purposely sabotage all of her dates; some of those guys were just stupid fuckers who deserved what they got. They were shining examples that sometimes it’s best for a woman to just swallow. Cloverleaf was full of mouth-breathing nut sacks who were giant wastes of perfectly-good air.
Honestly, I was doing Lizzy a favor.
Now, if I could just figure out a way to get her to see I was her best option—her only option—all would be right in the world.
I needed a fucking miracle.
Present
Anyone who ever said miracles didn’t exist could go right ahead and blow me. I was in the middle of experiencing the best miracle that ever was.
“We’re going to Vegas!” Lizzy shrieked at me as she wrapped her arms around my neck and squished those perfect tits against my chest.
Hell yeah, we were. And I was going to use this weekend to my fullest advantage. Operation Get-Lizzy-to-fall-in-love-with-me was a go. Shit, I needed to come up with a better name for that. If I said that out loud I’d look like a pussy.
“Where are you sitting?” Lizzy asked as she looked at the seat assignment on her ticket.
“14 A.”
Her bottom lip stuck out in a little pout and I had to keep myself for leaning in to suck on it. “I’m in 16 B. Looks like we aren’t sitting together.”
Before I could respond, Brett walked over and threw his arm around Lizzy’s shoulder. Must not beat friend to death with his own arm. Must not beat friend to death with his own arm. “Don’t worry, babe; I’m 16 A. I’ll be your seat buddy.”
Over my dead fucking body.
“I can switch with you,” I offered Brett, hoping he could read the silent message I was sending him with my eyes.”
“Nah, it’s all good.” He paused then asked, “You got something in your eyes, man? They’re all bugged out.”
I blinked, trying to look a little less crazy, and told him, “Seriously, I don’t mind switching.” Get the message, dickhead.
“It’s okay, Trevor,” Lizzy said as she reached out
and touched me affectionately. Her hand on my arm shot sparks through my skin. That’s what happened every time I touched that girl. God, I had it bad. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and be seated next to a hot chick,” she told me with a laugh before walking away to join the rest of the girls as they gushed over Savannah’s new engagement ring. I had to hand it to him; Jeremy did good with that one. Much better than the piece of shit Gavin had planned to propose to Stacia with. Thank Christ the girls stepped in there and helped the brother out. I was pretty sure those two wouldn’t be newlyweds at this very moment if he’d proposed with that disaster of a ring.
When Lizzy was out of ear-shot, I turned back to Brett. “Switch seats with me, fucker.”
His brows tipped down in confusion for just a second before a shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Oh, shit. You’ve got it bad, dude,” he chuckled, stating the obvious.
“Switch seats with me or I’ll kill you.”
His head tipped back as he barked out a laugh. “And miss watching you squirm? Hell no. This is gonna be too much fun.”
I was just about to put my fist down his throat when Lizzy walked back over and interrupted me. “We’re about to board. Come on, seat buddy.” Her arm hooked through Brett’s and I stood there like an ass as she led him away. When he turned back around and shot me a wink over his shoulder, I decided God obviously no longer wanted Brett to live.
It took some serious finagling on my part, but I managed to squeeze right in front of Brett as we stepped on to the plane. When I made it just past row 14, I turned to look at my ex-friend.
“What?” he asked suspiciously.
Then I punched him in the junk.
Not hard…I wasn’t that much of a bastard. Just hard enough to make him keel over so I could shove him in seat 14A.
“Ah! You mother fucker. You’re gonna pay for that,” he groaned as he held on to his balls, but I just kept moving back to row 16.
“Where’s Brett?” Lizzy asked, looking over the seat in front of her.
“Decided he wanted to switch seats after all.”
Pushing the Boundaries (Picking up the Pieces #3) Page 1