by Sienna Ciles
Pete nodded, smiling sadly. “I was feeling so, so ashamed and guilty when the doctor told me how I ended up like this. It's just that, you know, with the news about my father's cancer, I just . . . I was falling apart, and I went out to have a drink to try forget about it, and . . .”
Lanie took his hand and squeezed it gently. “You know, everyone makes mistakes sometimes, but this one, it really wasn't your fault. You were set up and manipulated. And they are going to be brought to justice, thankfully.”
Tears welled up in Pete's eyes and he squeezed her hand back. “Thank you, Lanie,” he said. “And thank you too, Jax. Thank you for everything. I mean that man . . . I mean that.”
* * * * *
“That was quite a long call,” I said to Lanie as we walked out of the hospital just over an hour later. She had just been talking on the phone for around fifteen minutes.
“There was a lot I had to say,” she admitted, and then she suddenly smiled mysteriously. “But I'm glad I was able to make the call.”
“Well, that was a little enigmatic? Who were you talking to?”
“You'll find out soon enough. Can you drive me somewhere?”
“Uh yeah, sure. Where?”
“I'll give you directions as we go.”
“Sounds like an adventure. I’m in. Come on, let's go.”
We got into my Maserati and headed off, with Lanie giving me directions as I drove and we chatted.
“You know, Jax, you've never really told me why you're Ernest J. Cooper IV. I mean, seriously, the fourth? You sound like royalty or something.”
I chuckled. “Well, I come from old wealth and a proud family name, to be honest.”
“But I thought you said that you and Pete came out to California with nothing?”
“We did—and I didn't grow up wealthy.”
“So . . . how does this old-wealth thing fit into the story?” she asked.
“Well, my great-grandfather, the first Ernest Cooper, he was an oil man in Texas in the first days of the oil boom. He made millions, and passed it on to my grandfather, Ernest J. Cooper II. He too worked in oil, and expanded our family's wealth. My father, Ernest J. Cooper III, inherited all of this. He didn't want to work in oil though, and he thought the future was in electric vehicles. Which we now know it is—except they won't really start becoming mainstream until maybe 2030. But he was trying to do this in the early ‘80s. He took all the wealth he’d inherited and invested it into an electric car company which he believed would revolutionize transportation. He thought he was going to be another Henry Ford. But America wasn't ready for electric cars in the ‘80s, and the company went bankrupt. And thus, all the wealth of my forebears was gone. So, I was left to start from scratch—and I did.”
“And you succeeded. You're a multi-millionaire at age thirty-two, which is pretty damn impressive,” she said with a smile.
“Yes. I succeeded. Despite everything. And all those years my family was going through rough times, not once did my Aunt Cara offer to help. And now, after this whole thing, after finding out what kind of person she really is, I'm not surprised she didn't offer us a cent when times were tough. I just wish I’d seen her true colors sooner.”
We arrived at the destination Lanie had been directing me to—a nice enough suburban house.
“Whose place is this?” I asked.
“Come on,” she said. “You'll find out in a moment. Let's knock on the door.”
We walked up onto the porch and knocked. I was very, very surprised when Bill Wallace, of all people, opened the door.
“Mr. Cooper,” he said, shaking my hand, “it's a pleasure to meet you. I wanted to talk to you at my ball, but you had to leave early.”
“Yes, on account of—”
He held up a finger. “Hush, my boy. Lanie has told me all about it, all the details. And I want to help . . . I want to invest in your company, and I want to assist you in whatever ways I can in your upcoming legal battle. I'm in your corner, Mr. Cooper, I'm firmly in your corner. You don't have to worry about anything. Now, come on in and let's talk . . .”
I looked at Lanie and smiled. “You're the best,” I whispered to her. “You're just the best!”
EPILOGUE
Lanie
ELEVEN MONTHS LATER
“To jail time!” Jax exclaimed, as we raised our glasses.
“To jail time!” we all repeated in unison, clinking our glasses together and taking a drink.
“I wonder how that jerk Burton is going to enjoy prison?” Pete remarked with a smirk.
“He's got several years to figure it out,” Bill added with a wry smile. “And my old rival, Cara, she'll be under house arrest for the rest of her days. I still don't think the judge should have been so lenient with her just because of her age. But still, house arrest is better than nothing.”
Jax nodded. “It is. And once again, Bill, from the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you for helping in the matter. Without the legal team you assembled, I'm sure Cara and Chad would have found a way to get by with what they did.”
“I’m just glad justice was served, my boy,” Bill replied. “Very glad. And with them out of the way, we'll watch your company skyrocket. I’d venture to say you're on the verge of making your first billion after the success you had when the company went public a few months ago, aren't you?”
Jax nodded proudly. “We're getting there, Bill, we're getting close.”
“Well, thank you so much for dinner, Jax, but I’m going to head out. I have an early morning since Dad and I are going fishing” Pete added.
Pete’s announcement started the dominoes falling and we all made our way to the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. After saying our farewells, everyone then went their separate ways, aside from Jax and myself.
Jax looked down at me, and I could feel the heat of his love radiating into me through his stare. It was the same intense love glowing in the core of my own being.
“I love you, Lanie,” he whispered, leaning down and pressing his warm lips over mine.
“And I love you, Jax,” I replied.
He held his hand out. “Take my hand,” he offered, and I intertwined my fingers with his, squeezing. Something about the feeling of our fingers tangled together was exhilarating and comforting all at the same time. The excitement I felt when he held my hand hadn’t faded, it was almost overwhelming.
“I want you by my side, holding my hand, always. Let's step into the future,” he said, “a bright future together . . . from now until the end of our lives.”
“Let's do that,” I said. “Let's do that.”
Lost and Found
(A Bad BoyRomance)
By
Sienna Ciles
www.SiennaCiles.com
Chapter One
Bethany
When I saw the sign for the Greenleaf Diner, I knew I needed a break from driving. I needed to stop and get something in my stomach in order to finish up the trip back home. I changed lanes and turned off of the highway at the exit, fighting off the brief flurry of irritable anxiety that I was somehow going to be “late,” even though I didn’t technically have a deadline for getting into town.
I’d been planning my tactics for my homecoming for weeks--for months, even--ever since I confirmed that I would be going. It might seem silly to put so much stock into a stupid high school reunion, but I wanted to make as much of a splash as possible.
I yawned as I turned off of the highway and pulled into the parking lot for the diner. It had been years since I’d been this close to my hometown; even for holidays, my parents and I would go to my grandparents’ place, or to my aunts’ and uncles’ houses. I found a parking spot--not hard, so late at night--and turned off the engine to my car. Closing my eyes, I rested my head on the seat.
I’d worked up to the last possible moment, making sure that everything at the office was taken care of so that I would be able to hit the ground running when I got back in a few days. I’d made sure to pack
my laptop, my charger, and my work phone--just in case. If something happened at the agency, I would need to be in contact, and if I had some spare time during the trip, I planned on at least looking over paperwork and reading a few emails, so I’d be as prepared as possible when I got back.
The fact was, as pathetic as it was to admit it, I was as close as a human being could come to being addicted to work. I tried to tell myself at first that it was because I was doing something that I loved and it was because I was doing Important Work, but the truth was--as I realized a few months before the reunion announcement--that I really didn’t have anything else going on in my life.
I opened my eyes and rubbed at my face before making myself get out of the car. “A cup of coffee, and something to eat, and then I’ll get back on the road and get to the house,” I told myself, even as I locked the car up behind me and crunched on the icy-cold asphalt of the parking lot. My parents’ home would be abandoned because my parents were spending the winter in Italy, and they’d given me the keys to the house when I’d told them I was going to my high school reunion.
The door to the diner creaked on its hinges in a welcoming, homey kind of way when I opened it, and a gust of hot air, full of the scents of cooking meat, hot oil, and frying starch blew against my face. This was definitely a warmer welcome than I would have gotten at my parents’ house, and my stomach lurched in my body, reminding me that I’d started feeling hungry about thirty minutes ago.
I stepped into the diner and let the door shut behind me. The place was decorated with old, classic photos and knickknacks. At just before midnight, it wasn’t that busy; there were maybe three people seated at the tables, and a guy sitting at one end of the bar, hunched over the counter with his back to me. I spotted a couple of waitresses moving around, and the cook behind the counter, working away.
“Come on in, honey--it’s raw out there,” one of the waitresses said. I had to agree with her; it hadn’t been so cold when I’d left the city after work, but as soon as the sun had gone down, it had gotten colder and colder. According to my Prius, it was thirty-five degrees outside, and the weather forecast stated that it would get even colder, dipping below freezing overnight.
I sat at the bar and one of the waitresses brought me a menu, giving me a quick smile and telling me to take my time as she poured me a glass of water. “I definitely want a nice, big cup of coffee, if nothing else,” I told her, and she nodded.
“I’ll bring you a pot, how about that? Maybe some hot chocolate, too? On the house,” she said quickly.
I smiled up at her.
“You’re just trying to make it look like you’re not giving our Casanova here special treatment,” one of the other waitresses called out from behind the counter, where she was doing something to the register.
“No, I’m just a nice person all around,” my waitress countered. Casanova? I looked around the diner to try and figure out who they could possibly be talking about. The booth across the dining room had an old man seated at it with one of his buddies, both of them reading newspapers over cups of coffee and the remains of some kind of deep-fried feast. Clearly not them--or at least, I was pretty sure it wasn’t them. One of the other tables had a few college-age girls seated at it, and obviously it wasn’t them.
That just left the guy sitting a few seats away from me, hunched over the counter, looking down at his phone. From behind, I wouldn’t have ever called him any kind of Casanova, and even in profile I couldn’t really see the allure at first; he had dark hair combed and slicked into a weird 1950s style, and from the side, his nose looked a bit too big for his face. He was wearing heavy jeans and a thick, dark green hoodie, with worn-down, washed-out boots on his feet and a leather jacket slung over the back of his chair.
“She’s just jealous, Lucy, don’t pay her any attention,” the guy said, turning to look in our direction, speaking to my waitress.
Seeing his face, I had to admit he was handsome. His nose wasn’t as big looking at it from the front, and the lean, sharp jawline--speckled with some stubble--balanced it. He had the nicest eyebrows I’d ever seen on a guy, framing big, dark brown eyes, and a smiling, cupid’s bow mouth that had the faintest little twist at the corners like he knew the punchline to a joke he wasn’t telling anyone just yet.
“Of course I’m jealous; she got to you first,” the other waitress said.
I had to chuckle at that, and turned my attention back to the menu, listening as the two women continued to banter back and forth about the guy, with him occasionally chiming in. It took longer than I would have believed possible for me to finally decide on something to eat; my waitress brought me coffee and hot chocolate both, and I’d even taken a couple of sips, by the time I figured out what I actually wanted.
“Made up your mind?” There wasn’t any impatience in the waitress’ voice as she asked me, for which I was grateful.
“I’ll have the steak and eggs--and can I get some spinach in those? I saw you have a spinach and cheese scramble.”
“Absolutely--not a problem,” the waitress replied; I watched her scribble some notes on her pad. “Do you want pancakes or french toast with that?”
“French toast, I think,” I said.
“Good choice--the pancakes here have always been a little on the dry side,” the man at the other end of the counter said. I glanced at him and in spite of myself I felt a little rush of heat in my cheeks. Whatever charm he’d already worked on the waitresses at the diner, apparently I wasn’t immune to it, either.
While the waitresses playfully scolded the handsome stranger, I felt my phone buzzing in my purse. I took it out and checked the flashing screen to see my friend Jess’s name. I figured she was probably worried she hadn’t heard from me yet.
“Hey,” I said as soon as the line connected. “I’m fine; just got off the road to eat some dinner finally.”
“How far are you from town?”
I thought about it for a moment. “About forty minutes, maybe an hour?”
“Oh--where did you stop off at?”
“Green Leaf Diner,” I replied.
“Ah, so yeah, you’re not too far,” Jess agreed. “You ready for the whole shebang?”
“I’m just about as ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, thinking about the level of planning that I put into something as simple as a high school reunion.
“I mean, realistically, it’s not like you have to worry that much; you legitimately are one of the most successful people in our graduating class,” Jess pointed out.
“I know, I know,” I said, sighing. “I just...well, you know.”
“I know,” Jess agreed. “What about that last detail we talked about?”
I grinned wryly to myself. “The contingency? That, I had a little bit of trouble trying to arrange,” I admitted. I glanced over at the good-looking stranger still holding down the other end of the bar. “Though there’s a possibility I can take care of it before getting to town.”
“Do tell,” Jess said.
“I don’t know for sure. It’s just an idea, anyway. If I can’t stand on my own two feet and make my reputation, I shouldn’t even try, right?”
“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you shouldn’t try just because there’s no point,” Jess pointed out. “But since you’re determined to be Queen Shit of Turd Mountain, you might as well do it big.”
I laughed at that, and looking around again I saw the waitress bringing my food.
“Hey--I gotta go, but I’ll let you know when I’m home safely,” I told Jess. I ended the call quickly and set my phone down on the counter.
“Steak and spinach-egg scramble, with french toast,” Lucy said, setting it down in front of me. “Enjoy, hon.” She turned and stepped away with a polite smile and then badgered the handsome guy a little more for his attention, flirting and being coy with him. She had to be a least forty, I thought, starting in on my dinner; not that it mattered, but the guy looked closer to my age than the waitress’s.
He
was a good sport about it, though, giving as good as he got from both of the waitresses until the cook behind the counter yelled at them to focus on their side work if they weren’t serving customers. Then the man went back to staring at his phone, occasionally taking sips of his coffee or picking at a piece of pie.
I couldn’t resist the urge to talk to him. Even if I hadn’t had a plan in mind, I probably would have managed to at least pass the time of day--or technically night--while we were both sitting there. Also, the idea that had started to percolate in my mind when Jess called me was too good to pass up.
“Hey,” I said, when he took one of his breaks from his phone. He glanced at me and smiled slightly.
“Need something, princess?”
“Please don’t call me that,” I said quickly, cringing at the patronizing term of endearment.
“Well, I don’t know your name and you’re certainly dressed the part, in those Jimmy Choos,” he countered.
“I’m Bethany,” I said. I glanced down at my shoes. I hadn’t changed from when I’d left work--I’d run home and grabbed my bags and immediately headed out, so I was in one of my two really good pairs of boots, along with the outfit I’d worn into the office. I didn’t think I looked much like a princess, but he was right about the brand of the shoes--which surprised me. Good lord he’s probably gay...but that doesn’t mean he won’t go along with the plan. That might actually be even better. “What brings you into town?”
“Oh, this and that. A little research,” the guy said. “What about you, Bethany?” The way he said my name sent a little shiver down my spine. Maybe he wasn’t gay.
“I have a high school reunion this weekend.” My heart started beating faster in my chest as I thought about what I planned to work around to asking him