Ink

by Michaela Scott

  *I will protect her, take care of her, and keep her safe.

  *I will make her laugh and wipe her tears away when she cries.

  *I will be the best friend, partner, and lover that anybody’s ever had.

  *I will tell everyone I know how lucky I am to have met her.

  *I will always love her.

  *I will make her happy for the rest of our lives.

  Tears well up in my eyes as I read the contract. When I walk out into the hall, Jace is there, on one knee, holding a ring in his hands.

  “Haley,” he says, “I didn’t even know what love was when I met you, and now I love you more and more every day. Will you marry me?”

  I drop the contract as the tears fall, and all I can do is nod and say yes, over and over again.

  Jace gets up and takes me into his arms.

  “I thought it was a prank,” I say.

  “Not this time,” Jace says, “This is one contract that I’m definitely going to keep. Hold on.”

  Jace goes into his room and comes back out with the fountain pen from our suite. “Since you said yes…”

  He picks up the contract, holds it against the wall, and signs his name at the bottom in permanent ink.

  “Signed, Jace Fisher, forever yours.”

  Then, he slips the pen into his pocket and we kiss like we’re never going to stop.

  I never asked for a stepbrother.

  But I’m always going to be grateful for the one I got.

  THE END

  ***

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  Excerpt From Screw You, Lover: An Enemies To Lovers Romance

  Chapter 1: Riley

  I think a rat on the subway tracks just barked at me.

  I guess that’s a pretty appropriate way to close out my one year anniversary of moving to New York.

  Dripping wet from the rain up above, I shake the excess water off my umbrella as my train comes in. Unfortunately, it’s going to be a long, long ride back to my tiny little one-bedroom apartment on the other side of town. And after that awful date I just had, I’m going to be counting every stop between me and my bed.

  The train doors open and I take the last empty seat, the details of the date replaying in my mind. This guy seemed alright, although looking back on it, I’m pretty sure I only swiped yes on him because he had an EXTREMELY cute dog in one of his photos.

  Turns out, it wasn’t his dog.

  I should have known it was going to be a terrible date when he told me that, but I still sat through an entire meal at Times Square’s most touristy seafood shack as Mr. Weirdly Baggy Blazer spent an hour telling me about the hot dog delivery startup he’s investing half his paycheck into.

  A misplaced sense of self-confidence plus a complete lack of self-awareness…that should be the bio of every Tinder guy I’ve met up here in the past six months.

  But it’s probably good that he never once got around to asking any questions about me, because if he did, I’d have to tell him about the five hundred job applications I sent in over the past month with literally no interviews. And then I’d have to tell him that the reason I don’t have a job is because the makeup startup I was doing PR for went out of business when they were caught defrauding their customers. It turns out, when people Google your last job and see your bosses getting led out of a building in handcuffs, they don’t really like the idea of being your next boss.

  So, yeah, that rat that barked at me on the tracks? Perfect way to sum up how New York’s been treating me lately. It’s almost enough to make a Southern California girl like me miss her hometown.

  Almost. Then I think about why I left, and who I left, and it’s enough to stop me from booking a plane ticket right here on the subway at the next station with WiFi.

  The train screeches to a halt, jolting everybody in their seats as half the train shuffles off and an identical-looking group of people shuffles on.

  One stop down, thirteen to go…

  ***

  Fourteen subway stops, five flights of stairs, and one barking rat later, and I’m officially lying in bed! I know I should probably change out of my Tinder dress before I just pass out on top of the covers, but that just feels like so much work…

  My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I sigh as I reach out and grab it, assuming it’s my date texting me goodnight.

  But it’s not.

  It’s him.

  Hey Groundhog,

  Having fun on your date? Are you finally going to break that dry spell you’ve been having since, shit, I can’t even remember when?

  Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but I looked up the hot dog company you told me this guy was investing in and it’s a complete shit-show. The hot dogs cost ten dollars each and when you order one they tell you it’ll be delivered next summer, once they get enough investment money to pay for the trucks. I think the CEO is either your date’s childhood friend or a family member, and this company is obviously a scam.

  So if I was you, I’d stay far away from this guy’s hot dog…but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

  UGH!

  Instantly, I sit up in bed, furiously texting Liam an angry response. I mean, sure, he’s technically right about this guy, but does he have to be such an arrogant ass about it?

  I should have known he was going to have some kind of smart-ass joke about my date. He always does. Since I moved to New York, I don’t think a week has gone by without him texting me gloating about something, shamelessly bragging, or insulting whatever I’m doing. And, obviously, I can’t just let something like that stand, so I text him back, sometimes even doing a little bragging myself.

  Not so much recently, though. Recently, he’s the one with the super trendy restaurant in downtown LA, and I’m the one who sees my resume rewriting itself over and over whenever I close my eyes.

  My nose scrunches up with rage as I type out an epic response to Liam, but as I’m putting the finishing touches on it, my phone buzzes in my hands and the screen lights up. At first, I assume it’s a follow-up from Liam, but then, my sister’s picture fills the screen, sticking her tongue out at me with her eyes shut tight behind her glasses.

  Sam’s calling me this late?

  That’s a little weird.

  “Sam?” I ask, bringing the phone up to my ear.

  “RILEYRILEYRILEYRILEY—”

  With a wince, I pull the phone away from my ear for a second. “What’s up? Is everything alright?”

  “THEY SAID YES!”

  “Okay, uh, great…who said yes? To what?”

  “TO YOU! Reopening Mom’s restaurant!”

  I freeze, trying to process what I just heard. Me? Reopening Mom’s old restaurant? In LA? Why?

  Sensing the questions filling my head, Sam keeps talking. “Your loan got approved! You’re going to get two hundred thousand dollars to start Riley’s Pizza Kitchen back up again!”

  My…loan?

  Oh. Wait a second.

  I did apply for a loan.

  A couple weeks ago, when I spent the entire weekend applying for jobs literally everywhere I could think of, I sent a loan application to my old family bank for money to reopen Riley’s Pizza Kitchen. I remember rushing through it, thinking it was such a long-shot that I wasn’t sure why I was even bothering.

  And apparently, they said yes anyway.

  “Wait, my loan? They approved my loan? SAM! This is amazing!”

  “I KNOW, you’re going to move back to LA, and we’re going to hang out ALL THE TIME, and–”

  Wait, she’s right. If I have a two hundred thousand dollar check waiting for me at my old family bank, then I’m leaving New York.

  Soon.


  “Uh, Sam, do you know anything about when I’m supposed to start?”

  “Your check’s at the bank NOW! You could get started as early as next week.”

  Looking out the window at wet, rainy New York City, I think about the barking rat, and the bad date, and the five flights of stairs I just climbed a couple of minutes ago.

  “Oh, I’m going to start sooner than that,” I whisper into the phone.

  “Awesome,” Sam says, “Let me know when your flight comes in! Until you get a place of your own, you can stay with me and Matt! Oh, man, this is going to be AMAZING! But I should probably let you go, I know it’s late.”

  Watching my entire life rewrite itself in front of me, I get ready to say goodnight to Sam. But before I do, one last thought pops into my head. “Wait, Sam, am I going to be reopening the restaurant in the exact same building?”

  “Oh, yeah, the Burrito Barn that replaced Mom’s restaurant shut down earlier this year. The building’s been empty ever since.”

  “Okay,” I say, “And what about the businesses around it? Are they all the same?”

  Sam takes a couple seconds to think. “Hmm…well, the candle shop’s still there…the tattoo parlor changed owners and changed its name, but I think that happened while you were still here…oh, yeah, and obviously, Liam’s restaurant is still on the other side of the parking lot.”

  For the first time since hearing the news, the smile leaves my face. “Oh! Huh, forgot about that. I guess we’re going to be neighbors again.”

  “Yeah,” Sam says, “And I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he finds out you’re his new competition. He’s going to flip out.”

  I let out a nervous laugh into the phone. “Definitely. Alright, Sam, I think I’m going to get some sleep. Talk to you later!”

  As I hang up and toss the phone down onto my mattress, a million emotions rush through my head at once.

  I’m going back to LA. I’m going to own my own restaurant. Riley’s Pizza Kitchen, originally named because Mom was pregnant with me when she got the loan to open it, is now actually going to be Riley’s Pizza Kitchen.

  And as that thought hits me, I tear up a little, and I look up towards Mom, promising to make her proud.

  Then, I walk up to the window, look out at the city again, and shake my head, thinking about all the terrible jobs I’m not going to have to take if I head back home.

  Sam’s right. This is going to be amazing.

  There’s only one problem, though.

  When I move back to LA, I’m going to be sharing a parking lot with the exact same person I moved out here to get away from.

  And he’s going to be my number one competition.

  Oh, yeah, there’s another little problem I just thought of, too.

  I have no idea how to run a restaurant.

  ***

  Screw You, Lover: An Enemies To Lovers Romance is available on Amazon now, and it’s FREE with Kindle Unlimited! Read the whole thing here!

  About The Author

  Michaela Scott has a thing for alpha males, billionaires, and bad boys with good hearts. It’s no wonder her female characters are always getting involved with them. When she’s not writing about messy, passionate, unlikely romances, she’s at home, spending time with her own personal alpha male and trying not to use him as inspiration.