Wrong Side of the Tracks: a Hope Valley novel
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Wrong Side of the Tracks
a Hope Valley novel
Jessica Prince
Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Prince
www.authorjessicaprince.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
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Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of Stay With Me
More From Hope Valley
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About the Author
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HOPE VALLEY SERIES:
Out of My League
Come Back Home Again
The Best of Me
Wrong Side of the Tracks
CIVIL CORRUPTION SERIES
Corrupt
Defile
Consume
Ravage
THE PICKING UP THE PIECES SERIES:
Picking up the Pieces
Rising from the Ashes
Pushing the Boundaries
Worth the Wait
THE COLORS NOVELS:
Scattered Colors
Shrinking Violet
Love Hate Relationship
Wildflower
THE LOCKLAINE BOYS (a LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP spinoff):
Fire & Ice
Opposites Attract
Almost Perfect
THE PEMBROOKE SERIES (a WILDFLOWER spinoff):
Sweet Sunshine
Coming Full Circle
A Broken Soul
GIRL TALK SERIES:
Seducing Lola
Tempting Sophia
Enticing Daphne
Charming Fiona
STANDALONE TITLES:
One Knight Stand
Chance Encounters
Nightmares from Within
DEADLY LOVE SERIES:
Destructive
Addictive
Prologue
Gypsy
Those stunning hazel eyes stared down at me, the intensity in them penetrating the shield I kept around my heart at the same time his perfect cock stroked that place deep inside me.
It was like pouring gasoline on a fire.
Dangerous.
Explosive.
So. Incredibly. Hot.
The power behind his thrusts was scrambling my brain and making it impossible to think. All I could do was feel as he drove in and out with the perfect rhythm.
“Marco,” I moaned, throwing my head back as my body strung tighter and my nails dug into his back. God, it had never been like this.
So good. So sweet.
It was perfect.
He was perfect.
“That’s it, girasol.” The rich, husky cadence of his voice forced my eyelids open. The greenish brown of his eyes was nearly swallowed by lustful black. “Give it to me. Let me hear how much you love what I’m doing to you.”
I was about to. I could feel my release growing, building into something so powerful it scared me.
I let out one last whimper as Marco slammed in deep, grinding against my clit. That was all it took. My mouth fell open and—
The shrill buzz of my alarm clock sounded and I shot up, panting and gasping for air. A clammy sweat coated the goose bumps that covered my skin, and it took several seconds for me to get my bearings and realize it was just a dream.
“Shit,” I whispered, flopping back on my mattress as I tried to calm my frantic heart and shallow breathing. That was the third sex dream I’d had about the undeniably sexy Marco Castillo, and each one was more detailed and vivid than the last.
All it took was one word. One freaking word and a sultry look at my friend Nona’s backyard barbecue a few weeks ago, and I was done for.
On the few occasions I allowed myself to daydream, to hope, I could still feel that look from him like a physical touch. I could hear him calling me “girasol” in that smoky voice, and it never failed to elicit a shiver from me when I thought about the smooth way his tongue rolled on that r.
But it wasn’t just the word said in that beautiful accent that turned me into an achy, needy puddle of desire. It was the meaning behind it. I’d looked it up about a million times. Partly because I was hoping the more I saw it, the more desensitized I’d become, but mainly because I loved the way it made me feel. As ridiculous as it sounded, having him call me “sunflower” as opposed to “babe” or “sweetheart” or something equally innocuous made it seem like I was… special.
See? Ridiculous!
“Shit,” I repeated, then again with more passion as I kicked at the mess of tangled covers around my legs. “Shit, shit, shit.”
This was bad. So, so bad.
I couldn’t afford to let myself get hung up on Marco Castillo. A man like him wasn’t for the likes of me. And as much as I didn’t want it to, that realization depressed me. My life was all drama and baggage and constant headaches.
And speaking of my life….
The slam of a door sounded through the paper-thin walls, quickly followed by a loud pounding and my sister Sunshine shouting, “Rhodes, get outta the bathroom! I need to do my makeup!”
“No way in hell!” he yelled in return. “You’ll hog it all damn mornin’!”
As the two teenagers in the house, fifteen and seventeen respectively, both kids were infamous bathroom hogs.
Lifting my arms, I pressed the heels of my palms into my forehead, hoping to stave off the inevitable headache. I knew what was coming next. It was the same thing every freaking morning.
Like clockwork, the Sunny and Rhodes shouting match was quickly followed by a sharp squall from my youngest brother, two-year-old Raleigh.
After that, it was full-blown chaos.
My bedroom door crashed open, and my six-year-old sister Holiday stood in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and pulling off an unhappy glare at the same time.
“Morning, doodlebug,” I offered with a smile at my adorable little sister.
“Rhodes and Sunny woke the
baby again,” she grumbled, moving into the room and climbing into my bed.
Seeing as there wasn’t nearly enough room in our house, Holly was forced to bunk with Raleigh and Sunny, while Rhodes and my nine-year-old brother Raylan shared another room. So when Raleigh woke, Holly woke. And my baby sis was not a morning person.
“You got a few more minutes, honey,” I said softly, reaching up to brush her thick, shiny blonde hair from her face. “Rest your eyes, and I’ll come get you in a bit.”
And just like that, she was out like a light again.
Heading out of my room, I crossed the narrow hallway into Holly and Raleigh’s, moving to the crib to pick up my screaming brother.
“Hey, punk,” I cooed, propping him on my hip and brushing the tears from his chubby pink cheeks. “What’s all that noise about, huh?”
Wrapping his arms around my neck, he burrowed his face against my shoulder and rubbed it there, still half asleep.
“That’s it, punkin,” I whispered as his cries turned to whimpers, then stuttered breaths. A second later, he was my calm, sweet baby once again.
“Gypsy!” Raylan yelled. His tone was laced with an anger I understood the moment he added, “Rhodes ate all the Cocoa Pebbles again!” To say my brother was a finnicky eater was a massive understatement, so if we happened to run out of one of the only foods he was willing to eat, it was DEFCON 1. Luckily, I was prepared.
Brushing off the frustration I was all too familiar with, I jumped into action and headed back down the hall toward the kitchen. “Relax, little bro. I got you covered.” With Lee still perched on my hip, I used my free hand to open the cabinet where I usually kept the spices and reached to the very top shelf where I’d stashed a box of Cocoa Pebbles no one else knew about.
Raylan gave me wide eyes before twisting his lips into a pleased grin. “Sweet!”
Wrangling the Bradbury clan was like trying to herd cats. However, I had years of experience, so I was pretty damn good at it.
Our folks hadn’t been good for much other than pushing out kids and gracing them with embarrassing names, so the moment Rhodes had come into the world, the responsibility of raising him had fallen on my own eight-year-old shoulders. Sunshine came two years later, and it was the same gig. Over and over again for years.
Then something in Danny and Peggy Bradbury changed when Raleigh came into the picture. They decided they weren’t the type of people who wanted to be parents after all, and I woke up one morning to discover they’d bailed.
That had been a little over two years ago, and as far as I was concerned, it was good riddance. We didn’t need them.
Hell, I hadn’t needed them for twenty-five years, and the way I looked at it, I’d been the only parent my siblings ever had, so we’d get on fine without them.
I’d only been seventeen years old, barely into my senior year of high school when, thanks to my parents being worthless blobs who refused to work or be responsible in any way, I’d had to drop out so I could get a full-time job to care for the kids and myself. Unfortunately, there weren’t a lot of options for a girl without so much as a GED, so I’d been forced into multiple jobs that paid shit money. Shit money that our worthless folks stole whenever the need for beer or vodka came over them. And the need came often.
Without them there to mooch off me, things got a little easier. Then one day I saw an ad in the paper for a strip club two towns over. It wasn’t something I’d ever wanted to do, but to keep a roof over my kids’ heads and food in their bellies, I did what needed to be done.
I’d been a dancer two to three nights a week at Pink Palace for a year and a half now, and the headlining act for the past eight months. I hated every second of it. Pink Palace wasn’t exactly a classy joint, but it paid the bills. Barely.
To supplement my income and make sure there was enough cash for the unexpected—and there was always something unexpected—I worked as a checker at Fresh Foods, the local grocery store in Hope Valley, five days a week.
Most days it was a struggle just to keep my eyes open, and I lived off coffee and energy drinks more than was probably healthy, but this was my life, and I’d learned a long time ago that feeling sorry for myself didn’t solve my problems. All it did was waste time and make me feel miserable.
Truth was, my siblings needed all of me, so time for pity parties was out of the question. My whole life was those kids, and that was just fine with me.
With each one that came, my heart swelled bigger and bigger. Each and every one of them was mine. I’d go to the mat for them. I’d fight and bleed and die for them if that was what it took. I just wished I could give them better life than the one they had.
The shitty three-bedroom double-wide we lived in sat in the middle of a trailer park in an even shittier part of town. The place was meant for a much smaller family, and we were constantly stepping on each other’s toes, but it was the best I could do. I had to admit, I hated myself a little for that.
I wanted to give those kids everything I never had. Unfortunately, life wasn’t always fair, and good things weren’t a guarantee. Especially for a girl who’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks.
It always managed to surprise me, but just like every morning before, I somehow managed to get four kids dressed and out the door for school with their teeth brushed and bellies full.
I might not have graduated high school, but I fully intended to see to it that all my brothers and sisters did. And because of that, I insisted they fuel up with breakfast every morning so they had enough energy to make it through the day.
I had a little while of just me and Raleigh before I had to pass him off to our neighbor Odette so I could get ready for my shift at the grocery store, so we went about our morning routine. I clicked on a playlist I made just for him. Fast-paced, high-energy Top 40 songs he loved, and I spent the next hour dancing and singing loudly as I made us breakfast. As usual, Raleigh spent the whole time squealing and clapping at my antics with the biggest, happiest baby grin on his face.
That grin was all I needed to pull me out of my earlier funk. As long as the kids were happy and healthy, nothing else mattered.
So what if a man such as Marco Castillo wasn’t for the likes of me, a high school dropout stripper who lived in a trailer park? I had the love of the five most important people in the entire world, and that was more than enough for me. I didn’t need anything else.
Or at least that was what I was determined to make myself believe.
Chapter One
Gypsy
Sitting at the wooden picnic table beneath a large tree, I lifted my glass of iced tea and took a sip. The cool drink and nice shade offered a reprieve from the heat of the bright sunshine beating down.
I was enjoying a rare Saturday off, spending it at my girl Eden’s place with my family, friends, and half the town. After months of dating, her man Lincoln had finally popped the question, putting a giant diamond on Eden’s finger, and we’d all gathered to help them celebrate at the gorgeous cabin he’d built for her in the foothills of Hope Valley.
After a night at the ritzy restaurant The Groves, Eden had offhandedly mentioned how it was a dream of hers to live in a big cabin in the mountains. So Lincoln had given her one. The stunning house with its immaculate views was a testament to his love for her. And I was beyond happy that my friend had a man who’d made it clear he would give her anything and everything she could ever want.
But while I knew in my heart that no one deserved to be treated like a queen more than Eden, I couldn’t help but feel a small pang of envy knowing I’d probably never inspire that kind of devotion in a man.
As if I’d conjured her by thought, Eden appeared at my side and plunked a pitcher of margaritas onto the table before tucking in on the bench beside me. “I don’t know about you guys, but I need a drink.” She proceeded to pour five margaritas, one for herself, our friends Temperance, Nona, Rory, and one for me. Pushing my tea aside, I grabbed the margarita glass, ready for something stro
nger.
Nona gave her a pitying look. “This is a good thing, doll. Try not to stress about it.”
Eden was one of the kindest, sweetest women I’d ever met, but for years she’d kept herself so closed off from the world that being the center of attention was a struggle for her. Having all these people here for an engagement party in her and Lincoln’s honor had to be hard.
She sucked back a big gulp of her margarita before pulling in a long, calming breath. “Yeah, I know. And I’m happy, believe me.” Her eyes were drawn to the big rock glinting on her ring finger. “I’m so happy.”
“Then that’s all you need to think about,” I said, reaching over to place my hand on top of hers. “When the crowd gets to be too much, you come find us like you are now, and we’ll talk you down.”
Her big, expressive eyes were full of panic as she asked, “And on the wedding day?”
“That’s why you have us, babe,” Rory stated seriously. “And champagne. Us and champagne.”
“We’ll totally get you through it,” Temperance added. “That’s what we’re here for.”
That seemed to work like a charm. The clouds in her gaze finally lifted, and her shoulders loosened. The conversation after that was a lot less tense, and I was enjoying the time spent relaxing with my girls when my skin suddenly began to tingle with awareness.