by Kaylee Ryan
Unexpected Odds
Kaylee Ryan
Contents
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
Epilogue
Epilogue
Thank you
More from Kaylee
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2020 Kaylee Ryan
All Rights Reserved.
This book may not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of Kaylee Ryan, except for the use of brief quotations in articles and or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, locations, businesses and plot are products of the author’s imagination and meant to be used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events throughout the story are purely coincidental. The author acknowledges trademark owners and trademarked status of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks are not authorized, sponsored or associated by or with the trademark owners.
The following story contains sexual situations and strong language. It is intended for adult readers.
Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Cover Photography: Wander Aguiar
Model: Jonny James
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Proofreading: Deaton Author Services
Formatting: Integrity Formatting
Prologue
Kent
Tilting my beer to my lips, I peer over the bottle at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes after eleven. I’m late. Hell, I’m beyond late. I was supposed to meet her at seven. She goes back to school tomorrow, and this is our last night together. I told her I would be there, but instead, I’m here, sitting at Bottom’s Up, having a few beers with the guys. All of them none the wiser that I’m supposed to be meeting my… regular hookup? She’s not my girlfriend; we don’t label what we are.
Not really.
This thing between us has been going on for over two years now. She was home from college break, her and a group of friends were here at Bottom’s Up having a few beers, we hit it off, I took her home. She stayed. We ended up spending the weekend in bed, and she went back to school. She came home for spring break and I ran into her at the gas station of all places. We hooked up while she was here, then she went back to school.
You get the idea. That’s how things have been between us for the last two years. That is until this summer. The last few weeks specifically. It’s starting to feel like… more. Fuck me, but I know it’s more, and instead of facing these feelings head-on, I’m drinking with the guys, and I know without a doubt she’s there waiting for me. I was supposed to meet her at a bed and breakfast a few towns over. I was dressed, ready to go and dreading this being the last time I see her until Christmas break. My heart was racing and my palms were sweating because I know, I know what she means to me. I’m just too afraid to admit it. Ridge called as soon as I was walking out the door, said the guys were getting together tonight for a few beers. They don’t know about her, and it gave me an excuse to delay saying goodbye to her.
I don’t want to say goodbye.
My gut twists when I think about not seeing her for months. I don’t know why this time is different, but it’s more, and I don’t do more. At least I haven’t. Me being here proved her mother right. I’m no good for her. She deserves better—that’s what she tells her. We’ve been sneaking around so she doesn’t have to hear that shit. Then again, I haven’t told anyone about her, so again, maybe her mom is right. She’s not a dirty little secret and shouldn’t be treated as such.
“What’s up with you?” Mark asks.
“Nothing. Just tired.” I hide the truth.
“You’ve been helping your dad a lot lately,” Tyler comments.
“Yeah, he’s been cleaning out the old barn.” It’s not a lie. Dad has been cleaning out the old barn this summer, and I’ve helped him a time or two when he needed it, but those other times, I was with her.
“What’s he going to do with that old thing?” Tyler asks.
“Mom’s trying to talk him into turning it into a venue, you know, for weddings and stuff like that.”
Ridge chuckles. “You think she’ll get her way?”
“Nah, my guess is that Dad’s going to turn it into an art studio for her. She loves to paint, and if you were to add some windows to the back, the view is the perfect backdrop. I’ve heard Mom tell us that a thousand times.”
My parents had a horse; Harry was his name. He was a Tennessee Walking Horse and Mom’s baby. He passed about a year ago, and they’ve decided no more horses, or animals at all in fact. They want to travel. So Dad’s been selling off the tack and tearing out the stalls. He doesn’t have to tell me that he’s making it a special place for her, that’s just Dad. That’s who he is. Mom is the love of his life, and there is no limit to what he’ll do to see her smile.
“She’s going to love that.” This from Tyler.
“Yeah.” I finish off my beer, pull a twenty out of my wallet, and place it on the table. “I’m going to head home. I told him I would be by early in the morning to help.” That’s not a lie. I’ve made her wait long enough, and I’m an asshole for it. I should have owned up and gone straight to her. Told her how I feel about her, and that this feels like more. Maybe we can try being official?
“You need us?” Mark offers.
“Sure, you know the way. I’m going to get there around nine.” Her flight leaves at eight. I mentally calculate how much time I wasted tonight and hate myself for it. “Stop by whenever.” With that, I’m out the door. Before I’ve even made it to my truck, I try calling her, but it goes to voice mail.
“Hey, it’s me. I know I’m late. I’m on my way.” I toss my phone in the cup holder and point the truck to the outskirts of town. She said she wanted to talk to me, her tone said it was serious, but I already know what she was going to say. She’s in deep. We both are. Only difference is I’m too big of a coward to admit it. At least I was about four hours ago. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but then again, maybe it’s just her and the thought of her not being mine. I’m going to grovel and tell her how I feel. It’s time to face this like a man, treat her like she deserves to be treated. I was raised better, and my momma would kick my ass if she knew what I did tonight.
I make it to the B&B but don’t see her car. I call her again. No answer. Trudging inside, I ask if she checked in. I listen as the clerk tells me that she was here, but she left a few hours later. I give a curt nod and head back to my truck.
I try calling her again, and again, and again. I’d go to her place, but her parents don’t approve of me. I’m too “small town” for their liking. Hell, they live in the same damn small town, but I’m not good enough for their daughter. Part of me thinks that’s why I haven’t told her what she means to me, but that’s just a small part. If I’m being honest, there is always this worry in the back of my mind that she’s going to wake up and realize she’s had her fun with me, and this is all going to end. I can’t see her parents ever approving of me with my blue-
collar job and my inked-up skin. Back then, I only had a few tattoos. If her mom could see me now, I can only imagine what she would think. I see the disapproval in their eyes the handful of times I’ve met them. She’s never given me any reason to think otherwise, but there’s the lingering doubt that has kept my walls in place.
Until this summer.
I call her again. This time, I leave another message. “Hey, it’s me. I’m sorry I was late. I’m here, but the B&B said you checked out. I’ll be up for a few hours. You can come over, or I’ll meet you. Just… call me.” Another round of guilt hits me. If I was honest to my friends about her, if they knew what she meant to me, I wouldn’t be here right now. I would be with her in my arms where she belongs. Instead, I kept her from them, and I know damn well they would be up my ass about standing her up. I’ve learned my lesson. I just need to find her. To tell her I’m sorry and I’ll shout it to the world.
I drive past her parents’ place, and sure enough, her little white Volkswagen sits out front. It takes herculean effort to not pull into her drive, but I hold strong and drive on past, headed home.
I call her again when I get into the house, but I know it’s no use. She’s pissed. As she should be. I’ll call her in the morning. I’m a dick. I hate that I won’t get to see her before she leaves, but I only have myself to blame. Somehow, I’m going to make this right. I can’t wait until winter break. It’s not something I want to do over the phone, but that’s the only option since my dumb ass might have fucked up the best thing to ever happen to me.
It’s time to man up and tell her how I feel.
It’s time I admit to her, and to myself, that I’m in love with her.
Chapter 1
Delaney
I’ve checked my list a million times to make sure I have everything. This is the first time I’ve traveled alone, and I’m both excited and nervous. I’m an adult, so you’d think something as simple as a plane ride from California to Tennessee wouldn’t be an issue. Well, you’d be wrong, at least when it comes to me.
“You all packed?” my mother asks from my doorway.
Yes, I still live with my parents, well, my mom. We lost my dad three years ago to a heart attack. It was hard for both of us, in different ways, and even though I could move out, I’m still here. I hate the thought of leaving her alone. Besides, she’s done so much for me. Been there for me when there was no one else.
“Yes.” I hold up my list that’s been checked off multiple times.
Mom chuckles. “You never used to be a list maker. I’m glad you’ve found a process that helps you.”
I hold up my notepad and close the cover, sliding it into my purse. “Never leave home without it.”
“You know, the iPad I bought you would be so much more efficient than all those paper lists.” She furrows her brow. She can’t grasp that I prefer putting pen to paper. “I mean, aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be afraid of technology?”
“I’m not afraid of technology, Mother.” I hold up my e-reader as proof. “I just prefer the paper method. There is just something about being able to mark items off a list and then tossing it in the trash once it’s complete.”
“To each their own, I guess.” She sighs heavily. “I still don’t understand why you insist on going. I hate that town, and that house for that matter.”
“Because Grandma and Grandpa left it to Dad, who left it to me, and it’s only right I’m there to oversee the renovations. And you never have told me why you hate the house, and the town so much.”
“Small town living isn’t for me. The house, it’s too… I don’t know… I just was never fond of it. And I still can’t believe your father left it to you. I tried to get him to sell years ago.”
“Because Grandma and Grandpa owned it? Is that why you never liked it?” I ask, even though I know I’m right. She never really got along well with my father’s parents. They passed away when I was in high school, and as soon as I graduated, Dad was able to somehow convince Mom to move. It didn’t last long.
“They always looked at me as being beneath them.” I raise my eyebrows in surprise at her words. “You’ll never know how that feels until you experience it for yourself. To know the family of the man you love thinks you’re not good enough. It’s tragic,” she says dramatically—in a way that only my mother can.
“You hardly seem traumatized.”
“You don’t know,” she says, giving me a pointed look.
I hate it when she does that. Always dropping reminders. “Well, I didn’t expect for the renovators to start this week, but it’s worked out. You’re coming this weekend, right? I scheduled your flight.”
“And where are we staying?” She sighs. She’s acting as if the world is coming to an end.
“At the house of course.”
“What? Why would we do that? There used to be a decent hotel. Surely we can stay there.”
“Mother, why would we? Grandma and Grandpa’s house is huge. There’s plenty of room for us to stay there.”
“During renovations?” she asks, appalled.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we do the same thing here after Dad died? You went through some kind of ‘must change my surroundings’ thing. We survived and this house isn’t half the size as theirs.”
She rolls her eyes. We both know I’m right. We lost Grandma and Grandpa within a few months of each other. I swear Gramps’s heart was broken without Grams and that’s why we lost him. I’m a romantic at heart, and I probably read way too many romance novels, but that’s what I like to believe.
“Fine.”
“Perfect. Now I need to do one last check that I have everything, then head out so I don’t miss my flight.”
“Delaney,” my mom whispers. I look up to find her wringing her hands together and what looks like dread on her face. “Those people in that town, they never liked me. Just… stay away from them, all right? Do what you need to do with the attorney and the construction crew and just… lay low. I don’t want you having to deal with what I did.”
“Mom, you’re paranoid. Everything is going to be fine. Besides, that was years ago and since when has it been the ‘people’ in town? You just said it was Grandma and Grandpa?”
“It’s everything. Just promise me. Hang out at the house, and don’t—” She stops as if she’s trying to find the right words. “Just… don’t venture out alone. At least wait until I arrive on Thursday”
“You know you could come with me now.”
“Oh, and miss bridge with the ladies next week? I couldn’t. Besides, Martha is having a knee replacement, and we’re not going to be playing for the next several weeks. This is my last chance to see them all together until we pick back up.”
I fight the urge—and it’s a strong one—to roll my eyes. Heaven forbid something more important than hanging out with the ladies to play bridge comes up in her life. However, it works out for other reasons as well, so I can’t be too upset with her. “Fine. I’ll see you on Thursday” I lean in and give her a hug. Grabbing my suitcase, I exit the room. I need to see the girls and then bust ass to the airport.
By the time the plane lands, I’ve managed to calm my nerves. I don’t know why traveling by myself has me so worked up. It’s not like I’ve never flown before. I think it’s Mom and all her “the people of that town are mean, blah blah blah.” I’m paraphrasing but it’s the same concept. She has me freaked out for nothing. Everyone has been friendly on this little adventure. Case in point: I’m waiting on my rental car, and I’ve been asked no less than three times if I’d like something to drink. Mom had me thinking the worst… like everyone in the state of Tennessee are assholes. That’s simply not the case. And some of them, they have these Southern accents that I could listen to all day. As I sit and wait for my rental, I pull the letter out of my purse that Dad’s attorney gave to me, along with the deed to my grandparents’ estate.
Delaney,
Their hope was to always keep this property i
n the family. The decision is yours. I won’t make it for you. My one request is that you go spend some time there. Enjoy the town and the people before you decide.
Forever in my heart.
Dad
Folding the letter, I slide it back into my purse. I don’t know why he felt so strongly about me visiting, but it’s a small concession as a last request. I swallow hard, fighting back my tears. I miss him so much.
“Ma’am.” A young guy who doesn’t look a day over eighteen approaches me. “We have your SUV ready for you. Can I take your bags?”
“That’s not necessary.” I give him a kind smile. “Thank you.” Standing from my chair, I follow along.
He nods. “It’s the black Dodge Durango.” He points to where the SUV sits.
“Thank you.” Wheeled baggage in hand, I make my way to the car. After tossing my bag into the back seat, I take my time adjusting the driver’s seat and the mirrors. Ever since my accident, I’ve been extra cautious when driving. If my mother had her say, I’d never drive again. You can’t live your life in fear. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. Punching the address into the SUV’s GPS, my hands at ten and two, I head toward my destination.
First impression? Tennessee is beautiful. With all the mountains and the trees, how could anyone hate it here? A quick glance at the dash tells me I’m close. Just one more mile. My hands flex on the steering wheel from my tight grip, my nerves getting the best of me—well, my mother’s nerves.