Salvaged Hearts (No Longer Broken Duet Book 2)

by Lilly Wilde

  “Yeah, who would have predicted that two kids who had such fucked-up beginnings would have the lives we have now? Hugely successful and finally happy. The only thing left is snagging a husband for you.”

  “I’m not ready for anything like that. I’ve told you that like a billion times already.”

  “Yeah, because you’re still holding out hope for The Man on Fire,” he air quotes.

  “Shut up, Noah. Am not.”

  “Are too. Every single time you mention that guy’s name your voice goes all dreamy. I’ll admit he’s hot as hell but players like him don’t settle down, Ragan.”

  A player wouldn’t have done all the things Branch has done for me. Would he? “Noah, just hush and keep packing. My Uber’s here. Tell Greyson I said hello and I can’t wait to see him.”

  “I’ll just bet you can’t, stalker. Stay away from his Instagram.”

  “He shouldn’t be so pretty.”

  “Am I going to have to fight you for my man?”

  “Maybe. Or at least share him until I find one of my own.”

  “Once we get the gallery going, our next line of business is getting you laid.”

  “You are the silliest thing. Bye, Noah.”

  He lets out a chuckle. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I’m the first to arrive at Standings…no surprise there. I glance toward the bar and catch the eye of my favorite bartender Brinkley, and she gestures for me to grab the booth that’s been secretly reserved for us. By reserved, I mean, Brinkley asked a group of her friends to occupy the space until I could get here. I slip her the normal reservation fee and order beers for the seven of us. I figure the beers will arrive around the same time as my straggling workmates.

  The excitement for the game penetrates every molecule of air in the bar. Scanning the crowd of sports fans, I smile at the flurry of red, gray, and white caps, the shirts, hoodies and jerseys. Mine boasts Branch’s number—ten.

  The table nearest me is a rowdy group of guys, and they’re going on and on about who’ll win. I didn’t wager on the outcome of the game, but if I had, all my money would be on the Redhorns.

  I’m so giddy about seeing Branch—even if it’s just on television. We’ve stayed in touch to a certain degree. Well…sort of. It’s been a text here or there and a few short phone calls but that’s about it. I haven’t seen him face-to-face since the day I said goodbye…just as I suspected I wouldn’t. So me being me, I’ve tried to catch all of his TV appearances as well as any magazines and online articles that I can find. Hmm. Maybe Noah’s right…I am a stalker.

  About twenty minutes pass before my work crew comes strolling toward the booth, all wearing their Redhorns jerseys.

  I grin at them. “Guess those four reminders paid off. You guys look great. Could totally pass for real football fans.”

  “What makes you think we aren’t?” Jax asks.

  “You and Andrés, sure. But Erin, Autumn, and Kale…no way.”

  “Your beers,” Brinkley says stepping up to the booth with a tray. “The chips, queso, and hot wings are on the house,” she adds as she places everything on the table then slides in beside me.

  I take in her change of clothes and smile. “You’re wearing your Redhorns jersey! Yay! And thanks for holding the booth,” I shout over the noise.

  “I had to extend my shift to get away with it this time, but no biggie.”

  Brinkley was one of the first people I met outside of the gallery staff when I first moved here. Andrés and his wife Eva absolutely adore CeeCee, so from time to time, they take her for overnights which gives me time to explore the city. And sometimes, I simply want to do that alone.

  I’d wandered into Standings one evening when a Redhorns game was on. Brinkley was working the bar that night, and in typical bartender fashion she got me talking about what ailed me. As we watched the game, she mentioned how hot Branch was and when she noticed my reaction, that was all it took. I gabbed on and on about growing up in the same town with him. Soon after that night, she fast became my New York version of Hayley, only much less weird.

  It’s crazy loud in the bar. Mix that with liquor, and it’s bound to get even louder. When everyone within my proximity begins tossing out their fantasy football picks, I tune out their voices and strain to hear the guys behind me debate the hype that surrounds Branch McGuire. I inwardly smile, thinking how amazing it feels to have intimate knowledge about the guy who others perceive as larger than life. To know the man behind the jersey—yeah, it’s pretty freaking awesome.

  After a hilarious Doritos commercial, the opening ceremony begins with the commentators discussing the starting lineup. And it all begins with Branch McGuire. With so much noise, I only catch bits and pieces from the sports correspondent.

  …one of the top quarterbacks in the country, first in the nation in completion percentage.

  Oh, God. I wish they’d pipe it down. And then as if they all heard my inward cry, the noise levels out just enough and I focus on the next sportscaster.

  Not only does he have sensational throws, but he’s been doing it with his legs throughout the season as well, which has added another dimension to the Dallas offense.

  He’s earned the coaches respect and confidence that they can call any play anywhere on the field.

  After brief player intros, they proceed to the coin toss, then the game starts. Both teams hold their own for the first three quarters. Contradictory to what’s been floating around the last couple of weeks, it’s a tight game. Not at all what was predicted, and the camera flashes to Branch more than it does any other player. He looks irritated. And he’s caught reprimanding his teammates on more than one occasion.

  During the next commercial, Brinkley and I rush to the ladies room. Luckily, we get to skip the lines and head for the employee facilities. When she lingers in the mirror to freshen her makeup, I rush her out of the bathroom, only giving her time to reapply her rouge red lipstick. She puts up a fuss but I explain we don’t have time for anything else. I grab her hand, tugging her behind me as she teases me about my fascination with Branch. And unlike Ragan of the past, I don’t deny it. We’ve even planned to attend a few of his games next season. Of course, I’ll have to add Hayley to the mix. She and Brinkley have become the sisters I never had.

  We slide into our seats just as the screen flips back to the game. It’s down to the last quarter, the last few minutes and very well the last play of the night.

  Dallas has the ball.

  The hike is called.

  Branch takes a few steps back, looks to his left and with a pat on the ball, he sends it soaring down the field just before a mass of green and yellow pile atop him. But they were too late. Number eight caught the ball on the ten yard line and ran the play to completion, earning the Redhorns the Super Bowl win! The bar erupts in cheers, mine amongst the loudest. The camera zooms in on Branch and my heart skips a beat. He’s winded, he’s sweaty, and he’s gorgeous. And once again, he’s proven why he’s The Man on Fire.

  The Day After The Super Bowl

  AFTER A PROSPEROUS MORNING WITH Jean Pierre, I call it quits and gleefully head off to run my errand. I’ve decided to start a new project today. The idea actually came to me after watching the Super Bowl. As Branch’s stats and various slow motion shots continuously flashed across the screen yesterday, they inspired me to paint a montage of images…all of him.

  Standing in the magazine section of the local bookstore, I thumb through a few pages of Sports Illustrated until I come to a section highlighting Branch and expel a gasp. Holy shit! He’s naked. He’s fully naked. I horn in on every angle of the picture and slowly exhale the air I didn’t realize I’d been holding, unable to tear my eyes away from those rippling biceps or the thick band of muscles that define his thighs. Sweet baby Jesus. This man is the purest definition of sin.

  And his pose—bloody brilliant. He’s standing with a slight twist of his torso. His long fingers curve over a football that he ho
lds just below his waist in a position that conceals his goodies. I’m certain every woman, and quite a few men, are more than a little disappointed by the placement of that ball.

  I exhale a wistful sigh. This is the man I had the pleasure of seeing up close and personal. The man who ate my pussy like he was being paid, fucked me past the point of delirium, then sent me on my way the next day. The man I’m still hung up on and shouldn’t be.

  He appears untouchable. A magnificent specimen gracing a two-page spread. I can just imagine the photo shoot. Despite the softer side of Branch McGuire, he’s an arrogant ass most times. I’m sure he was ogled by everyone on the set, and I’m equally sure he was still every bit the full-of-himself package of man candy he always is. Totally unaffected by the lingering eyes of those behind the lens.

  I smooth my finger across the image of a man I’d gotten to know, a man I can now claim as my friend. An asshat with an unshakeable disposition that I’d often found to be a turnoff when he was taunting me, but I’d be lying if I’d said it wasn’t just as much of a turn-on.

  The rustle of customers pulls me from my deliciously dirty thoughts and I proceed to grab every publication I can find that features Branch on the cover. After I’m certain I’ve secured all they have, I head to the register. The cashier glances at the stack of magazines, deep lines forming between her barely there eyebrows when she looks up at me. She probably thinks I’m some kind of psycho stalker. I can see how it may appear that way. I grin at her and slide my credit card into the reader.

  Back at home, I grab a bottle of wine, get CeeCee situated, then in no time at all, I’m immersed in my project. Inspired by my muse, I find myself soon lost in what I’m doing. Occasionally I look over at Cecelia as she mimics Mommy. At the small table beside me, she’s drawing a picture of her stuffed animals. I take a sip of wine and decide on a flat-white base, lightly brushing it over the canvas when the doorbell rings.

  “I’ll be right back, sweetie,” I say to CeeCee and wonder who would be dropping by in the middle of the afternoon. After one last sip of wine, I place the empty glass on the counter, then cross the room. When I press the button for the door cam, I damn near lose every ounce of that Chardonnay when I see intense blue eyes staring back at me. Oh my God! It’s him. The one man I never expected to see anywhere besides on a TV screen. The man responsible for the amazing changes in the lives of me and my daughter. And he’s standing on the other side of my door. A flicker of excitement sparks in my chest as my insides turn to mush. Not bothering to check my appearance, I reach for the knob to remove the barrier between us.

  “Hey,” he says, and flashes that stomach-flipping, breathtaking smile.

  Oh holy hell. How can one simple word turn my knees turn to Jell-O? I lean against the door for support. “Hey.”

  An awkward expression shifts his features.

  “What are you doing here? I mean…I kinda thought it would be much longer before I…before we…I thought you said I was ready to stand on my own.”

  “You have a little something right here.” Branch touches a hand to my cheek, his fingers working to wipe away the paint smudges. “And I said you can stand on your own because it’s true.”

  “Then I don’t understand. Why are you here?” Not that I’m complaining, but it’s been over a year and I’m so caught off guard that I can barely breathe, let alone form coherent thought. I part my lips and remind myself to speak, but the words are stuck in my throat, so I don’t bother. Instead I take him in. The dark blond hair cropped short, the thick brows that hood dazzling blue eyes, the prominent jawline, the pink lips…oh those full, pink, fuck-me lips. Good God, he’s nice to look at. Or in my case, gawk at like a raving lunatic.

  As my gaze remains fixed on those perfect lips, he steps over the threshold, and his large strong hands frame my face. With my body frozen in place and my heartbeat stammering in my ears, I lift my eyes to his and I swear a part of my soul drifts into him.

  He’s going to kiss me. Branch McGuire is going to kiss me.

  He lowers his head and brushes his mouth ever so softly over mine, meeting my lips with a light touch. On instinct my body curls into him and a piece of his soul, equal in part to what I’d given him, breathes new life into me. My mouth molds to his in an inexplicable rightness that answers the question his words didn’t.

  This kiss is everything. It awakens the dormant part of my existence. It assures me that I’m not in this alone and that I never will be again. His tongue slips inside my mouth tasting of me as I tenderly do the same of him. And in this moment, I feel my heart heal completely.

  He draws me closer and I let go of everything except him. Except now. Except the irreversible pairing of two beacons that through time and space emerge as salvaged hearts that have miraculously survived a storm of chaos and heartache.

  My life has been a shroud of impenetrable obscurity punctuated by moments of clarity. And this kiss is precisely that. Nothing has ever been as clear, as certain, as this. It redefines life as I know it and it buries the shattered beginnings of my past.

  The kiss lasts for several long minutes until Branch eventually pulls away, slightly winded and his eyes soft with a tenderness that melts every piece of my heart.

  If that earth-shattering kiss hadn’t conveyed the depth of his feelings, the warmth of his gaze confirms everything I could ever hope for, but I need to hear him say the words. “So…are you going to answer me now? Why is Branch McGuire on my doorstep?”

  He shakes his head and exhales a long sigh, smiling to himself, almost as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “Because you’re that girl I can’t stop thinking about.”

  THE END

  Coming Soon

  Dancing In The Dark

  An Untouched Series Spinoff

  A Snippet from Dancing In The Dark

  Allison

  NO MORE GOING BACK AND forth—living in Chicago to appease my parents but longing for the freedom that New York City provides. Today makes it official. I’d finally cut the strings…sort of. I mean, I can’t very well live without Daddy’s credit cards, not yet anyway.

  Upper East Side Manhattan is the place I now call home. My mail has been forwarded, my clothing has filled every available space in the two guest room closets, I’m back with my ballet company and I’m knee deep in plans for a spectacular splash that will properly welcome me to the New York scene. The only thing left to do is break the news to my family—especially my big overbearing brother Aiden—that I’m not living alone, that I actually moved in with my boyfriend William Holt.

  That conversation won’t go over very well, which is the only reason I’ve put it off. That…plus Daddy may cut me off if he realizes I’m living in a manner he deems inappropriate for his little girl. Yes, I’m an adult in every sense of the word, but he doesn’t quite see it that way. At least not yet. And with just one word from Aiden, Daddy will end all discussion of my ‘needs’ and cancel any access I have to the family fortune. So until I find a way to make money of my own, my living arrangement must remain a secret. Thing is…what can I do that will provide the same lifestyle the Raine billions have afforded me since birth?

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  Lilly Wilde is the Author of The Untouched Series (Untouched, Touched, Touch
ed By Him, Only His Touch and Forever Touched). She is a wife and mom who loves to fill each day with happiness and laughter. Lilly loves to dream, get lost in fantasy and create alternate worlds in which we can escape ever so often. She’s down-to-earth, engaging and compassionate with a great sense of humor. Her laughter is one of the first qualities that you’ll notice; you’ll become instantly drawn to her witty and fun-loving spirit.

  Lilly spent a lot of time daydreaming as a child which led to numerous hours of reading and eventually the writing of poetry. The first story Lilly began writing was entitled He Lied To Me, a novel she plans to complete in the near future. After years of starting and stopping several novels, she eventually set a goal to complete her debut novel, Untouched.

  Her stories are of strength, growth, facing demons and stepping outside your comfort zone. They often surround topics of family and love and the beauty of both.