Operation Get Her Back

by Claire Kingsley

  “Yes.” She looks deep into my eyes. “I am. I’m pregnant with our baby.”

  I scoop her up in my arms, holding her tight against me, and close my eyes. I let her words sink in. She’s everything I ever needed. I spent so long believing I’d lost her forever. Now she’s here, with me. In our home. Wearing my ring. Having my baby.

  Mission accomplished.

  Ready for more happily ever afters in Jetty Beach? Turn the page for a preview of Weekend Fling.

  Weekend Fling: Chapter 1

  Juliet

  I fall backward onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh. “You guys have to tell me what’s going on. This is the worst.”

  Number of times I’ve begged my girlfriends to tell me what we’re doing: eleven.

  Becca throws a cardigan on top of my face. “Hush, you. We’ll tell you when we’re good and ready.”

  I groan and throw it back at her. She bats it down to the floor, and tucks her blond hair behind her ear before she goes back to packing my bag.

  Number of times they’ve listened: zero.

  “Calm your tits, Juliet,” Madison says. Her curly brown hair is a little wild around her face, and she’s wearing a t-shirt that says the sass is strong with this one. “We’ll get you all packed, and then maybe we’ll tell you where we’re going.”

  It’s like they don’t know me at all. They show up at my house at seven on a Thursday morning, ambushing me before work. Then they tell me the three of us are going out of town for a long weekend, but they won’t tell me where. They won’t tell me anything.

  Surprises are really not my thing. And they’re doing this to me after I explicitly told them I want to let this weekend go by with absolutely no fanfare whatsoever. Nothing. Nada. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to talk about it. And I really don’t want to fucking celebrate it.

  But my friends Becca and Madison? Oh no, they couldn’t let it go. They couldn’t let a girl have a birthday in peace.

  So here I am, lying on my bed while my girlfriends go through my closet, packing a bag for me. I’m itching—absolutely itching out of my skin—over this. I’m going to have to go through my bag before we leave, because I cannot go away for the weekend with a bag someone else packed. Are they kidding me with this scene? I keep packing lists handy, and they won’t even look at them. As if they’re going to know what I’ll need to bring for a weekend away.

  “This is the stupidest thing you two have ever done,” I say.

  “And you’re being a whiny bitch,” Madison says with a laugh. “We’re trying to do something fun and nice for you, and all you’re doing is complaining.”

  “Something nice?” I ask. “Something nice would be bringing me a bottle of vodka and leaving me alone with it so I can drown my old-lady sorrows.”

  Becca laughs. “Stop being such a drama queen. You’re not old.”

  “I’m almost old,” I say. “I will be on Saturday.”

  “If twenty-eight is old, then people are old for most of their lives,” Madison says. “Birthdays are fun, and we aren’t letting you get away with not celebrating.”

  “Fine, we can celebrate,” I say. “But tell me what we’re doing. You guys know how much I hate this.”

  “No, we are not telling you.” Becca folds a skirt and puts it in my bag. “You need to loosen up. Like, a lot. We’re going to show you that being spontaneous can be fun. Even if you think it’s going to kill you. Which it won’t.”

  I groan again. “Okay, don’t tell me where we’re going. But let me pack.”

  “You don’t know what we’re doing, so you don’t know what to pack,” Madison says. “Honestly, Jules, we’ve got this. Go downstairs and have some coffee. We’ll finish up here and then we can head out.”

  “Ugh.” I haul myself up off the bed. “Fine.”

  “Your latte is on the counter,” Becca says. “Sixteen-ounce, two percent, one raw sugar, extra foam.”

  “Okay, maybe you do love me,” I say, and head down the stairs.

  Becca and Madison really are the best. I love them dearly, even when they piss me off. I just don’t know why they’re always insisting I go against my nature. I like to have things planned in advance. What’s so bad about that? I’m organized and on top of things. I’m punctual and reliable. Those are good traits in a person. Yet they always insist I need to throw caution to the wind. Take risks. I take plenty of risks. Just last week I went to a restaurant I’d never been to, and I didn’t have time to read the entire menu before I ordered. I just picked one of the first things I saw that looked good. Do they appreciate what it took for me to do that? Oh, no. Of course not. They call me an overthinking control freak.

  I grab the coffee they brought and sit on the couch. It’s my overthinking control-freak nature that’s gotten me this far in life, so I don’t see the problem. I own my own business, I bought this lovely townhouse last year, and I make enough money to indulge in cute clothes and pretty shoes when I want to. My life is just fine, thank you very much. I don’t need them whisking me away for secret girls’ weekends for my birthday—with no information whatsoever.

  “Jules,” Madison yells down the stairs. “Where’s your makeup bag?”

  “Oh my god, at least let me pack my own bathroom shit,” I yell at her.

  “Just tell me where the bag is,” she says. “It’s not that hard.”

  “They’re all in the second drawer, and everything is color-coded, so don’t get it all mixed up!”

  Madison doesn’t answer. Yep, I’m going to have to repack, and they’re going to whine at me for how long it’s taking.

  A few minutes later, Becca hauls my suitcase down the stairs.

  I jump up from the couch. “Drop that right there. I need to go through it.”

  “Nope,” she says with a big smile. “We’re leaving. Right now.”

  “Just let me make sure nothing will get wrinkled,” I say.

  Madison appears behind me and grabs my shoulders, pointing me toward the front door. “Come on, Jules. Let’s go.”

  Becca opens the door and carries my suitcase outside while Madison pushes me out. She grabs my purse on the way and hands it to me.

  “Keys,” Madison says. “Hand them over.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I won’t have you bolting back inside, or making a run for your car,” she says. “I’ll lock up.”

  I scowl at her and dig in my purse, finding my keys. I drop them into her outstretched palm with a clink.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I watch to make sure the door actually locks, then follow them to Madison’s car.

  Becca’s putting my suitcase in the trunk, and I see there are two more suitcases already in there. I guess they’re serious about going out of town.

  “Birthday girl rides shotgun,” Becca says and gets in the back.

  “That’s something, at least.” I get in the passenger’s seat and Madison goes around to the driver’s side.

  “Okay, girls,” Madison says, starting up the engine. “Are you ready for an awesome fucking weekend?”

  “Yes!” Becca says.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Yay?”

  Madison digs around in the center console. Her mess doesn’t bother me because it isn’t my mess, but I have no idea how she functions in this car. There’s shit everywhere. Finally, she pulls out a plastic silver tiara with pink rhinestones.

  “For the birthday princess,” she says.

  I laugh and put it on, then look in the mirror and smooth down my light brown hair. “Very sexy. Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

  “No.”

  I shake my head, but I smile. I can’t stay mad at them. And the truth is, as uncomfortable as this spontaneous stuff makes me, I know we’ll have a great time together. We always do.

  Madison pulls out onto the street and heads for the freeway. Our direction will be my first clue, so I’m anxious to see which route she takes.

  She pulls
up to a stop sign and glances at me. “Do you want me to avoid going by his building?”

  “No, I told you, I’m fine.” By his, she means Jacob’s place. My ex. Recent ex.

  “Are you sure?” she asks. “I can avoid it.”

  “I’m sure. It honestly doesn’t bother me.” I’m not really telling the truth, and I can tell Madison knows it. But I don’t want it to bother me, so I’m trying the fake it till you make it thing.

  People saw me and Jacob as the perfect match. He’s a lot like me, so it seemed like we’d be great together. He’s organized, punctual, and driven. We both appreciate proper planning. Neither of us likes to make snap decisions, especially about things that are important. Our relationship had a level of structure that was comforting. I knew what I was getting with Jacob. There weren’t any surprises.

  Of course, no surprises got a little boring. He insisted on doing things the same way, every time. I like my routine, but Jacob was incapable of doing anything outside the norm. My friends say I’m set in my ways, but Jacob was a stone fucking statue who would not budge.

  And life in the bedroom? My friends would never believe me, but I actually like spontaneity when it comes to sex. I like to mix it up and try new things. Jacob? Not so much. It was the same thing, every time. It wasn’t awful, but there wasn’t much to it, either.

  We’d been dating for two years, and I kind of figured he was the one. He wasn’t perfect, but hell, who is? We were comfortable together. And isn’t that enough for a marriage? Comfort?

  When he told me he thought we should break up, I was floored. It felt like it came out of nowhere, but looking back, I should have known. And as hurt as I was, it didn’t take me long to realize it was probably for the best.

  But now? I’m about to turn twenty-eight, and I’m starting over. This is not where I planned to be at this age, and I think that, even more than losing Jacob, is what really pisses me off.

  “Has it really only been a month since you guys broke up?” Becca asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow, it feels like it’s been longer,” she says. “You seem like you’re so fine. A month after my last relationship ended, I was still in the ‘eating ice cream for dinner’ phase.”

  “I remember,” I say. “It’s hard, but I’m just trying to move on, you know?”

  “Hey, maybe we’ll meet some hot men this weekend,” Madison says.

  “Um, neither of you are meeting hot men,” I say. “Last time I checked, I’m the only one of us who is pathetically single.”

  Madison stretches out her left hand and admires her engagement ring. “True, I am off the market, aren’t I? But Becca, Brandon better put a ring on it soon, or you need to seriously consider your options.”

  “Stop,” Becca says with a laugh. “You get engaged, and suddenly everyone needs a ring?”

  “Oh, come on,” Madison says. “You’ve been with Brandon for three fucking years. That guy needs to commit.”

  “He will when he’s ready,” Becca says. “I’m not rushing him.”

  “Whatever,” Madison says. “Fine, I’m not looking for hot men, but if I find one for Juliet, I’m hooking a girl up.”

  I laugh. “That’s fair. I am the birthday girl.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Madison says. She eyes me from the side. “You know what? That’s what I want to get you for your birthday.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Laid.”

  I burst out laughing and have to readjust my tiara. “I seriously doubt you’re getting me laid for my birthday.”

  “Why not?” she asks. “That would be the ultimate birthday present. If I can pull that off, I’m an uber-badass.”

  “If you get me laid this weekend, I’ll buy you a medal that says Best Fucking Friend in the Universe,” I say.

  Becca laughs. “Right, like Juliet would sleep with a guy she just met.”

  “Oh, now the fact that I like to date men for a while before I let them get me naked is a bad thing?”

  “No, I’m just saying sleeping with someone you just met would be way too spontaneous for you,” Becca says.

  “It would not.”

  Madison snorts. “Have you ever done it?”

  “Have you?”

  Madison glances at me with an eyebrow raised.

  “Okay, I know you have,” I say. “Becca?”

  “All right, no,” she says. “But neither have you.”

  “You’re right, I’ve never done it,” I say. “And no, I don’t know if I ever would. You’re probably right, that’s way outside my comfort zone. But this magical hottie we’re going to meet this weekend might make me change my mind.”

  Madison laughs. “If only. But we do have an awesome weekend planned, okay? We really wanted to surprise you and do something fun. You’ve been too pouty about your birthday this year, and I know the whole Jacob thing has been hard. This is going to be great.”

  I take a deep breath. “Okay, I’m sorry I was being a snot about it. I’ll loosen up and we’ll have so much fun.”

  “There you go,” Madison says. Becca reaches forward and squeezes my shoulder.

  “Now will you tell me where we’re going?” I ask, noticing we’re getting on the freeway heading south.

  “No,” they both say in unison.

  I sigh and settle back into my seat, wondering what they have in store for me.

  Keep reading Weekend Fling

  Afterword

  Dear reader,

  Maybe I tested Hunter’s patience so much in this story because this book tested mine.

  I knew I would write Hunter’s story way back when I was writing the first Jetty Beach book. He comes home, reuniting with his adoptive family during Ryan and Nicole’s story. From that point forward, his story swirled around in the back of my mind, and I was so excited to write it. But, I had to wait.

  I love a good second chance romance. There are so many big feels when a couple has already been in love, and lived through hard times. And these two certainly had some hard times to get past.

  If you’ve read my other novels, you probably already know what a soft spot I have for heroes who are Good Men. I think I write so many heroes that way because I love to celebrate the good men of the world. They’re out there—I know quite a few of them. That isn’t to say the characters I create aren’t flawed—they are. But I love writing about men with big hearts who adore their women.

  Hunter isn’t perfect, but his heart is so very good. He’s a protector. Even as a teenager, he had a desire to protect the people he loved. He didn’t bail on his family because he was an asshole—he left because he thought he had to. He didn’t think they were safe if he was around. Was that true? There’s really no way to know. The important thing is that Hunter believed that, to his very core. And as he tells Emma late in the book, serving in the military wasn’t a mistake for him. He needed something to help him work through his anger. By the time we meet him, he’s a much calmer man than he would have been without his military service. Whether or not he would have been dangerous to the people he loved is hard to say, but the Hunter who returns home certainly isn’t. He’s found peace.

  Although PTSD isn’t the central theme of this book, Hunter does have some residual struggles with it. I didn’t want that to overwhelm the story, but I also wanted to acknowledge that seeing combat changed him, and not all of those changes were positive.

  I think the key to understanding Emma is something she realizes late in the story: Hunter took a piece of her with him when he left. She doesn’t struggle to get over him for a decade simply because the way he left was traumatic. It was, certainly. Not knowing where he’d gone or what happened, or even whether he was alive, would have eaten a hole in anyone’s heart. But it was deeper than that. He and Emma shared a powerful love at a young age, and when he left, Emma was no longer whole. She feels a certain amount of shame over the fact that ten years later, she’s still hurt. But I don’t see her as weak. She loved deeply at an
age when many girls wouldn’t be able to open their hearts to someone so fully. She was strong enough in herself to do so—to love Hunter with a depth that transcended their young age. Unfortunately, she got hurt in the process.

  But I think Hunter made up for it.

  A quick note about Isaac. His name is a tribute to my older half-brother, who was born too early to stay in this world. With my mom’s blessing, I used his name for the sweet little boy in this story.

  I hope you enjoyed Hunter and Emma’s story! Thanks for reading!

  CK

  Also by Claire Kingsley

  For a full and up-to-date listing of Claire Kingsley books visit www.clairekingsleybooks.com

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