DARE You, Dare Duet, Part One: Billie and Sawyer: Unchained Attraction Series

by Shandwick, K. L.

  DARE You, Dare Duet, Part One: Billie and Sawyer

  Unchained Attraction Series

  K.L. Shandwick

  Copyright © 2019 by K.L. Shandwick

  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.

  This is dedicated to my good friend, Julie Berry.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by K.L. Shandwick

  Chapter One

  Retail therapy should have been a welcome distraction from the morose mood I'd been lost in for days. Having time off work used to feel amazing, but not anymore.

  Now, all I feel is lost. The house has been so quiet and empty since my young son, Colby, left for a two-week vacation to Cancun with his grandparents, my future former in-laws.

  Memories of the great times our family had shared crept into my mind, immediately filling my heart with sadness. I'd been stuck in this groove for almost a year now.

  Doreen and Keith were great with my son and loved him to pieces, so I knew my seven-year-old would be having the time of his life. I felt thankful for Colby's grandparents because their continued support had meant the world to me since my soon-to-be ex-husband, Logan—their son—had left me.

  There was a time when I would have been super excited to have downtime. But that was back in the days when I'd been a wife, as well as a mother, and life had been comfortable and much simpler. It was a time when it had felt much easier to breathe.

  The periods when Logan had vacation time from his job as a Professor of English at NYU were even better. This used to be valuable time when he had no daily commute to the city, and we'd had the time to reconnect as a couple. However, since we'd both gained promotions those times had dwindled.

  Personally, my workload had doubled. Add to that his responsibilities and more demands on his time for extracurricular speeches, as well as raising and entertaining our son, my days were full.

  What I had failed to notice for a while was the special dates my husband and I used to share had disappeared, and when it finally dawned on me that Logan spent more time at work than he did at home, I questioned him about it.

  "Billie, you of all people should know what it's like when you first get promoted. You've got to be seen to be going above and beyond," he advised me, sternly reminding me his absence as showing dedication to his new role. "Chairman of the English Department is a position that comes with a certain amount of responsibility," he explained, closing the conversation down.

  Hearing him admonish me with a plausible excuse had made me feel guilty for adding pressure to his still newish situation, and being a reasonable person, my rational side empathized with his need to make a good impression.

  After all, it was only fair he led by example in his new position of authority, and I suppose with the festive season looming at the time, I'd gotten sidetracked with making our Christmas for the family the best it could be.

  The holiday had given me some quality time with my husband, his parents and our son, Colby, but I'd noticed Logan had been quieter than usual.

  Naturally, I'd chalk this up to the pressure of work and tiredness. Once Christmas Day had passed and the new year approached, he'd appeared to perk up again and spoke positively about returning for the new semester.

  Between Christmas and New Year's Day, Logan's parents had gone to visit some old friends in upstate New York for a week, before flying back to Florida, and Logan's mood had changed the very same day.

  Acting restlessly, like he had something on his mind, he eventually told me he had to pop into his office to pick up some important papers he'd forgotten to bring home. I hadn't thought anything of it until the hours had ticked by, but when he hadn't returned by 11:00 p.m. I grew concerned.

  I had been ready to call the police when he'd finally arrived home, minus his car, in a yellow New York taxi.

  "Thank goodness you're okay. Where have you been? I've been worried sick!" My barked tone sounded angry once the relief had subsided. A strong smell of alcohol seeped from his every pore, which was so unlike him. "Did something happen?" I'd asked, staring at him in alarm, because I couldn't imagine what it had taken for him to be in the state he was in and wondered what had been so bad that it had driven him into the nearest bar.

  "Yep, something's wrong. This is wrong," he'd said, gesturing between us with his index finger. Fear had gripped my chest because he hadn't been making sense and him being drunk had felt like a bolt out of the blue.

  "What? I don't understand?" Anxiety tightened my chest, worry creasing my brow. I'd wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him, fighting to keep him upright. Swaying precariously, he'd blinked at me like he couldn't focus.

  "I have to leave," he blurted. The words tore from his mouth as he'd brought his hand to his eyes, swiped past it and tried again. He caught and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. My heart hammered in my chest, the anguish growing with every second that had passed because I hadn't been able to make sense of what he was saying.

  "Leave? Work? I don't understand," I probed hurriedly, as I tried to make sense of what he had told me. He'd looked devastated.

  "Work's fine," he snapped, drawing a long deep breath in through his nose. He held it in almost too long before he finally exhaled and tried to focus his attention on me again. "It's you … Colby. This," he'd offered, throwing his arm out in a sloppy gesture toward our living room.

  "What's going on? You're frightening me, Logan." I heard my frustration in my tone and drew in a calming breath as he stared into my eyes. I stood and waited for him to speak.

  "I know. But there you have it. I am in love, but not with you. I mean, I love you, but Poppy …" he sighed. Somehow, I knew immediately what he meant, and I felt crushed by his words.

  "Poppy?" I'd repeated, as panic gripped my chest. I'd never met anyone with that name.

  When I'd questioned her name, his face immediately softened and a slow smile crept over his lips. He hadn't needed to say the rest, because from the look on his face I'd instantly known what he'd been saying. My whole future had just fallen apart.

  "Shit," he said through a breath. "I'm in love." For a moment, the world stopped spinning and we stood staring blankly at each other, before he proceeded to give me a blow-by-blow account of his affair, from the time they'd met to when he'd voiced the final decision. His words immediately demolished me. Looking back, I felt sure he'
d never have subjected me to the intimate timeline of their affair had he not been drunk.

  He hadn't meant for an affair to happen, but he'd fallen in love with the new professor in the Science department at work. God knows how they'd met—I didn't ask—and I couldn't have cared less. Because the most devastating part of it all was that the woman in question was almost a decade younger than I was.

  If I hadn't been so destroyed by the breakup of my marriage, Logan leaving me for a younger model would have felt so clichéd.

  After I knew what he’d done, I'd had to endure two whole days of him being at home, acting normally around Colby and me until our son had gone to bed. Then he'd put on his heavy overcoat, left the house, and had gone off to stay at some local hotel.

  Those two days had felt like a month, because both he and Colby were still on vacation, and Logan had said he'd had nowhere else to go.

  Most women would have screamed and shouted, but that wasn't my style in the least. I was naturally quiet, and I'd spent most of my life conditioned to put others before myself. Devastated by how my husband had let me down, I'd hidden my true feelings from Colby and determinedly focused all of my attention on him.

  However, my best guess as to why Logan had hung around was because he hadn't considered how we should end and because, as he'd told me in his drunken haze, the details of where he and Poppy would live still probably hadn't been fully arranged.

  I'd given Logan twelve years of my life, married for ten of those, and he'd betrayed me, He’d broken my trust. From my perspective, no matter how distressed I'd felt, I'd known then we'd never come back from that. Broken hearted as I'd been about my husband's deceit, I was determined to focus on Colby's welfare. One of us had to put our son first.

  Finding strength I didn't know I possessed, on the third day I'd told Logan to leave and demanded he didn't come back, only for his mother to show up at my door two hours later again to try to plead his case.

  It had backfired spectacularly because Doreen loved me like a daughter and was as devastated by her son's behavior as I'd been, and she told me she was ashamed Logan had treated me this way. If he'd thought I'd relent and let him come and go from our lives until he was ready, he'd been wrong.

  After that day, I'd worn a public face and a private one, and I'd fought hard not to allow him to control me in the same oppressive way he had during our marriage.

  When I’d hired the services of a family lawyer, I'd insisted Logan stick to a rigid schedule of visitation for Colby and ensured he couldn't exert demands on our lives for access to our son when it suited him best.

  Most of our friends had been his friends and I quickly realised how much of my life had been taken over by his wants, needs and likes when I was left with only a handful of people who still called after he'd left.

  Those few who were still around said they'd admired my strength, but in the privacy of my bedroom, and especially in the dead of night, I'd frequently shed tears for being naïve.

  I had also felt a sense of shame that I'd somehow failed to take care of my marriage and keep Logan interested in me.

  Eleven months and three weeks after we'd parted there was still a huge hole in my life where Logan's work events and social occasions had once been, and I had still felt emotionally overwhelmed when I thought about how he had wronged me. Colby and I struggled to find our feet as we learned to make it on our own.

  I'd found it hard to move forward and I partially blamed myself for this because I'd never been a very confident person. Knowing Logan had fallen for a much younger woman had only added to my lack of self-esteem.

  Looking back on our marriage, every decision that had been made had been decided by Logan.

  This is the reason why we'd only had one child. Colby's purpose for Logan was to carry on his Drummond family name, and since Logan had deserted us, I was glad he'd gotten his way.

  I couldn't imagine trying to bring up more than one child as a single mom while working. My admiration for those women who did this had risen to a whole new level after Logan was gone and I imagined myself in their shoes.

  There were days when my strength shone through and during these 'good days', I pushed myself to do all the chores expected of me as a mother.

  Even then my fragile moods still swung between fury, shame, self-loathing and mistrust like a hypnotist's watch in full flight after I'd been deserted by the man I had loved with all of my heart.

  Sometimes I tried not to focus on the negative parts of our marriage, and occasionally I allowed myself the luxury of reflecting on how we used to be. It was during those times I dwelled on how close Logan and I once had been.

  During these moments, I felt further distress when I reminded myself that those precious early memories of our time together would be forever tinged with a measure of sadness because I had shared them with Logan. Then I'd feel mad and not sad, and on those occasions, anger had felt a necessity because it had gotten me through the day.

  With Christmas just around the corner, I'd been dreading the impending milestone of our first without my husband, not that I'd ever have taken him back. Before the split, I'd never empathized with people who felt depressed when the festive season loomed—until it was me who'd faced it alone.

  There was also another depressing hurdle to get through, as I had been due to spend part of the holiday on my own, without my son.

  Christmas visitation time fell on a Logan weekend and consequently, this was scheduled at my husband's and his mistress's cozy new love nest, with his father, and my soon-to-be ex-in-laws.

  As I neared the end of 5th Avenue, a sudden flash of lightning was rapidly followed by a huge clap of thunder which almost frightened the life out of me.

  The sudden noise shook me out of my broody dark thoughts because I hated thunderstorms.

  Forced out of my daydream by the change of weather, I fought against the instantaneous noisy roar of the heavy downpour and quickly made for the nearest shelter. Taking refuge under a brightly striped canvas shop canopy, I stood next to others who'd had the same idea.

  Laden with my glossy paper bags stuffed full of gifts, I stood for a few seconds wondering how long the downpour would last. I glanced at the flimsy paper bags as I caught my breath and when I looked above me I saw the striped canvas bulge as the rain collected on top of it.

  For a moment I considered whether or not to run to my car, parked in a parking lot a block and a half away or stay where I was, and quickly rejected making a run for it when I thought of the already damp—and therefore compromised— bags in my hands.

  I'd spent far more than I'd intended to but felt pleased with my purchases of luxury sweaters, perfume and other delicate goodies for Logan's parents and the handful of friends that I had. I knew I couldn't chance to expose the shopping bags further to the rain without them falling apart.

  My feet ached, but rainstorm or not, with only one more person to buy for I'd been determined to complete my list and decided to try and wait out the storm. Minutes later, there had still been no let-up and the rain-filled canvas above me had begun to leak.

  Fortunately, when I looked to my left, I noticed an inviting little wine bar only two doors down from where I stood. On impulse, I took the unusually brave decision for me, to get out of the rain and brave the wine bar alone.

  Once I stepped inside, I hadn’t felt nearly as brave as I had when I was out in the street. I glanced further down the dimly lit, crowded wine bar; it felt far too intimate to a lone female like me. However, before I could turn and leave a petite blonde waitress with a welcoming toothy grin stepped out from a wooden hatch in the counter and stood directly in front of me.

  "Hey there, table for one?" she asked in a chirpy tone. She pivoted the top half of her body around from the waist, her eyes scanning the place for an empty table. I found myself doing the same.

  My stomach knotted at the question, and her "table for one" comment reminded me again of how alone I felt. I hesitated for a second and glanced out at
the dreary weather again. I sighed. "Yes, please," I heard myself reply.

  "Thanks to the rain we're almost full, but you're in luck. We've got one table left." She smiled and gestured at the small oak table right by the door. I figured since it was probably drafty and less intimate than the rest that it had been suitable for someone like me.

  Without replying, I let her lead me to the square wooden table and perched my various paper gift bags on two of the seats either side of me. I stared at the last empty chair located opposite me, facing the door.

  "What can I get for you?" the waitress prompted again with a smile.

  "Chardonnay?" I questioned, without looking at the wine menu. I felt grateful when she nodded and moved away to order it from the bar. Grabbing my purse, I rummaged inside and pulled out my cell phone. I was checking my emails when I heard the familiar voice of my husband, and my heart stopped for a beat.

  "May I have a clean glass, please?" Hearing his tone scattered my thoughts. I felt my pulse in my throat and when I glanced up, I saw Logan. Holding up a smudged glass for the waitress's inspection, he twirled it this way and that. What the hell are the chances of this?

  The waitress apologized profusely as she took the dirty glass from him and passed him a clean one. He turned and had begun to walk away, but his step faltered when he suddenly looked up and recognized me.

  His eyes went wide and I sat motionless as I read the indecision in his body language, and waited, almost transfixed, to see what he would do. He pulled himself up straighter and walked over toward me. I instantly felt myself shrink in response and steeled myself to hide this effect from seeing him again.