Forbidden Attraction: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by K. C. Crowne

  Jackson frowned and looked around disapprovingly.

  "Take a seat," I told him.

  "Where?"

  "On the bed over there if you want."

  "Jesus, that thing's like fifty years old."

  "Still going strong."

  He plopped himself down on it and it squeaked under his weight as though it was in pain. His misery was further intensified when he pulled out his phone and realized there was no WiFi.

  "Can you not get the internet up here?" he asked, annoyed.

  "Nah. But if you stand by the window and angle your phone just right, you can get a single bar of signal."

  "Awesome," he replied sarcastically.

  I ignored him and set about chucking a few logs into the fire and lighting a sheet of newspaper to place on top. Jackson watched me from the bed as I pushed the poker into the flames.

  "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

  "I suppose Grandpa’d be proud of you living up here, putting his cabin to use. He was always trying to get us to visit when we were kids, remember?"

  "And the only time we made it up one summer he yelled at us for playing on our Game Boys all day."

  Jackson laughed and jumped off the bed, taking the poker from my hand to stoke the fire himself.

  "Sit down," he said. "You need to rest."

  "I'm fine! I'm not an invalid."

  "I can still see you limp sometimes," he replied. "I know it still hurts."

  I said nothing.

  Since being shot, I'd done everything I could to get stronger, and I still worked out like a maniac. I didn't want anything to hold me back, but I'd be lying if I said the pain didn't get to me sometimes. The bullet had done long-lasting damage to my muscles and grazed the edge of my femur. The doctors told me there would always be some pain, but I didn't want to believe them.

  "Here," I said, changing the subject. "Have a drink."

  "Is that bourbon?"

  "Obviously."

  I handed him a glass, and he took it gratefully, knocking half of it down in one gulp.

  " Jesus! This shit is strong! What is it?"

  "Homemade recipe."

  "Are you shitting me? From you?"

  "Nah, old Herbert down the road."

  "Herbert! As in the old decrepit guy who lived in the next house over?"

  He made it sound as though he was a next-door neighbor, but the reality was his own cabin was at least a mile away through the thick forest balanced precariously on a ledge of slate rock. The old dude had lived here his whole life and could make anything from scratch. That included bourbon.

  "Lives," I corrected Jackson. "He's still here."

  "He must be at least eighty!"

  "Eighty-three," I said. "And he's still as strong as a bull. Still does everything for himself up here. Although I guess he doesn't have much of a choice, being on his own."

  "I remember meeting him a couple times when I was a kid, and he really gave me the creeps," he said, putting down his drink, so he could warm his hands on the fire. "I can't believe he's still alive, and I can't believe I just drank his homemade bourbon. I'm probably gonna go blind."

  "Ah, you'll be fine. I've been drinking it for weeks. Does nothing but turn your piss a weird color."

  "Okay, thanks for that. I'll keep that in mind."

  Despite his reluctance, he gulped down the rest of his glass and crouched down beside me on the floor, the bottom of his pant legs growing dusty. The two of us sat there, staring into the fire like when we were kids.

  I took a sideways glance at him and noticed he looked deep in thought. His hands were on his lap, his thumb picking at the nail of his middle finger.

  "You know they really wanted to be with you today," he suddenly blurted out.

  "Dylan and Lucas?"

  "Yeah," he nodded. "They feel like shit they couldn't be at the courthouse."

  "I get it. It was my idea they worked, remember?"

  When a call came in late last night from a frantic woman saying her ex-husband was watching the house and making threats against her and her daughter, she was adamant she needed around the clock security, and she needed the best. That meant her first port of call had to be SecuriCorp.

  At first, Lucas and Dylan had turned it down. They wanted to be with me, they said, but I'd insisted they take the job. I didn't want to see them lose out on a good payday just to watch that piece of shit Mario get put behind bars.

  “You can head on home,” I told Jackson. “You should be with Gabby. What if she needs more ice cream?”

  “I don't wanna leave you here alone.”

  “I'm fine. Besides, I've got Herbert nearby.”

  “That doesn't count. The doddery old fucker has no idea what's going on half the time.”

  He stood up and dusted off his pants. Outside, the sun was still shining, but it was beginning to dip in the late afternoon. In a couple hours, the cabin would descend into pitch darkness with nothing but the light of the fireplace to keep me company.

  “Honestly, just go,” I told him.

  He hesitated, shuffled his weight from one foot to the other then approached me. Laying a hand on my back, I sensed his uneasiness.

  “I'll be fine,” I insisted. “Honestly. Don't worry about me.”

  “I can't help it. You're my little brother.”

  “I'm not that little anymore.”

  “You shouldn't be on your own.”

  “Says who?” I asked. “I'll be fine. I actually enjoy being alone, and the silence too.”

  “Yeah, well I enjoy being in the real world. You're gonna have to come back eventually.”

  “Eventually,” I replied. “But not yet.”

  He gave me one last pat on the back then walked away, loitering in the doorway for a second.

  “See you in the morning?” he asked.

  “I'll be down at the diner first thing.”

  He smiled and gave me an affirmative nod.

  “Behave yourself up here,” he said with a wink. “Go easy on that bourbon.”

  I watched him leave, walking as slowly as he could back to the truck. From where I sat, I could just about make him out through the window, sitting in the driver's seat waiting, as though he hoped I'd change my mind and go with him.

  After a few moments, he drove away, and I was finally alone. The heat from the fire was making me sleepy already, and the shot of bourbon had gone to my head. It also didn't help that I'd not slept for a second the night before. I'd spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, waiting for the moment I'd step into the courthouse and watch Mario get sentenced. I'd been waiting months to hear those magic words; life imprisonment.

  But now it was all over, and the last of the Giannis was gone, it was time for Station Springs to resume normal life.

  A yawn escaped my body as my eyes grew heavy. Staggering over to the bed, I fell into it and let the heat from the fire wash over me.

  I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes, I thought.

  When I opened them again, it was dark outside, and the fire had burned away to embers.

  Megan

  "Let me guess, the usual?"

  "Absolutely, Alan!"

  He grinned and slid two Budweisers across the bar toward me.

  "Nice to see you both back," he said. "I’ve not seen you here in a while."

  "Been working my ass off," I explained. "Overtime's a bitch."

  "Ah, but you love your job."

  "Yeah I really do."

  Alan moved away to serve a large group of customers that were pushing up against the bar. Taking the beers, I pushed my way through everyone and emerged at the back of the bar to where my best friend, Ruby, was sitting in her usual seat.

  The two of us had been coming to Flannigans almost every weekend for the last five years and always sat in the same booth. Mainly because it was right next to the jukebox, and Ruby had an obsession with headbanging to all the seventies classic rock hits.

  She was eyeing it up
now as she decided what to put on.

  "Aerosmith or Kiss?" she asked as I approached and handed her a beer.

  "How about something different for a change? You know mix it up a little."

  She looked at me as though I'd just insulted her great ancestors.

  "Mix it up? Like I should just start playing Roxi Lane songs from now on?"

  "Hey, there's nothing wrong with Roxi. Some of her songs are really catchy."

  "So's syphilis, but I don't want that either."

  I laughed and sank into my seat. It had been a long week, and I wanted nothing more than a night getting tipsy with my favorite girl.

  "I'm going for Aerosmith," she said, standing up to slot coins into the jukebox.

  "Just make sure it's not Dream On. You ALWAYS play that one."

  Thankfully, the opening chords to Crazy came on accompanied by Ruby's out of key voice. She danced her way back to the table still singing.

  "I freakin' LOVE Aerosmith!" she said. "Which reminds me. Did you hear about who's playing the town Halloween festival?"

  "Nope."

  "Red Cherry."

  "Get outta here! Really? The Red Cherry?"

  "Yep! They're not quite Aerosmith."

  "But they're the next best thing! Aw, man! I loved them growing up."

  "I still love them," said Ruby. "I mean I did name one of my cats after their lead singer Corey Dumont."

  "Which one's Corey again?"

  "The ginger one."

  I shrugged, not able to remember. I wasn't much of a cat person, and Ruby had five of them, all of them elusive little fuckers that insisted on running under my feet and hiding beneath the bed when I entered. No doubt they could probably smell the dogs off me.

  Now dogs, they were actually pets worth having. They loved you for starters, and they never wrecked your curtains because you bought them the wrong brand of tuna like Ruby's did.

  "How are your fur babies?" Ruby asked.

  At least one thing we had in common was that our pets were like children to us. My own little babies, Rolo and Reuben, were my whole life and what I looked forward to when I went home.

  "They're as cute as ever," I replied.

  "Cute? I wouldn't quite say they're cute. I meant they're Rottweilers, Megan."

  "Hey! Rottweilers are cute! And they're still puppies. Who doesn't like puppies?"

  "They're not like, you know, puppies though. They're five-month-old mega beasts. The things are almost the size of horses."

  I laughed. “Over exaggerate much?”

  Which was best, cats or dogs? It was never an argument Ruby and I were going to settle. But it wasn't the only thing we disagreed on. We pretty much had opposite opinions on everything. Ruby for instance loved horror movies more than anything, but I thought they were ghastly and would rather curl up on the sofa with a good rom com.

  Ruby loved going to outdoor parties where she spent her weekends camping and dancing in a muddy field. I, meanwhile, preferred the comfort of a club or a bar where I was always a taxi ride away from a hot shower.

  And of course there were our jobs. We both liked to care for people, but in totally different ways. Ruby worked as a holistic therapist teaching people the power of meditation and crystals. And she spent a great deal of her time guiding her patients through past life trauma to deal with their current illnesses. And me? Well I preferred healthcare that was rooted in the real world, working as a Physical Therapist in a local therapy practice.

  Still, despite our differences, Ruby and I had become the closest friends since we were side by side at a Pilates class years ago. There was just something that clicked immediately between us. I may have thought she was a bit wacky and she thought I was boring and grounded, but after we shared our first beer, we were instant besties.

  "I take it you won't be persuaded to babysit the boys any time soon?" I laughed.

  "Hell no!" she squealed. "Those things will eat me for dinner."

  "You're so dramatic," I laughed and drained the last of my beer. "Another?" I asked, raising my bottle.

  "Sure. But it's on me. I'll be right back."

  She got up and headed toward the bar, her long flowing purple skirt swaying gracefully from her narrow hips. I watched as her long, ginger hair swayed down the center of her back and how her pale arms moved elegantly from her black, faux leather top. She looked like a cross between a biker and a fairy princess.

  "Hey," came a voice from beside me.

  Suddenly, I was aware of a body standing next to me smelling of sweat and vodka. Slowly, I turned my head to the left and came face to face with a man's crotch as he leaned against the top of my chair.

  "How's it goin'?" he asked.

  I looked up at his face. He wasn't bad looking; blonde, fairly well-built and wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt. I'd seen worse. He was, however, steaming drunk and swaying as he spoke.

  "Mind if I buy you a drink?" he asked.

  "No thanks. I have a boyfriend."

  "Oh... Don't be like that."

  "I'm not being like anything. I really do have a boyfriend."

  "Fine. Whatever," he mumbled and walked away to talk to another girl.

  "Asshole."

  Ruby returned carrying a tray with two beers and two shots of Sambuca.

  "Are we on the hard stuff already?"

  "We certainly are! Come on, drink up!"

  She slid a shot over to me and I clinked it against hers.

  "Okay, one, two, three!"

  I knocked it back and swallowed it feeling as though my insides were on fire.

  "Aw, fuck! That hurts."

  "To the weekend!" Ruby grinned. "It's only just starting."

  "Yeah, but by the looks of it, for that guy over there the weekend started a lot earlier."

  We both looked over the drunk guy who wasn't having any more luck with his next target who appeared even more disgusted than I was.

  "What did he want?" Ruby asked.

  "To buy me a drink."

  "He's not that bad looking," she said. "Although he looks wasted. It wouldn't have hurt you to let him buy you a drink."

  "I have a boyfriend!"

  "Ugh, why are you even still with that loser," she retorted.

  I glared at her, feeling the effects of the alcohol go to my head.

  "Loser’s a pretty strong word," I replied. "I wouldn't go that far."

  "Be honest. You really don't like him."

  "Of course I like him. I wouldn't be with him otherwise. It's just that..."

  "That what?" Ruby prodded.

  She could be so sweet and sensitive most of the time, but once she got a drink in her, her inner detective was released and there was no question off limits.

  "Just admit you don't like him anymore," she said. "I mean, you've been talking about ending it with him for weeks."

  "I like him just fine when he’s not being a pain in the ass."

  That was an understatement. He was the biggest pain in the ass I'd ever met.

  "Just tell me," she said, taking a gulp of beer. "What exactly do you see in Billy?"

  "He's gorgeous," I said. "And he can be really funny."

  "And that's it?"

  "And other stuff."

  "Like what?"

  "I dunno! He makes a really good steak."

  She rolled her eyes and looked over at the bar.

  "You're kidding yourself," she said.

  "Yeah, well I don't think you're exactly in any position to dish out the relationship advice little Miss I Have A New Boyfriend Every Month."

  "Ouch," she replied. "At least I know how to have fun."

  "I know how to have fun!"

  "I know. I know. Sorry. Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole, it's just that I think Billy's not right for you. And it's early days. You can still break it off with him and it'll be no big deal. I mean how long have you been seeing each other?"

  "It's just coming up to three months."

  "Exactly. Break it off now and y
ou'll both forget about it sooner or later. Keep it going and suddenly three months has turned to three years and you're married with a kid."

  "Don't say that!" I laughed nervously. "I'm never getting married."

  She was right of course; I did have to break it off with him. I'd secretly been wanting to do it for weeks, but it was like I couldn't make my mind up. I always wanted to give him another chance.

  I'd met Billy on a night out with Ruby in this exact bar at the start of the summer, and he was funny, charming, had loads of stories to tell about all the places he'd traveled to, and I was soon swept up.

  And of course, the fact that he was hot as hell didn't exactly hurt either. Six-foot-one with platinum blond hair, blue eyes, tattoos down both his arms and muscles he built at the gym, he was almost my ideal man. Almost...

  Despite being attractive with a magnetic personality, he was also ridiculously jealous. And as soon as we hooked up, his possessive streak started to rear its ugly head.

  It happened gradually at first, so slowly that I barely even knew it was taking place until it was too late. It started with the occasional question, asking me who I was with or where I was. Then he began demanding to know where I was all the time and calling me fives a day. Then it was ten times a day, and he demanded to know who I was spending my lunch break with.

  I told him to quit his bullshit or get out my life, and he’d apologized, said he was sorry, he didn't mean it. He fed me some sob story about how his ex-girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend and it made him untrustworthy of people, especially women.

  I felt sorry for him, of course, understood that a broken heart could affect a person in terrible ways, but that didn't mean I was gonna put up with his shit. For a while, he understood. He stopped calling me constantly, and he gave me some breathing space. I thought the trouble was over, that his insecurities had finally been put to rest.

  But I wouldn't be so lucky.

  All he must have been doing was trying to ignore them until they bubbled to the surface again. Suddenly, just when I had thought they had disappeared for good, they came back with a vengeance.

  "He's got a real bad aura," she’d once told me. "It's black and blurry around the edges. He doesn't let any light in. You need someone who will treat you better. Someone positive and mentally healthy."