So, I finished NANOWRIMO strong — thank you, lol. I thought I’d give you a little tease from that manuscript that I will now finish and edit so I can release it on 2.4.2024 ( YIKES)
About the book:
Running away from a public scandal may be considered cowardly, but to Layla Warton, it’s the perfect plan.
After her politically connected fiancé is indicted for embezzlement, bribery, and taking kickbacks from less-than-savory businessmen, Layla wants to put the public ridicule and shame of her guilty-by-association status behind her and move forward with her life. Not easy to do when all her supposed friends and supporters abandoned her and the taint of scandal-adjacent destroyed the successful business and life she’d fostered for herself.
Happy childhood memories and the blessing of a local friend push her toward the tiny New England town of Heaven where she spent summers with her loving grandmother.
With the paparazzi on her tale, an ancient family home she needs to get livable, and a contractor too handsome for her sanity, Layla worries she’ll never be able to get her old life back again.
But would that really be such a bad thing?
Now, the tease….( and remember, this is a first draft!)
Spending the afternoon with her grandmother had lifted her spirits considerably. Now that she knew Effie’s wishes she felt she could make some kind of plan with moving forward. With the appointment set for the morning with the contractor, a tiny weight had lifted from her shoulders.
As she drove through town her stomach growled. The only thing she’d eaten all day was one cookie from the box she’d brought Effie, and now she was feeling peckish. Her gaze caught the sign for the Love Shack as she passed it, turned the car around, and pulled into the lot. Liv had mentioned the night before it was a great place to get take-out food and they had the best burgers in three states. A loaded hamburger sounded perfect right now.
For three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon the lot was packed. She found a spot and then ran against the cold through the doors. The noise was deafening as she made her way through the jammed entranceway to the bar. Three big screen televisions covered the walls broadcasting simultaneous football games. Every table was filled with men and women in striking blue football jerseys with the Patriot’s distinct logo and team member names across them.
Football season was in full swing.
To the cheers and catcalls aimed toward the screens, Layla made her way up to the crowded bar.
The bartender spotted her right away and came over to her.
“What can I get you, sweetheart?” he asked.
Layla craned her neck to look the guy in the face. He had to be six-six if he was an inch with shoulders and arms that regularly saw the inside of a gym. A shaggy mass of black waves drifted down to those colossal shoulders.
“Kick Loomis?”
One bushy eyebrow crawled up his forehead. “Who’s asking?”
Years of ingrained business etiquette had her extending her hand as she lifted up on her toes so he could hear her. “Olivia Joyner mentioned your name to me. I’m Kalya Warton. I—”
“Effie Mason’s granddaughter.” He nodded as he took her hand and cocooned it between both of his. Her own was swallowed up in its mass. “Yeah, Liv said you were visiting. And yes, I’m Kick. Your grannie’s a doll.”
“I agree.”
“What can I do for ya?”
“Liv claims you’ve got the best burgers in three states.”
“She’s not wrong.” His smile beamed at her.
Nodding, she said, “I’d like one, as rare as can be, to go.”
“Rare as in pink or mooing?”
She laughed. “Mooing is perfect.”
“Anything on it? Any sides? Condiments?”
Her gaze glanced across the menu above the bar. “Provolone cheese on the burger, and an order of sweet potato fries, please.”
“Cop a squat,” he pointed to a recently emptied bar stool, “and I’ll get it for ya. Should be about fifteen minutes, tops. Want something to drink while you wait?”
“Diet Pepsi, if you’ve got it.”
He grinned. “Coming right up.”
“Thanks.”
She settled down just as a wave of shouts and cheers erupted from the crowd behind her. Grinning, she spun on the bar stool and before she realized someone was standing behind her, her knees banged into the person, forcing them to stumble backward.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see—you!”
A pair of chocolate brown eyes peered down at her from under hooded lids.
“We’ve got to stop meeting this way,” he said, shaking his head, the ghost of a wry grin sliding across his mouth.
“Are you following me?” she blurted. The idea he could be a reporter bloomed fast and furious within her.
Those dark orbs widened as genuine shock filled his face. “What? No. No, of course not. It’s just…” he shrugged, “serendipity we keep bumping into one another. Or in reality, you bumping into me. Maybe you’re the one doing the following.”
She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, and before she could protest, Kick returned with a glass in one hand a go-bag in the other.
“Hey, Henry. Saw you come in. Got your order.” He handed him the bag, then placed the glass in front of her. “Here’s your drink, Layla.”
They both thanked him at the same time.
“Tell your folks I said hey,” Kick said.
The guy – Henry – lifted the bag and saluted. “Will do. And thanks for getting this ready so fast. My old man loves your wings.”
Kick grinned. “Music to my ears, man.” He turned his attention to Layla. “You’re order’s in.”
“Thank you.”
With a quick grin, he moved back down the bar while she took a sip of her drink for something to occupy her shaking hands. Embarrassment bounded through her and she didn’t want to confront the reason for it standing directly to her right. Three times in the span of two days she’d come close to knocking him over. Granted, she hadn’t been paying attention when she left Liv’s office so that was on her, but the time in the grocery store wasn’t her fault because of the way the aisles were constructed. And maybe she should have checked before spinning on her stool to make sure no one was close by, but still.
“I was only kidding,” she heard him say, dangerously close to her ear, the warmth of his breath shooting little tingles of awareness straight down her spine. A hint of citrus and spice hit her next and it took every ounce of will she could summon not to lean into him and sniff his neck. “I know you’re not stalking me.”
She lifted the glass in her hands, her lips firmly circling the straw as she lifted her gaze up to his face. Because she didn’t trust herself to say something inane or worse – snarky – she sucked the icy cold soda through the straw and tossed him a single nod.
His attention drifted down to her lips. She wasn’t sure because the lighting in the bar was subdued, but if pressed she would have sworn his pupils dilated when they settled on the spot, then lifted back to her eyes.
Layla knew she should swallow. The soda was so cold it was actually ice-burning her teeth. But she couldn’t. Either her body simply forgot how to, or the guy had paralyzed her ability to with the intensity of his gaze.
Whatever the reason, she sat there, not moving, just staring up at him. His eyes really were incredibly dark, the brown in them almost black. The threads of burnished red she’d noted in the natural light of day were softened in the artificial bar light, making the hair seem more like a deer’s pelt; a mix of browns, earthen tones, and lighter shades.
And again, an almost aching need to weave her fingers through it bubbled up, the tips of her fingers tingling.
Henry’s gaze stayed glued to hers as her own drifted down his cheeks to the day’s worth of stubble crossing his jaw. She’d always been a clean-shaven kind of girl when it came to her men but right now wondered why.
He tilted his head and inched closer to her, neither turning their attention from the other.
Another raucous cheer erupted from the crowd.
His eyes widened to the size of sand dollars and his entire body shook like he’d been jolted by an electrical charge. Layla remained stone still, her lips still curved around the straw. He blinked several times before focusing in on her again.
“Well.” He shifted the bag to his opposite hand, cleared his throat. “Gotta go. See ya around. Layla.”
She tracked him as he shouldered his way through the bar throng. Several women stopped him to chat, all touching him, one boldly kissing him on the mouth.
And he had a type. Young, blonde and well-fit. The girl in the deli had been as well.
The word player shot to the front of her mind. He may not look like her ex, but he certainly possessed the charm. And he had a fan-following, just like Dan had. It bothered her immensely when women would blatantly throw themselves at him at political rallies or fundraisers. He always assured her it was part of the role he had to play, but his heart belonged to her.
And it had, of that she had no doubt. Dan was many things but he wasn’t a relationship cheater.
Just a thief, con man, and narcissist.
Once Henry was out of her sight she finally swallowed the liquid in her mouth. It felt like falling icicles were sliding down her throat, freezing the muscles in her neck as they slid down.
With a choked cough, she gingerly placed the glass back down on the bar, fearful she’d spill its contents because her hands shook so violently.
What the heck was that?
“You okay, Layla?”
Kick appeared in front of her, his hands resting on the bar top as concern covered his face.
Once again, her face flooded with heat.
“Yes. Yes, I’m, I’m fine. Sorry.” She shook her head and attempted a smile, hoping it didn’t look too forced. “The soda just went down the wrong way. Sorry.”
His brows tugged together hooding his eyes as he leaned his elbows down on the bar while he continued to study her face.
“Really. I’m fine. No worries.”
He didn’t look all that convinced. She was thankful his attention was diverted when someone called his from down the bar. With a last quizzical eyebrow lift, he nodded, and left her.
She gulped in a breath and tried to settled herself. Despite his denial, Layla suspected Henry had been following her.
But how could he have been, the logical part of her brain countered.
He was obviously a local because everyone appeared to know him, so he couldn’t have tailed her from Florida. No one there except for the District Attorney’s office knew she was leaving. She’d had to get permission to leave the state after her deposition was completed, and she had to inform them where she was heading.
So, not from Florida.
But wait. She sat straight up, her hands palming the bar top. He’d called her by name when he left. How did he know it?
A local reporter, then? Or maybe someone who recognized her from an online article? Her face and name had been plastered all over the local ,state and even the national news – just like Olivia had mentioned. Dan had been arrested while they’d been attending a political fundraiser for the party. Escorted out of a hotel ballroom in a tuxedo and handcuffed was the perfect picture for all the daily papers. Unfortunately, she’d been photographed standing next to him, her name blasted for all to read. After that, daily stories about their life together, their engagement, and her high-end business clients were fodder for more articles.
No news agency had printed the fact she’d been cleared of any involvement and wrongdoing. Layla’s frustration almost made her take out a full-page ad in a national paper citing her innocence. The thought that would just provoke even more gossip killed the notion.
How did he know her name?
Silly girl, the logical part of her chided. Kick had called her by name. Henry heard it, then just repeated. It.
Okay, that made sense. She let go with a calming breath and took a sip of her soda.
Still…there was a tiny bit of her that continued to be wary of him and the situation.
Very rough first draft, hee hee. That’s what editing is for!
Peggy Jaeger, Author 