Her_Royal_Player__Reunited__Boo_-_Veronica_Foxwell.pdf

(347 KB) Pobierz
Her Royal Player: Reunited
Copyright © 2016 Veronica Foxwell
All rights reserved.
Published by Brick House Press
No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior
written permission of the copyright owner.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade
or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the
publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that
in which it is published and without a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no
circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and
situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is
unintentional and co-incidental. [Remove this bit if your book is
nonfiction. If it’s a memoir, you may like to insert: Some names and
identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of
individuals.
Cover Photography from Shutterstock.com
Izzy
Ben.
In England.
In Cambridge.
The thought of him arriving there sizzled through me, and I couldn’t quite work out if it was anger
— or something else entirely.
The very place I had come to get away from him. The single place I thought he would never follow
me, would never find me. I had looked at it like it was my refuge. And then I found myself here. Like this.
The man I didn’t have any interest in remembering, in getting caught up in what we had once had and how
badly it had ended. He was showing up on my doorstep, under the pretenses that he wanted to go back and
fix what had happened between us.
It was my worst case scenario. Especially after everything that had happened with Grant.
Even thinking his name sent my heart skittering. I knew I should have never let things get to where
they had. I knew it was a mistake to start anything with him. It had started that moment at the pub. If only I
had squelched it then, but I’d let it grow to this thing I had no control over.
Just in time for Ben to decide I was worth another try.
Now Grant was just one more complication. Not only did I have to deal with Ben and all the
memories he drudged up, all those feelings he brought back with him — I also had to deal with Grant, and
everything he was and wasn’t to me.
It would be the understatement of the year to say this whole thing was a far cry from how I thought
my time in England would be.
Once I started thinking about him, I couldn’t seem to stop. Perfect Grant with that lopsided smile
and those twinkling eyes. It was like a damn black hole. I couldn’t help but get sucked in.
I had told myself I didn’t want anything to happen with him. I had tried to convince myself that
there wasn’t anything there at all. That he was just another man I was spending my time with, wasting my
time with.
But now here I was, thinking about how my ex-boyfriend — who had crushed everything I thought I
was, who had left me a battered, pulverized little pulp of the self I used to be — was infringing on my
time with Grant.
Since that night in the feed room and since I’d gotten that email from Ben, I had gone even more out
of my way to avoid Grant. He was trouble, and I knew it. Not in that way where I thought bad things might
happen if we spent time together, but in that way where I knew if I let things keep happening with him,
there was going to be no turning back. We’d barely even started and I already couldn’t stop myself from
wanting him.
But it was hard to stay away. Harder even than I had thought it would be. He was everywhere I
wanted to be. Figuratively and literally. I couldn’t help but wonder how I had managed to keep our paths
from crossing for as long as I had.
I couldn’t escape to the barn for peace, like I would have liked to do. That little sanctuary was no
longer an option for me — nothing more than one more place I might run into him, where I might have the
kind of encounter that would leave me breathless and angst-ridden all over again.
And even if I could have, I couldn’t pass that little red mare’s stall, I couldn’t slip in and out of the
feed room, without imagining his hands on me, without remembering the way his mouth felt on mine and
his hands felt on my body.
It was a downright dangerous and slippery slope. Because if it happened again, I knew I was going
to be right back in the thick of it, lost in everything that Grant was.
In everything I wanted him to be to me.
I’d all but abandoned my expected responsibilities at the barn.
Or, I had, anyway, until that favorite mare of Grant’s had gotten fresh as she was being led out of
her stall and had slammed Robby into the door, shattering his elbow and effectively leaving us short
staffed.
Which meant, whether I liked it or not, I could no longer pawn off my work times to someone else
when I didn’t want to come face to face with Grant.
I couldn’t help but feel like that horse had been in on the whole damn thing.
I also couldn’t help but notice how the days were slipping by, how the 28
th
was going to be there
before I knew it — bringing Ben with it.
I wasn’t ready. I knew it with the kind of certainly I couldn’t shake. I could go on pretending like it
wasn’t going to happen, or like there was going to be some way I would be able to circumnavigate the
whole thing.
But what good would that do me? In the end I knew he was going to show up, and I knew he wasn’t
going to want to take no for an answer.
And I wasn’t sure what I was going to be able to give him.
Grant
I hadn’t been able to get Izzy out of my head.
Sure, I thought she had been fine when I spotted her moving through the aisles at the barn. I had a
soft spot for girls in ponytails and faded blue jeans. Bonus points if the scuffs on the paddock boots were
genuine, I suppose.
But she had downright ruined me.
Before Izzy, I could go out with a different girl every night of the week and not bat an eye. I didn’t
owe anyone anything, and even if they expected me to behave a certain way, that didn’t influence me.
I went right on doing whatever felt like the right thing to me.
Only this time, the right thing felt like whatever it meant to keep Izzy in the picture, to keep her
close to me. Which was, basically, the opposite of everything else that had ever happened in my life.
And she had made it painfully clear I wasn’t something she was interested in.
I considered the coffee. I thought about catching her when I knew she would be alone, forcing her
to have a conversation about it. I would say we were two functional adults and we had to talk about it, but
the truth was I just needed the answers. I wanted to know why.
I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to change the way things were.
I didn’t want her to know that, of course, but that was what it really boiled down to.
But as much as I wanted those things, I couldn’t stand the thought of making her do something she
didn’t want to, of pushing her into a conversation that was only going to leave her feeling uncomfortable.
So, I guess, what I really wanted, then, was for her to want to tell me those things.
Was for her to want the very same things I did.
And if that wasn’t to be, then at the very least, she could put me out of my damn misery.
I woke on Charles’ couch, the light blinding.
I should know better than to drink with him. Like I hadn’t seen Izzy and a dozen others fall prey to
him and his overzealous drink proportions.
But sometimes, you make choices you can’t help but second guess later. I’ve discovered that those
times frequently coincide with times where you’re feeling so shitty, the only real solution seems to be to
drink more.
My head was throbbing. What little light there was coming through the curtain was overwhelming,
and I squinted against it, wanting to bury my face in my arm, in the crook of the sofa, anywhere where I
would be able to block out the damn light, and if I were lucky, the residue from last night might go with it.
But that was never going to happen. Because I might have had too much to drink, but I wasn’t the
kind to black out, and I remembered in fine detail every one of those poor choices I had made.
The first of those, had been that I’d gone off half-cocked the night before an early morning practice,
which meant I had just about forty-five minutes to shower, dress, manage this headache, and arrive back at
the barn.
The second of those, perhaps even more glaring than the first, had been the incredible leggy blonde
I had let sidle up against me, run her hands over my arms, her fingers tease along the buckle of my belt as

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika:

Zgłoś jeśli naruszono regulamin