Read Always For You (Always Love Book 1) Online
Authors: Tawdra Kandle
Always For You (Always Love Book 1) (25 page)
The King Series
Crystal Cove Books
The Perfect Dish Series
12 Christmas Romances to Melt Your Heart
The Always Love Trilogy
The Seredipity Duet
Recipe for Death Series
Always My Own
When Elizabeth Hudson and Trent Wagoner met on a Christmas tree lot in Florida, sparks flew, igniting a fire they both thought would burn for a long time.
The problem with fires is that sometimes people get hurt. In this case, both Elizabeth and Trent end up burnt when an impulsive decision results in long-term repercussions.
Trent, still dealing with the aftermath of a painful situation that impacted two families in his hometown of Burton, struggles with the feelings he has for Elizabeth. He’s not sure that committing to her is a good idea when everything he touches seems to end badly.
Elizabeth took a risk when she moved to Burton for Trent. Now she’s stuck in a job she’s not sure she likes, living with people she doesn’t know, in love with a man who may not be capable of the forever she craves.
When it seems as if hope has died . . . there’s always love.
Elizabeth
I
T PROBABLY WASN’T A GOOD
omen that the first sign of civilization I came across in my brand-new hometown was bar.
But even if seeing it was a bad sign, the Road Block looked like a decent joint. It was huge, a building of raw planks decorated liberally with neon that rose out of the empty fields. The parking lot was pretty packed, even though it wasn’t full-on dark yet on a Thursday night, and the sign near the road announced that it was Ladies Night, with a DJ was spinning tunes and half-priced drinks.
Sounded like my type of place.
I slowed my packed-to-the-gills car, and for a moment, I debated whether stopping at a bar on my way into a town I’d never seen, where I hoped to run a successful law practice, was a good idea. And then the part of me that’d been talking louder and louder of late assured me that one drink wasn’t going to hurt anyone. That sounded about right, so I swung into the parking lot and eased into a spot near the back.
Climbing out, I stretched, feeling the muscles in my back ease when my feet hit the graveled ground. The air was chilly now that the sun was down, and shivering, I reached back into the car for my jacket before I headed for the front of the building.
Inside, the Road Block was a wide open space, with dim lights, plenty of round tables and a large dance floor, which was empty at the moment. Apparently the DJ hadn’t started playing yet. Still, as the parking lot had indicated, the place was fairly crowded, and mostly with women. I guessed Ladies Night was popular in Burton, Georgia.
I found a spot at the bar and eased onto a stool, glancing around the area. Two people were working behind the bar: one was a woman who was probably about twenty years my senior, and the other was an incredibly-well built man, with dark cropped hair. Both of them were moving fast, taking orders, filling them and chatting with the patrons. I waited, biding my time until the man spotted me and moseyed down to my end.
“Hey, thanks for waiting. Sorry, we’re a little busy tonight.” He grinned at me, and I swore my bones melted.
Oh, mama.
“Um, no problem.” I flashed what I hoped was a winsome smile. “Can I just have a glass of white wine? Whatever you’re offering tonight for the special is fine.”
Mr. Incredibly Handsome folded his arms over that huge chest and leaned onto the bar, bringing his face to my level. “We have a nice Pinot, but I really recommend the Riesling. It’s new, it’s from Australia, and my wife absolutely loves it. And she’s got a very discerning palate.”
My heart, which had been skipping along merrily as he spoke, dropped.
Yeah, it figured.
All the good ones were taken. A thread of uneasy guilt wrapped around my stomach, but I pushed it away.
“That sounds perfect. The Riesling, I mean.”
He winked at me. “You got it.” Pulling a wine glass from the rack overhead, he tipped a bottle over the rim, giving me a generous serving. “Here you go.” He studied me for a few seconds. “You’re not from Burton. Just passing through or coming for a visit?”
I grimaced. “Neither. Moving here.”
He raised one eyebrow. “And not very happy about it, apparently. Relax, sugar. We’re a very welcoming community.”
Underneath My Christmas Tree
Elizabeth Hudson has one goal in mind for this holiday season: ignore it. With her complicated family, non-existent love life and demanding job, skipping Christmas seems like the best plan ever.
Until a Christmas tree lot pops up just outside her office, run by the hot and hunky Trent Wagoner.
Trent took this job because he needed to get away from life in his small Georgia hometown. Hauling a truckload of Douglas firs and blue spruces from his cousin’s farm in Michigan to sell in Florida sounded like the perfect plan to find the space he needs and finally get his life on track.
Neither Trent nor Elizabeth planned on the instant sparks of attraction between them. But no matter how hard they fight it, something unexpected—and wonderful—may show up beneath the Christmas tree this year.
A sneak peek of
Underneath My Christmas Tree
from 12 Christmas Romances to Melt Your Heart
Friday before Thanksgiving
Elizabeth
“H
EY! LADY, DIDN’T YOU HEAR
me knocking?”
With no little effort, I pulled my eyes from the computer screen and looked toward my office door, frowning. “What? No. I’m sorry, what do you want?”
For the millionth time, I kicked myself for not hiring a secretary, let alone a receptionist. When Darcy had talked me into moving to Florida to be her law partner, she’d also convinced me that with our computer skills, we didn’t need to hire an office staff yet. Pretty sure she was wrong.
The man standing in the doorway was staring at me as though I’d lost my mind. He was in jeans so faded they were barely blue and so tight they didn’t leave much to my imagination. His gray T-shirt fit pretty damn well, too. But it was the scowl on his face that grabbed my attention.
“Is that your Beamer out there in the parking lot?” He hooked a thumb in the direction of building’s front door.
“Uh, well, yes, if you mean the dark blue one. Oh, God, did you hit it?” Dismay filled me; I didn’t have time to deal with a wrecked car today.
“No, I didn’t hit it.” If it were possible, the guy looked even less friendly. More annoyed. “It’s in the way.”
“I’m sorry, in the way of what now?” My finger twitched over the keyboard. I really needed to get this motion finished.
He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and leaned against the door jam. “We’re trying to set up the tent for the trees, and your car is the only one that wasn’t moved.”
A vague memory sparked in my mind of an email from Logan Holt, reminding all of his building’s tenants to park on the side instead of out front. Was that today?
“Trees?” I blinked at the man in my doorway.
“Christmas trees.” He spoke slowly, as though to help me understand. “We’re selling Christmas trees. We drove all the way down from Michigan, we got a tent to put up and a tractor-trailer full of trees, and your car is the only one in our way. Can you move it?”
I looked down at the computer screen. “Damn, it’s almost four.” Adrenaline surged through my veins, and I fought to keep my hands from shaking with it. “Listen, I’m sorry about that. About the car. But I’m under a time crunch here. I have to have this motion finished and delivered to the judge’s office in forty-five minutes, or I’m screwed. The keys are in my purse, hanging on the hook behind that door. Can you possibly move it for me?”
The man squinted at me. “You want me to go through your handbag and drive your car?”
I tossed up my hands. “Listen, buddy, right now, this motion is all I can think about. Go through my purse. Help yourself to any cash. Check out all my personal stuff. Tampons are in the zippered pocket. Do whatever you need to do, but just let me finish this.”
He stared at me a minute more, and I made a noise in the back of my throat meant to convey exasperation before I turned my attention back to the computer screen. In one part of my distracted consciousness, I heard him muttering to himself as he dug through my purse, but I tuned out all other noise and focused.
Thirty minutes later, I leaned over and tugged the final page from the printer tray. Shrugging into my suit jacket—Judge Gardiner was a stickler for propriety in all things—I grabbed my handbag from the hook behind the door and spent the next two minutes digging through it, looking for my car keys before I remembered.
Damn.
I slammed my office door behind me, not bothering to lock it. I wasn’t going to be gone long, and Crystal Cove wasn’t exactly the crime capital of Florida. Plus Logan and his admin were still upstairs, and the people who worked in the title company office here on the first floor would be around for a while longer.
Sliding sunglasses over my eyes, I stepped outside, and for a moment, I was disoriented: the warmth of late afternoon confirmed that I was still in Florida, but the almost overwhelming scent of pine made me feel like Vermont might’ve moved in next door. Christmas trees were everywhere: under the huge tent that took up most of our parking lot, leaning against the front of our building and some still in the truck. Two men were hefting the trees onto their shoulders and moving them into the tent.
I glanced around, looking for the guy who’d taken my keys. When I finally spotted him in the far corner of the tent, working the stump of a six-footer into the square of a makeshift stand, I practically sprinted over to him.
“Hey. I need my keys.” I thrust out of my hand, as though he might simply deposit them there.
He grunted and looked at me over his shoulder, that same frown from earlier still wrinkling his forehead. “Huh? What’re you talking about? Joe brought you back your keys.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know who Joe is, but no one returned them. And I’m in a hurry. I need to get—”
“Yeah, yeah, to the courthouse.” He gave the tree a small shake, testing its stability, I guessed, and then pushed himself to stand. I realized he was a good head taller than me. “I remember. I moved your car, and then I gave Joe the keys and told him to run them back inside to you.”
“He didn’t.” Nervous tension made me feel like I was about to jump out of my skin, and I shifted my weight from foot to foot.
“Are you sure? I mean, you were pretty much zoned out when I came in, so maybe he dropped them on your desk and you didn’t even notice.”
A moment of doubt flittered over me, but I shook my head. “No, I would’ve seen him. And the keys weren’t there.”
I didn’t think they were, anyway.
“Well, hell.” He scowled even more, which I hadn’t thought was possible. “He must’ve gotten sidetracked and forgot.”
“Okay, fine. It happens. I get it. Where’s Joe now? I’ll just find him, get the keys and be out of your way.” I took a step backwards, ready to dart away.
“Shit.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Joe just ran over to check us all in at the motel. He won’t be back for at least twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour.”
I felt the familiar and maddening prickle of tears at the back of my eyes. Crying when I was angry or frustrated wasn’t anything I could control, and it pissed the hell out of me when it happened.
I turned my head, but not fast enough that he didn’t see my face. “Hey, hey. Don’t start that. It’s okay. I’ll, ah . . .” He shoved one hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Here. Take my truck. It’s parked right over there.” Pointing to the far edge of the parking lot, he picked up my hand and closed my fingers around a small set of keys.
“Are you sure?” I wanted to be polite, to do the typical oh-no-I-couldn’t-possibly-impose deal, but in the back of my head, all I could hear was a loudly ticking clock.
“Yeah. Just don’t lock the driver’s side door, because it doesn’t work. Oh, and you drive stick, right?”
My heart sank. “No. I mean, in theory I know how—I had a boyfriend once who—but no. I don’t think I can.”
The guy muttered something dark under his breath. “Fine. Come on.” He snatched the keys out of my hand and strode away, leaving me to scurry after him.
“Hey, hold up!” I paused just long enough to kick off my heels, scoop them up and run over the asphalt, hissing as the small pebbles bit into my tender feet. “Are you sure you don’t mind—”
“Do you have another solution? I don’t know where your courthouse is, but unless you can run there, I’d say you need me.” He stopped at the passenger side of the old blue truck and wrenched open the door. When he caught sight of me wincing my way toward him, his eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head. “Yeah, looks like the running idea isn’t going to work. Get in.”