Read Dangerous: A Seaside Cove Romance Online
Authors: Cora Davies
Dangerous: A Seaside Cove Romance
DANGEROUS
BY
CORA DAVIES
Copyright © 2016 by Cora Davies
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For my family.
Out of Hollywood Romance Series
Role of a Lifetime
Hailey and Eric’s story
Swept Away, Jon and Eva’s story Coming 2017
Seaside Cove Romance Series
A Christmas Affair Jack and Molly’s
Story
Dangerous
Eli and Claire’s story
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“You are fettered," said Scrooge, trembling. "Tell me why?"
"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.”
-
Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
I am so excited for you to meet Claire and Eli. Claire embodies the spirit and story of many women I know, veterans and civilians alike, while Eli is a man born in the wrong family, struggling to find his way out. I hope you find their story of second chances and wonderful possibilities inspiring.
Did you know?
Reviews are like food for the indie artist’s soul. Even a one sentence review is appreciated by indie authors more than you will ever know. Especially starving writers like myself.
If you enjoy your time with Claire and Eli, I would love if you could take a minute and leave an
honest
review on
Amazon
when you’re all done. I’ll leave you the link at the end of the book too!
Stay tuned at the end for a six-chapter preview of my romance novel, A Christmas Affair: A Seaside Cove Romance.
Enjoy your time here with Hailey and Eric,
Cora Davies
Eli was born to work on engines and behind the brewery counter. His life? Filled with contentment. He did not need to sit in boring lectures, taking notes.
Eli pictured himself in an old cartoon facing the choice between right and wrong. A devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Only, instead of a devil, it was his dad. "You're not cut out for school, son. Go home, drink a beer. Take the night off. If you go in there, you'll only fail."
Instead of an angel, his best friends Jack and Molly cheered him on, halos above their heads. Well, Jack pointed towards the building, threatening to kick Eli's ass if he left without going inside. Jack's fiancée Molly was doing all the cheering.
Molly all but held his hand during online registration. She rearranged the schedule to afford Eli two nights off a week. She even bought his damn notebooks and pens.
Eli edged his way into a parking spot and killed the engine. Was there a real reason he had to go inside? What would a piece of paper prove?
Eli drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the Led Zeppelin song on the radio. At his father's insistence, Eli had dropped out of high school during junior year to get his GED. Dunlan men were grease monkeys. Three years ago, Eli was content to spend the rest of his life working in the family garage.
Everything changed when his father died. He left his business and personal finances a mess. Not until Eli had to make sense of all the money flowing in and out, did he remember he loved numbers. That understanding of numbers helped him invest and save enough money to buy into the brewery with Jack. The partnership proved to be the best decision of his life.
When Jack and Molly got engaged, she started helping out with the business end of the brewery, leaving Eli with free time. At first, she spent months pushing him to go on a blind date with her best friend's sister.
"You guys are perfect for each other!" Molly insisted, but Eli knew Rachel well enough to know that anyone related to her had
wrong woman
written all over her.
His refusal to go out with Rachel's sister set Molly on her latest project, the
get Eli back to school project
. The first Dunlan to earn a college degree - if he made it out of the truck.
Sitting in the parking lot, he realized the decision had been stupid. Eli should have taken a quick course online. He did not belong there. He watched students walk inside; they were all so young. Most, probably fresh out of high school. The rest of their lives stretched out in front of them, and nowhere to go but up.
A boy wearing a letterman's jacket walked past his truck; he played football for Seaside Cove High School. I'm supposed to g
o in there and take classes with kids still in high school?
No, there was no way. He was leaving. Eli turned the key. He had made the effort. He put the truck in gear to drive through the vacant space in front of him. Before he pulled forward, a red car pulled into the spot, slamming to a halt. It sat in front of him like a big red stop sign.
The driver leaned over the passenger seat searching for something on the floor. Her face hid behind a sea of thick black hair as she tossed paper after paper into the backseat. She sat up, shaking an orange sheet that looked like a course schedule. Eli spotted two carseats in her back seat.
Okay. Maybe not everyone was in high school.
The woman tripped out of her car, catching herself on the side-view mirror of the truck next to her. Eli chuckled and ran his fingers through his beard. She let go of the mirror and nervously glanced around the parking lot; her eyes caught Eli's. She turned away, and her cheeks went pink.
She was gorgeous, in that so-called natural way that women spent an hour to perfect every morning. But she was closer to his late twenties than anyone else he had seen around there. He glanced back to the carseats again. If this mom enrolled at college, he certainly could do it.
He would walk in with her. If nothing else, she seemed like a mini disaster who would draw attention away from him. He pulled his keys out of the ignition, took a deep breath and climbed out of the truck.
The woman was leaning into the backseat of her car -- stuffing things into a brown paper bag -- by the time Eli made it to the front of his truck. Yep, she was a disaster.
"I won't tell anyone if you won't," he said, hoping he conveyed humor. The startled woman, stood straight and hit her head on the doorframe. Eli winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you; I just meant I wouldn't tell about how you grabbed this guy's truck."
The woman stood, rubbing her head. Her deep muddy brown eyes reminded him of puddles out in the woods after a rainstorm. He blinked, and studied the dent in the bumper of her car instead.
"I'm not really this clumsy, it's just, you know... things happening in threes..." Her bag started to rip, and Eli reached out, too late. The brown bag split down the center, textbooks and snacks spilling onto the ground. "See? Today's not working for me."
Eli jogged around the car to help her collect her items. He laid flat against the concrete and reached under her car for a few rolling pencils. By the time he stood back up, she was stuffing everything into an old worn out messenger bag: textbooks, pencils, loose paper, a smashed sandwich and a can of Pepsi. Eli reached to slide the pencils into the bag, but she turned at the same time and the diaper bag hit the pencils out of his hand.
They rolled back under the car again and Eli squatted to grab them, but she put her hand out to stop him.
"No, I'll get them," she said, reaching under the car. Her shirt shifted and a long scar on her lower back caught his eye. He wondered what had caused it.
"You look a lot more prepared than me," he said, aware of the sheepish grin spreading on his face but unable to do anything about it. She stood back up, slipping her pencils into her bag. She smelled like coffee, lavender and Cheerios. Eli did not think he had ever smelled a more intoxicating combination. She organized the contents of her bag.
"I'm Eli," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm glad to see another adult here."
She slung the bag over her shoulder. When he had first seen her step out of her vehicle, he assumed she had plastered her face with makeup because she looked stunning, even as she tripped over nothing. But now that he was close, he decided she wore no makeup. Instead of overly put together, there was a streak of white beside her eye. Flour? She stuck out her hand, and he took it, surprised and impressed to find she had a strong and unapologetic handshake.
"I'm Claire. I'm making a go at being an adult, but I don't think I'm successful at it," she said, smiling. Eli forgot every hesitation about going inside the building. "Everyone here looks like they're still in high school! Please tell me you're another student and not a teacher."
"Student." Eli gestured to the building with his free hand. "Shall we?"
Claire nodded, dropping her hand to her side. Eli's skin tingled where her hand had just been.
The stupid bag slapped against her hip, rattling. She was sure she had loose Cheerios at the bottom.
Claire should have brought her backpack. The plain black one -- not the one with rainbow kittens. She thought she spotted the bag the night before, sitting in the backyard, half filled with mud and Tonka trucks. She pretended like she didn't see it, because for once, she did not want to be the mean parent.
Then, to make things worse, she had to step out of her car -- no,
fall
out of her car -- in front of the handsome bartender from the Bluffs Brewery. She had been up to the brewery a few times with her sister, Rachel. She saw Eli behind the counter, but never talked to him. Always sending Rachel to get their drinks. Eli was far too handsome, very masculine with thick dark hair, a trimmed full beard and tattoos running up his large arms. Claire was too shy to order a drink from him.
Eyes up front, Claire. Watch where you're walking before you make an ass out of yourself again.
She tore her eyes away from his arms, hidden by a blue flannel jacket, just in time to see the stairs appear. Claire narrowly avoided falling yet again.
"Dangerous," she said under her breath. Though tripping up the stairs because she did not take her eyes off of his body was probably not the danger her sister had meant.
"He's hot but dangerous as hell," Rachel said, rolling her eyes and plopping a drink in front of Claire the last time they had been at the brewery.
Claire nodded, hoping she was conveying cool ambivalence. She could tell Eli did not like Rachel too much by his posture when Rachel bought their drinks.
She did not hold it against him. Rachel was too much for most people. Her sister had always been high maintenance, even more so since breaking up with her married boyfriend a few years ago and attended counseling afterwards. Her shrink was under the impression Rachel did not put herself first often. He could not have been further from the truth.
Eli opened the door for her and Claire smiled up at him. He was studying the hall in front of them.
Why would he be looking at you? He's just holding the door open because he is afraid you'll walk into it if he doesn't.
"Thank you," she said, stepping into the busy hallway. Claire's eyes darted around automatically for a familiar face. Working at the bakery in the only grocery store in Seaside Cove meant she recognized most people, even if she was not familiar to them. It was funny how a white uniform and a hairnet made a person invisible.
Not a single familiar face. Except for Eli's ruggedly handsome one, which she was busy avoiding. She saw the tattoos peeking out of his sleeves and wondered how far they went up?
She forced herself to focus. School. Not men. What the hell was wrong with her? Was she going into heat?
She knew exactly what was wrong with her. Rachel came over last night with wine, giving her the
time to get back out there
speech.
"I'm just saying. You aren't getting any younger," Rachel said, lazily draping her legs over armchair's side and kicking off her shoes.
"Neither are you," Claire said, glaring at Rachel's heels as they thumped onto the carpet. Why did Rachel even need shoes that added inches to her already long legs? Claire was the short one in the family, she deserved heels. Too bad Claire never mastered walking in anything but flats.
"
I
didn't stretch everything out by having kids," Rachel said, drink in hand, tongue sticking out. Claire forced a laugh, but secretly pulled at bits of her skin to see how far they stretched.
Standing in a hallway full of young and beautiful women with perfectly applied makeup, perky boobs and flawless bodies, Claire felt like she had been dropped there as a social experiment. Eli would leave her side soon enough, and would forget all about her as she continued to have the most accident-prone day of her life.
"Is this your first day, too?" Eli asked, studying his class schedule. They stopped next to a classroom and Eli touched a number on the side of the door. "These room numbers are so confusing. They don't seem to be in any kind of order."
"I've only been in online classes so far," Claire said. "But, I've had to drop stuff off here before; so if I recognize the number, maybe I can point you in the right direction?"
She felt the half-lie slip off her tongue with ease. She was used to lying about her anxiety. At least that time, it was not an entire lie. She
had
been to the school to drop off paperwork before, but only to the front office.
Claire spent that afternoon studying the map of the campus. She did not do getting lost in public.
"If it's not too much trouble." Eli handed Claire his list, and Claire tore her eyes from the hallway to look at his face. Deep gray eyes twinkled under the gross fluorescent bulbs. Eli made cheap city lighting look good.
She turned to his schedule and made a show of furrowing her eyebrows as though she was figuring out how to direct him to his classes. She felt as though a frog leapt inside her stomach when she saw they had two classes together.
"I have this first one with you tonight," she said, handing him back the paper. "Just follow me, and I can point out your other classroom when we pass it."
Walking down the hall with Eli following close behind her, she saw a few women - and if she was not mistaken, men too - glancing at them as they walked by. Eli sure drew attention.
Intro to visual arts was the class Claire had been most excited about, her little reward for reaching her final semester of college. She felt the excitement already slipping away.
Even as she looked forward to taking the class, Claire knew that she would be self-conscious with other people seeing her serious lack of artistic ability. But, for Eli to see her fail at drawing something as simple as... basic stick figures? She planned to pick a seat as far from him as possible.
Claire reached for the classroom door handle, but Eli pulled it open before she got to it. "Allow me."
Eli stood to the side. She took in a breath, raised her right foot and paused. She took in all the canvases, easels, stools and equipment set up in a large circle. The walls were covered in paintings, some just astonishing, and some the types of artwork Claire never understood. The kind people paid lots of money for.
"This was a stupid idea," she said, as a line of sweat started at her hairline.
"What was a stupid idea?" Eli asked, close to her ear. How did she forget it was right behind her? She jumped, her still raised foot hitting the floor.
"This. I can't draw. I don't know what I was thinking signing up for this class," she said.
"If I can do this, you can do this." Eli placed his hands against her shoulder blades and nudged her, but her feet still did not move. Frightened, even with Eli's large and in charge hands on her back. His hands, probably used to getting what they wanted, and right now they wanted her out of his way. "I know we've just met, but do I need to carry you in?"
His statement startled her and Claire launched herself into the room. Her eyes darted to find the seat furthest from the front of the classroom.
The floor was paint splattered. Good, because with the day she was having, it would be less noticeable when she spilled a bottle of paint on the floor.
The easels each had a piece of white paper taped to them and small pedestals of paint resting nearby. A bowl of fruit was the center of attention for the circle of easels.
"Couldn't get anymore stereotypical," Eli said, sitting next to her.
"Stereotypical?" she asked. Was he calling her stereotypical? More importantly, why was he sitting next to her? She wanted to melt into the floor.
Eli picked up a paintbrush in his hand and twirled it between his fingers. "The bowl of fruit. It's always a bowl of fruit."
"Oh." Relieved, a single laugh burst out of her mouth.
The anxiety already ebbed. The hardest part was always finding the courage to step into a room, answer the phone, turn on the car. Once she was in motion, the anxiety faded away. Claire was still learning to control the anxiety --a parting gift from her divorce.
A short woman with creamy skin and gray hair appeared at the center of the room. She rearranged the fruit in the bowl before clapping her hands twice to silence them all and smiled.
"I'm Taliah, and welcome to Intro to Visual Art," she said, lifting her arms and spinning around in a quick circle. Her arms were covered with brightly colored bangles, clanking against each other as she moved her arms. She spoke for the next few minutes about the course. Claire joined in on the collective sigh of relief when Taliah announced that attendance, timeliness and dedication were keys to a good grade -- not natural talent.
Soon it was time to create the bowl of fruit, with no further instruction from Taliah than, "Feel the painting come to life."
Claire looked around. A few of her classmates began with paint on the canvas, but most were sketching crude shapes. She dug through her bag for a pencil. No way she would start painting without tracing first. She noticed Eli was already confidently laying out shapes with the paint, no penciled in drawing. He seemed to be a natural.
"You're really good at this," Claire whispered, after a few minutes. The bowl already on his paper, complete with the small chip in the rim and a finger-stain on the front of the porcelain.
"It keeps me out of trouble," he muttered, and she noticed that his cheeks reddened.
Embarrassed when complimented, good to know.
Was Eli not all ego like most devastatingly attractive men? Eli glanced at Claire's painting, and she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. He said nothing.
"I don't know what I'm doing; I thought she was going to stand here and teach us step by step. You know, like in those wine and painting studios?" Claire knew she sounded flustered and turned back to the canvas. Her mouth felt dry from just the few words she had spoken.
She blamed it on the bad day she was having, she did not usually have such a difficult time talking to men. Hell, she had been in the Air Force; men vastly outnumbered the women at work every single day.
It was Eli. He was doing something to her with his stupid gray eyes. He had an intense gaze, and it was discomforting. She decided she would imagine he had webbed toes. Yes, webbed toes would make him seem more normal than the tattooed Adonis he was.
"You're doing fine," Eli said, a hint of humor in his voice as an unfortunate lemon appeared on Claire's paper. "What are you in for?"
"In?"
"School. Are you just taking a few classes? Or getting a degree?" Eli blew on his painting, drying what he had done so far. She imagined his lips doing other things.
Webbed feet.
"Associates in Early Childhood. I want to be a preschool teacher," Claire said.
"Preschool." A mischievous glint passed through Eli's eyes, and he pointed to Claire's painting with his brush. "I'd say you're right on track then."
The joke was so unexpected, she could not help herself. She laughed and playfully punched Eli in the arm and Eli laughed softly. Claire felt solid muscle under that flannel shirt, and she was sure his muscles tightened when she touched him. Rachel's voice rang through her head.
Time to get back out there.
"Okay, good. My joke could have gone one of two ways, and I'm glad I don't have a black eye right now," Eli teased. The paint separated from his bristled and the water turned green as he swirled the brush around in his glass of water. "Seriously though, teaching is a very noble profession. More noble than anything I've ever done. I'm not much of a kid person myself, I guess." Eli shrugged. Claire no longer had to imagine webbed feet. "Not that there is anything wrong with... hey, I stuck my foot in mouth. I noticed you have carseats..."
"Two kids. Ella is six and Robby is three." Claire stabbed her paintbrush into the red paint a little too hard. The kids would spend so much more time with their father over the next few months while she finished school. She shoved the guilt away every day. Some days it stayed away, and some days it came back. But even when she was successful, Robert found a way to lay the guilt trip on her, just like he had earlier that evening when she dropped the kids off at his apartment.
"That's cool. Your husband watches them while you go to class?" Eli asked. Claire's nose wrinkled, thinking about Robert.
"Their dad is watching them." Claire said. She did not want to talk about Robert tonight. He acted as if he was doing her the world's hugest favor by watching his own children at drop off. "What are you going to school for?"
"I'm giving a semester a go. If it works out, accounting. If it doesn't work out, at least I'll have this painting of a bowl of fruit."
"Accounting? Numbers, math... ouch," Claire said, screwing up her face. A weird square apple formed on the paper in front of her.