Just a Couple Ex's Blindsided
Read Just a Couple Ex's Blindsided Online
Authors: S. Anders
Tags: #interracial romance, #small town romance, #Contemporary Romance, #Multicultural Romance
Just a Couple Ex’s Blindsided
By S. Anders
This book is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book maybe be reproduced, scanned, or printed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Copyright © 2012 by S. Anders. All rights reserved.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following word marks mentioned in this work of fiction. Song title
Ave Maria
; Mercedes; Roadster; SUV.
Just a Couple Ex’s Series:
Just a Couple Ex’s Blindsided
Just a Couple Ex’s Exposed
Just a Couple Ex’s Caught
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Just a Couple Ex’s Caught | S. Anders | (Read an Excerpt)(Standalone novel) (Available soon)
Just a Couple Ex’s Exposed (read excerpt) (Standalone novel) | (available now) | By S. Anders
L
iv Darwin’s gaze was drawn to the red Mercedes Roadster like the cherry on top of a sundae. Her husband’s expensive car stood out in their small town, so she could hardly drive by Savvi’s Rental Wear without noticing the crimson colored Roadster parked along the side of the building. It was toward the back, and there wasn't a business near it the sports car could be parked to access besides the rental business.
“Andrew wouldn't be caught wearing rental clothes,” Liv mused, tugging on a strand of her hair as she drove with one hand. Maybe there was something wrong, like his luxury car had broken down. Liv turned her more serviceable SUV at the next right. She was curious enough to go back, because she was surprised her husband was in town.
He’d been gone over two days this time. Investments again, he’d said. He was going to Houston more every month. She wondered why, worrying over it. So perhaps that was the reason she’d turned back toward his car.
Being practical, she pulled into the parking lot in front of Savvi’s. She’d never been in the store but surely her husband was inside. Andrew wasn’t the type of man to be out back. He came from one of the richest families in town. Old banking money and she’d been so in love with him when they’d married she’d even signed a prenuptial.
They’d been young — she’d been younger by two years, and they were in love. That wasn't the reason they’d married so young and impetuously. No, it had been a pregnancy scare. A baby, in the end, she hadn't carried to term. She’d loved him besides the baby, not caring back then about the money.
Liv thought Andrew didn't either and it was his grandmother who’d insisted on the prenuptial. But in the years since, she’d discovered Andrew didn’t share “his” money, so she guessed the prenuptial had been partially his idea too.
She wondered why she would think about such things so long past. They’d been married seven years and she had her own money from a rose farm she’d inherited from her grandmother. She had worked hard to keep it a viable business, and it had thrived since she’d owned it.
Liv turned the key off on her SUV. She’d been going to order the spring fertilizer when she’d spotted Andrew’s sports car. Bypassing her cell phone on the console, she reached over and grabbed her linen satchel purse. Telling herself it was silly to call Andrew when she could pop in the store and surprise him, so she grabbed her purse and then cell. She started conjuring a plan that would push her morning errands aside so she could suggest they go to breakfast, once she found him.
A smile lifted her lips as she stepped out of her car. She closed the car door and looked down at her outfit. Darn. She was dressed for work and not for breakfast, she thought, smoothing down her jeans, and then fiddling with the pink shell sweater she was wearing. Andrew was picky about such things. He would complain that she wasn't dressed well enough to have breakfast at his club on an exclusive golf course, which was the only place Andrew wanted to eat out anymore.
Her smile faded. Maybe she could persuade him to overlook his social conditions just this once. Liv looked up at the display windows of Savvi’s. The displays were quite ingenious, showing the mannequins dressed in luxurious men's clothing, from suits to tuxedos, while they posed at different depicted events. There was a beautiful table set by one statuesque, bronze manikin wearing an inky black tailored suit. Then another ivory colored male manikin wore a tux surrounded by a colorful wedding party.
Liv thought the people who owned Savvi’s needed all the help they could get trying to drive traffic to their store. It wasn’t near anything, except a questionable bikers’ bar across the street. The epicenter of the town was still two miles down the main highway.
She pressed her hand to the front door, pushing it open to enter the shop, and she was greeted with a Chopin aria playing quietly in the background. Her eyes naturally swept the store looking for Andrew’s highlighted brown hair. He was tall and she should have been able to catch sight of him right away.
A moment later, a frown pulled her lips, then her gaze settled on an attractive black man arranging papers behind a sleek, monochrome counter. The structure was arched in a half circle and she took it for the cash register area as she walked toward it. Andrew wasn’t in the store that she could see.
Dark brown eyes, the color of rich cappuccino, turned toward her. Liv had to catch her breath, surreptitiously trying to hide the unexpected effect the man had on her. He was very male and
very
attractive. She couldn't remember the last time any man in their small town had caught her feminine appreciation ... because women looked too.
What she would like having is long minutes to really look at him, without him knowing it, but an embarrassing blush heated her cheeks, flustering her. Trying to cover it, she smiled, and then blurted, “I think my husband must be in the fitting rooms. I can see his car parked on the side of your store.”
She tore her anxious gaze away, not quite missing the handsome clerk’s puzzled look as she scanned the store again. “I’m Liv Dawson. I didn't really realize Andrew would be here today,” she muttered.
Axel tried to drag his mind around what the pretty lady was saying as he straightened from his paperwork. She thought her husband was in his shop? That was obvious. Yet no one was there except for him.
Ah. He turned, glancing at the entryway into the backroom. His wife Kiki had been there earlier. Kiki had wanted to look at a delivery of prom dresses she’d ordered over his objections.
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe young girls around the area wouldn’t rent the dresses — it was Kiki’s taste in the dresses she’d bought that irritated him.
He wanted to frown, but instead he smiled, “I’m Axel Savvi the owner, Mrs. Dawson, and no one’s been in the front of the store this morning. But let me check out back, because my wife was here earlier.”
Liv Dawson’s clear gray eyes centered on him. He’d not missed her blush from earlier or the quick glance she’d moved across his chest. He knew feminine appreciation when he saw it and he couldn’t say that wasn’t part of the reason he kept physically fit. He was ex-marine, but he could have let that build go in the four years since he’d been out of the military.
“Thanks,” she said. Her cool, elegant features showing some puzzlement and worry.
Yeah, he wondered too. He didn’t know Kiki knew an Andrew Dawson. A weird feeling quirked through him. “I’ll be right back.”
Axel pushed through the doors to the backroom. He’d been back there ten minutes ago and he was certain Kiki was gone. But there were places he could have missed her; it was a large space and half the time Kiki didn’t bother to say goodbye to him when she left.
He looked by the prom dresses, just shaking his head at a
strapless one. It was vivid lime-green with a décolletage so low the mothers around town would be dragging their little girls to the preacher, to be saved, if they ever saw them in it. But no Kiki. When he moved further into the backroom, he started to become more aware of what not finding her meant.
Then he cussed, hitting the side door of the building with an overthrown slap of his fist as he leaned out and he saw a sleek red Roadster. Obviously, it was Liv Dawson’s husband’s car and a very expensive car. He turned his gaze to look at the only place out back that his wife’s Mustang convertible should be parked, beside his car. But it was gone.
“She wouldn’t,” he muttered. “
Not
right in front of me like this.”
Cheating.
The word swamped his brain. His wife was many things, with many of them being not pleasant, yet he’d never felt that he had to worry about infidelity. What bothered him nearly as much was if Liv Dawson hadn’t stopped in the store he’d never have discovered what might be so obviously going on right in front of him. He could console himself with the fact he was immersed in keeping his business afloat, for his wife’s comfort, but really how cuckolded did this make him look?
“Man, please tell me Liv Dawson’s husband sells
anything
Kiki would want to buy, and this is all just me jumping to conclusions.”
The problem was he had a hard time thinking what else it might be. Kiki and Andrew Dawson
had
to be out in Kiki’s car together, didn’t they? What other explanation could there be?
Liv expected to see Andrew emerging from the backroom of the store, however when she saw the very muscular Mr. Savvi instead, her heartbeat did a strange flip. She looked past Mr. Savvi, expecting his wife, and then she looked back at him.
“I don’t understand...” she started to say.
“Your husband must sell something that my wife Kiki wants to buy,” he began, with their words mingling.
Liv turned away from him, feeling her nerves start to sing as she clutched her purse. Andrew didn’t sell anything. He’d never sell anything. Not like Mr. Savvi meant. But she could see on the smooth brown features of Mr. Savvi’s strong face that he was thinking the same thing that had just slammed into her brain. A horrible thought that made her gasp.
She felt a strong hand on her elbow. “Don’t faint on me.” His voice was a deep bass and it was worried.
“They must know each other,” she whispered, wanting to lean into him, but keeping her body rigid. “School?” she tried.
“My wife’s not from here. She’s from Miami and she’s been a housewife for four years now.”
Liv nearly crumbled hearing his wife was not from there, because all of Andrew’s schooling had been in Texas at private schools and colleges, of course.
He couldn’t be cheating.
Could
he?
“Where a-are they?” she stammered. “His car is here.”
“You need to sit down, you’re shaking,” Axel Savvi advised her. Then he pulled her toward the counter with a gentle but firm hand. She was so close she could smell his subtle cologne. It was a mouthwatering scent and it distracted her oncoming panic attack by seconds. “They’d have to be in Kiki’s Mustang,” he finished with his voice warming her ear as he pulled out a chair and he bent forward, guiding her into it.
Then he straightened and her gaze traveled up over his dark blue sweater that was tight against his broad chest, past his square jaw, and into his downturned and concerned gaze. That close, she could see amber spikes in his brown eyes.
“I’ll be all right,” she assured him as their gazes tangled.
The facts they were both trying to discredit passed between them and she realize he was holding his anger under control. That anger made her realized he believed their spouses
were
having an affair together. What did that make them ... him and her? Cheated in-laws?
“There must be a reasonable explanation.” Axel Savvi rubbed his wide hand over his skull-cropped jet black hair.
Her eyes followed the movement, as she tried, then failed to breathe deeper.
Damn. Damn.
She couldn’t have a stupid panic attack right in front of him.
“Yes,” she tried to squeak past her closed throat.
“Put your head down,” Axel ordered abruptly, not liking the wheeze or paleness coming over Liv Dawson’s delicate features. He’d been a medic for half his military career. With brisk efficiency he grasped the back of Liv’s slender neck. He pushed gently. The gesture enforcing she follow his advice. “You're hyperventilating. Put your head between your legs and try to breathe as deep as you can.”