Running Into Love
Until Ashlyn
Until Him Series
Until Jax
Until Sage
Shooting Stars Series
Fighting to Breathe
Wide-Open Spaces
Alpha Law CA ROSE
Justified
Liability
Verdict (Coming Soon)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2017 Aurora Rose Reynolds
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542046800
ISBN-10: 1542046807
Cover design by Letitia Hasser
To my son and husband.
Contents
Chapter 1 TROUBLE!
Chapter 2 TOTALLY READ THAT WRONG
Chapter 3 FLUSTERED
Chapter 4 IT’S MY BIRTHDAY—I’LL CRY IF I WANT TO
Chapter 5 A KISS IS JUST A KISS, RIGHT?
Chapter 6 JUST ADD THAT TO THE LIST
Chapter 7 BREAKFAST WITH CRAZY PEOPLE, AKA MY FAMILY
Chapter 8 THE GOOD PART
Chapter 9 WAY TOO FAST
Chapter 10 SURPRISE . . . NOT SO MUCH
Chapter 11 WHERE ARE THE GIBLETS? WHAT THE HELL ARE GIBLETS?
Chapter 12 MISSING
Chapter 13 PLAIN OL’ IN LOVE
Chapter 14 ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS. I LOVE YOU.
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
TROUBLE!
LEVI
Lifting my eyes off the pavement below my feet, I frown when I see a woman running toward me with her eyes closed and her hands in the air, waving from side to side. Jesus, what the fuck is she doing? I don’t even have a chance to get out of her way, and before I can prepare, she’s running into me at full speed and we’re both tumbling toward the ground. Attempting to keep my weight from crushing her, I try to spin us at the last second, but I only manage to turn us to our sides before we land and skid across the ground.
Groaning from the impact, I roll over and move to my knees, rising above the woman, and scan her from head to toe. She’s tiny, so much smaller than me that I know I could crush her without trying. I just hope I didn’t. “Babe.” I wait for her eyes to open, and when they do I’m stunned. She’s beautiful in an unusual sort of way that reminds me of a fairy. Her blonde hair is a mass of wild curls. Her face is soft; her nose, tiny; and her lips are a shape I wouldn’t mind studying more, but her eyes aren’t like any I have ever seen before. The color reminds me of an old beat-up green pickup truck I used to have—the green had faded and peeled away, leaving layers of silver and blue. I loved that truck. Feeling her eyes on me, I shake my head and force myself out of whatever spell she has me under. “Are you okay?” I ask her. Her eyes move to my lips, and she frowns. “Christ, do we need to get you to a doctor?” I question, watching as her hand lifts and her finger covers my lips, her brows pulling together. “Do you think you can move, or should I call an ambulance?”
“Are you talking to me?” At her question I frown, then move my eyes over her head and down her neck, and then I see the cord to her earphones. Realizing her music is still blasting and she can’t hear me, I move my hand to her neck to take hold of the cord, then let out a grunt as she hits me in the stomach and her knee comes up, barely missing my nuts.
“What the fuck?” I bark.
She starts to go wild, yelling, “Help! Fire!” at the top of her lungs, causing the people walking by to slow to see what’s happening.
“Jesus!” I finally get a grip on the cord and pull, which tugs the earphones out of her ears, and her body stills. “Are you crazy?” I grit out, and her eyes move over me, then to the cord in my hand.
“Oh shit. Oops!” she pants, covering her face with her hands. Oops? Is this chick for real?
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, and she uncovers her face, moving her eyes to my abs as I sit back on my knees.
“Tinker Bell, can you get a fucking clue for a minute?” I snap, ready to wring her pretty little neck, and she pulls her eyes off my torso, then looks around, and her cheeks fill with color.
“Everything’s okay. Show’s over, folks.” While she sits up, she waves her hands out toward the crowd that has gathered around us; then she looks at me and points at my chest. “And, you, don’t call me Tinker Bell!”
“You’re bleeding,” I inform her as I stand, and her eyes drop to her knees, and her face scrunches up. I don’t want to think that she looks cute with her face like that, but I do.
“Gross.” She stands, not noticing the hand I’m holding out to help her to her feet. Stepping back, I open my mouth to again ask her what the fuck is wrong with her, but my mouth dries up as she rips her shirt off over her head, leaving herself in nothing but a sports bra. As my eyes scan over her tight little body, my cock twitches. Then I realize I’m not the only one checking her out; a couple of other men have stopped to stare. At that, my anger irrationally spikes.
“Are you kidding me? Put your shirt back on! What the hell is wrong with you?” I step close and pull my tee from my back pocket, where I’d shoved it at the start of my run. “Put this on,” I demand, holding the shirt out toward her, and she shakes her head.
“No, thanks.”
“You seriously must be crazy. What the hell kind of woman runs with her eyes closed?” I ask, and her head starts to lift, but her gaze pauses on my abs before she lifts her eyes slowly to meet mine.
“If you knew my eyes were closed, why didn’t you get out of my way?” she asks before moving her eyes back to her knee, which pisses me off. It shouldn’t matter, but I fucking hate that she keeps taking her eyes from me.
“You must be a natural blonde,” I grit out, but she doesn’t give me the reaction I want.
Her eyes stay on her knee as she mutters, “And you must be a natural asshole.”
Standing there staring at her, I realize I must have hit my head, because I seriously want to get this woman’s attention. What the fuck is wrong with me? Without knowing this chick, I can tell she’s a whole different kind of trouble. “Just run with your eyes open from now on,” I bark, pissed off at myself. I need to get away from her before I do something stupid.
Like kiss the crazy woman.
“Run with your eyes open,” I hear in a mocking voice behind me. My head swings around, and I find her rolling her eyes at me.
“I saw that,” I inform her like a fucking five-year-old.
“Good.” She shrugs, and frustration fills my chest. I have never been more turned on and annoyed in my fucking life. “I thought you were leaving.” She raises a brow, and my jaw ticks.
“I am.” I turn and jog off before I do something crazy like toss the woman over my shoulder and run home with her crazy ass and fuck her until neither of us can move. Reaching the park exit, I feel something hit my thigh, and I realize then that I still have her headphones. With a shake of my head, I shove them into my pocket and look at my watch. The movers will be at my place in just a few minutes, which means even if I wanted to go find her to return her headphones, I don’t have time.
FAWN
“Why are the hot ones always jerks?” I shake my head in disgust, pulling my eyes from the hot shirtless guy’s retreating back. When I first opened my eyes after crashing to the ground and saw him above me, I thought I was seeing things. The light from the sun had caused a halo to appear around him, making him look like the gods themselves h
ad cast him down to Earth. Luxurious dark hair had fallen across his forehead, and golden eyes with thick dark lashes had scanned me from head to toe, making something inside me feel warm and dizzy. Then I saw his lips move like I was in some kind of strange dream, and I asked him if he was talking to me. I probably shouldn’t have assumed he was trying to attack me when he was only pulling out my earbuds, but how was I supposed to know he wasn’t? On that thought, I shake my head and limp over to one of the benches lining the path and take a seat. Pulling out my beloved iPhone from the pocket in my sports bra, I sigh, realizing that my headphones are gone. Getting up, I look around to see if he dropped them on the ground, then look toward where Mr. Hot Guy ran off and debate whether I should try to catch up with him. Deciding that I don’t want another confrontation—since my ego can’t handle it—I head home, walking slowly through the city.
Once I reach my block, I notice a large moving truck parked in front of my building with the back flap open and two guys sitting on boxes inside. Diva, who lived in the apartment across the hall from me, moved out of the building and in with her fiancé a month ago, so it’s a good bet that I’m finally getting a new neighbor. Walking up the stairs, I stop dead in my tracks. There is no way my luck could be this bad.
Mr. Hot Shirtless Guy from the park is standing in front of Diva’s empty apartment door talking to two guys who are carrying a large leather couch. Ducking my head, I try to get past his open door without being noticed, but I know I’m too late when I hear him ask, “Are you stalking me?”
“You wish.” I glare at him as I pull a key out of my sports bra and walk across the hall to open the door to my apartment.
“You have got to be kidding me.” He narrows his eyes, which makes me smile and his eyes narrow further.
“See you around, neighbor.”
I laugh, shutting the door with my heart pounding as a voice in the hall says something about a hot neighbor before a different voice booms, “Shut the fuck up.” Smiling at that, I look around. I am quite proud of my little nest. My apartment is considered large by New York standards, because in addition to my bedroom I have a small office space with a door that could be considered a second bedroom. The kitchen is to the right and has a bar that stretches the length of the kitchen, separating it from the living room. Four heavy metal bar stools with high backs line the bar, each in a different color—one rusty red, one dusty blue, one burnt yellow, and the last a weathered green. The living room, where I spend most of my time, has a suede sofa with throw pillows of different colors, which tie into the bar stools, and a painting that hangs above the couch of a pot of flowers sitting on an old table. The bedroom has the same furniture I had growing up: a double bed with an elegant wrought-iron frame, a tall white dresser, and one glass-top metal-framed side table that I found at a flea market. Above my bed hangs a picture I took of the ocean when I was around fifteen that my mom had blown up a few years ago as a Christmas gift. It reminds me of home but also complements the bedside lamp filled with sand from that exact beach and some shells I have collected over the years. The blue-green duvet and sheets make my room look like it belongs near the sea, a place I love.
Pulling myself from the front door, I head to the couch and lie down, closing my eyes for a few much-needed minutes of shut-eye.
Feeling a wet, rough tongue run over the side of my face, I smile.
“Hey, baby.” I greet my girl, running a hand through her fur while opening my eyes. You would never know that Muffin is only ten months old judging by her size. My Irish wolfhound pup once weighed eight pounds, but now she weighs a hundred and fifteen. “You missed out on the run today, girl,” I say, sitting up to make room for her when she climbs up next to me on the couch. “Mama biffed it in the park and had some tango time with a shirtless hot guy,” I inform her, and she licks my cheek again. Grabbing both sides of her face, I look into her brown eyes. “Next time I’m dragging you along whether you want to go or not.”
“Ruff.”
“Too bad, because next time you’re coming along,” I reply to her bark, which I’m guessing means no. This morning when I left for my run, she refused to budge from the bed, and I wasn’t about to fight with her about going out. She’s stubborn as hell when she wants to be. The one time I attempted to take her for a walk against her will ended badly for both of us. As in I had to carry my seventy-pound puppy home two blocks in the rain.
“Coming,” I yell when someone starts pounding on my door. Pushing myself up off the couch, I head across the room, knowing who it is without even looking through the peephole. Putting my hand on Muffin’s head to hold her back, I look down at her. “Be nice,” I command, and she huffs, taking a seat. She doesn’t like men at all. One of my boyfriends was cornered in the kitchen when he got up to get some water in the middle of the night. I found him there the next day asleep on top of the counter. After that he refused to come over, which in turn ended our relationship, since there was no way I was going to get busy with him at his place while his mom was in the next room.
I swing the door open, taking in my new neighbor, who looks like he’s had a shower in the last ten minutes. “Can I help you?” His hair is still damp on the ends, and he smells like soap and some kind of dark, intriguing cologne. I can’t help but notice he’s just as hot in a white tee, almost-black jeans, and black boots as he was shirtless and sweaty.
“Did you even check the damn peephole?” he barks, and my eyes fly up to meet his.
The corners of his eyes have small lines forming around them, and I wonder if I should tell him something my mom always tells me. “Honey, stop frowning. You know it causes premature wrinkling. You don’t want to look like your aunt Lizbeth, do you?”
“I knew it was you.” I shrug, leaving out the information about wrinkles, figuring he probably wouldn’t care.
“How?”
“How what?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“For starters, no one I know would ever pound on the door like they’re the police. Secondly, I’m not expecting any company, so I risked it all and took a wild guess. Are you here to return my headphones?” I ask, holding out my hand toward him.
“What the hell is that thing?” he asks as his eyes drop to Muffin, who is trying to push past me to get to him.
“It’s a chicken. Now do you have my headphones or not?”
“Are you always a pain in the ass?”
“Are you always an ass?” He shakes his head, dropping the headphones into my open palm. “Thanks.” I smile as he runs a hand over his head, looking at me, then looking around. “Did you need something else? Flour, sugar, my firstborn child?”
“You are so strange,” he informs me as his eyes roam down my chest and stomach, causing my skin to tingle, my stomach to dip, and me to realize that I’m still shirtless.
“Thanks.” I smile—or try to—before my dog shoves me out of the way. “Muffin, no!” I cry as she runs right past my new neighbor, across the hall, and into his apartment. Running after her through his open door, I find Muffin sprawled out on his couch like it already belongs to her.
“Muffin, come here,” I growl pointing to the floor at my feet. Her head lifts for a second before she lowers it back down and closes her eyes. “Muffin, do you want a treat?” I ask, and she opens one eye but still doesn’t move.
“She’s very well trained,” my new neighbor chuckles as my face heats.
“I’m really sorry about this,” I say, trying to hide my now scarlet face.
“Levi.”
“Pardon?” I ask turning my head toward him.
“My name’s Levi.”
“Oh.” I mutter, thinking Mr. Hot Shirtless Guy fits him better, but I guess Levi is okay, too.
“And this would be the time you tell me your name.” He raises one brow expectantly.
“Fawn,” I say under my breath.
“What?” He frowns, moving closer.
“My name’s Fawn—like a baby deer.” I sigh,
hating that my parents named me after an animal that has a history of getting hit by cars or shot by hunters.
“Fawn,” he rumbles while his eyes slide over me once more, making me suddenly aware of how close we are and how very attracted I am to him when I totally shouldn’t be. I know men like him, and I know they always lead to one thing—heartache.
Wow, okay, time to go. I slap myself mentally while moving toward Muffin, ready to carry her out of here if I have to.
“Her name’s Muffin?” he asks as I pull on her legs in an attempt to drag her off the couch.
“Yes,” I confirm, glaring at her when she tucks her long doggy legs under her body and turns her face away from me.
“Muffin, come,” he says with a snap of his fingers, and she instantly lifts her head and bounds off the couch to stand in front of him. “Sit,” he orders, and she backs up, taking a seat.
“Traitor.”
“You’re a good girl,” he coos, walking toward her, and I know this is when she’s going to show her true colors and try to attack him. But of course it’s just my luck that she stays still and allows him to pet her. “You just need to be the alpha,” he tells me with a devastatingly smug smile while my girl rubs against him with her tail wagging. So much for dogs knowing anything about girl code!
Okay, I’m officially jealous of my dog.
“She likes you,” I whisper in shock as she licks his palm.
“Most women do.” He grins, and I roll my eyes even though I’m sure it’s true. Most women are attracted to assholes—it’s human nature.
“Let’s go, Muffin.” I clap my hands against my thighs, and she looks at me, then back at Levi.
“Come on, girl, let’s go,” he commands as he turns for the door.
“Yeah, the alpha thing is totally working. You should write that down for me.” I snicker as she climbs back onto his couch and lies back down.
Sighing, he looks at Muffin, then runs his hand through his hair. “Why don’t you go get her a treat and I’ll wait here for you to come back.” With a nod, I head across the hall to my apartment and grab a treat from the large jar on the kitchen counter, then rush back over to his place.