The Game (That Girl, #2)(64)

“You planned this, didn’t you?” I ask him.

Damn little romantic bastard got me. The sky is pink and reflecting its color perfectly off the pond.

“Look over there.” Levi’s arms wrap around my middle, holding onto the satin of my dress. I feel each of his muscular features push through my thin dress. Those beautiful hands I’ve always loved hold me tight and whirls me around to the direction he wanted me.

Turning my head, I see Old Man’s Harley. I gasp and run over to it.

“How? Why?”

“I’m the one who bought your dad’s land. The bike is yours and belongs here with you.”

I try again to open my mouth to question my husband.

“Baby, listen to me.” Levi grabs my face, tilts my head back, and nothing but his beautiful face fills my vision. “Your dad would want his bike with you. That trailer is yours and always will be. You deserve it all. And that’s why I bought it for you as a gift. Our son deserves to know where his amazing mother grew up, and he also needs to know who his sister, Grace, was.”

I’ve never heard another person speak her name, and it catches me by surprise. Tears form in my eyes as I continue study Old Man’s bike. Levi just gave me everything with this simple gesture. I now have a past to be proud of, my present here with him, and my future with endless possibilities.

“Thank you, Levi.”





Sneak Peek

Coming Soon



Her Soldier





Prologue


Her face looks so familiar, but I don’t understand why. I haven’t seen a familiar face in years. Her eyes are recognizable, and that smile of hers. When she finally speaks, I instantly know who it is. It’s Michelle. She visited my Gran’s bakery before I was deployed. She damn near broke her arm when I spooked her. I took her to get her first tattoo. It was her birthday. Pieces of that night drift back to me slowly, and I can’t help but smile.

The crowd surrounding us dissipates, and I’m left staring at Michelle. A wedding ring decorates her finger, and from her glowing skin I can tell she’s expecting.

“Get any more tattoos?” My question sounds just as awkward lingering in the night air as it does in my head.

Michelle shakes her head, and I watch as some loose pieces of hair flow in the breeze. Her hair is still a beautiful shade of brown, but a little longer. I don’t know if it’s the pale pink dress she’s wearing, or if she really is as carefree and happy as she seems. The day we spent together couldn’t have been further from this. Worry filled every single one of her words. She acted like a frightened kitten who just lost its mother. The woman standing before me today is the polar opposite.

“Um, it’s Lynlee, not Michelle.” She wrings her hands together.

“You’re not Michelle?”

“Jeremiah, so much has changed, and I thought you were dead.” The worry covering Michelle’s face now is insurmountable. Her brown-eyed gaze darts around the room as she continues to twist her fingers.

The mention of Jeremiah makes my blood boil, and hearing dead only heightens my reaction to it.

“Well, right back at you. Jeremiah is no longer alive. Goodbye, Michelle, or whoever you are.”

I look down to the still very visible, yet dainty tattoo on the top of her foot, peeking out from her pink shoes, and I know it’s Michelle.

“Beau.” The crew boss bustles his way up to me in his white uniform, with concern covering his face. “Beau, you’re needed to make a run. This party has eaten nearly all the food. We can’t keep anything stocked. You need to run down to the restaurant.”

I’m not shocked by his words, considering the room is full of some of the biggest men I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

“No problem,” I reply.

“Thanks, Beau.”

Just like everything else in my life, I turn my back on Michelle—or the friend I once knew—and walk away without a second thought.

“Jeremiah.”

Her word stops me dead in my tracks. I’m no longer Jeremiah, nor is it even an option to toy around with the name.

No, my name is Beau Morgan. Jeremiah is dead.

I turn around. I can feel the slick dance floor underneath my fancy serving shoes. The people surrounding me enjoying the intimate reception don’t notice the look on my face. The only person who does is the one I’m marching straight toward.

“Michelle, or whoever you are, get this one thing straight. I’m not Jeremiah. I believe we have nothing else to talk about.”





Chapter 1


Streetlights whiz past my peripheral vision as I roar down Main Street to the restaurant. The familiar rage inside me begins to boil. Just the mention of that name can do dangerous things to me internally. I never want to hear it again. Everything was taken away from me with that name.

I try to focus on Michelle’s face instead of the rage. She looked so different, yet it was the same girl. I could tell from her tattoo. What a mysterious mind f*ck that girl is. I searched everywhere for her after the night she abandoned me at the tattoo parlor. Her wrist. Holy f*ck. It hits me if that’s Michelle, I knew then she’d have a lump on her wrist, because I can guarantee she never visited a hospital.

The night we spent together was something magical. There aren’t many things in my life I’d classify as magical—my gran’s baking, the birth of my child, and that night with her. She had a serious effect on me, but ran. She literally ran off into the night. I deployed two months later. End of story.