Текст книги "Can't Resist Him"
Автор книги: Molly McLain
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Can't Resist Him
River Bend, Volume 4
Molly McLain
Published by Molly McLain, 2015.
CAN’T RESIST HIM (River Bend, #4) by Molly McLain
Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Cover Photo: Sara Eirew
Copyright © 2015 by Molly McLain Books, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a media retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) with the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher of this book, excepting brief quotations used in reviews. Purchase only authorized editions.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, etc. are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real people, locations, events, etc. is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
OTHER WORKS BY | MOLLY MCLAIN
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Note from the Author
Acknowledgments
About the Author
OTHER WORKS BY
MOLLY MCLAIN
CAN’T SHAKE YOU (River Bend, #1)
CAN’T HOLD BACK (River Bend, #1.5)
CAN’T GET ENOUGH (River Bend, #2)
CAN’T WALK AWAY (River Bend, #3)
Sometimes what you want and what you need are two very different things.
Always relegated to the “friends with benefits” corner of small town River Bend, Jenny Riley is done giving the milk for free. Falling hard for a bad boy? Not in the plan, either.
Sexy, emotionally-wounded Marine Reservist Brody Nelson just needs someone to lend an ear. A friend. Friends to lovers? That’s more than he bargained for.
Neither wants a relationship. A long distance friendship should be enough.
It’s not.
Warning: This books contains a tattooed, pierced hero with a few surprises up his sleeve...and a hella sexy one down his pants.
Prologue
“It’s not you, it’s me.”
Yeah, right.
Jenny Riley sucked in a deep breath, wet her lips, and willed her heel, currently clad in a spiky black knee boot, not to stomp through Reed Fletcher’s stupid, clichéd foot.
“You really don’t have to do this.” She shot a glance around his shoulder to make sure Annabel, her receptionist, was still out to lunch. She was and, thankfully, she’d flipped the Open sign to Closed on her way out. At least there’d be no witnesses to this...whatever it was. “You’ve got someone new, right? I get it. We’ve done this before.” Repeatedly. To the point, it was actually kind of embarrassing.
Reed shook his head, his brow drawn together. “It’s different this time. Or at least I think it is.”
“Good. I mean, yay for you. I’m sure she’s great.” Great in a way she apparently wasn’t, because fuck buddies weren’t great for anything other than, well, fucking. Gah, she was so pathetic. What did she think would happen? He’d fall in love with her? Ha!
“Jenn...” Reed reached out for her and the second his fingers touched her arm, butterflies whirled in her stomach.
Dammit. She was not attached to him. She’d known what they were and what they weren’t. To have thought for even a second that she might mean something more to him...
“I hope we can still be friends.”
Ugh. The other ‘F’ word she hated so much.
“Of course we will. We’ve been friends forever.” She pasted on a smile as the chimes on the front door jangled and Annabel bustled in. Snowflakes glistened on her hat and she held two steaming cups of coffee in her hands.
“Hey, Reed,” the young woman greeted him brightly—and cluelessly—despite the cold following her inside the salon.
He flashed a quick smile, then turned back to Jenny, his voice low. “Have dinner with me tonight. Let’s lay this to rest, once and for all.”
God, that sounded awful. Like their on-again-off-again fling was something they’d struggled with. Hell, maybe he had. Could she possibly have been any more naive?
“Tonight’s not good,” she muttered, still sweeping up the hair from her last customer because it kept her from simply standing there, looking as awkward as she felt. “I’m helping Ally get ready for Vegas.”
“How late will you be? I can grab take-out and come over when you’re done.”
No. Just...no. “Reed, seriously. It’s fine. This isn’t that big a deal.” Only it kind of was and she hadn’t realized it until now. How ridiculous was she, falling for a guy who’d made it clear from the get-go that he’d never fall for her?
He nodded, but the frown on his face didn’t fade. “You’re something special, Jenny Riley.”
But apparently not special enough to keep him interested in more than the warm space between her legs.
Her throat began to constrict and her lungs began to burn, and she nodded, too, hoping like hell he’d get the hint and leave before the full reality of what he’d just told her sank in.
He didn’t want her anymore. Just like every guy before him and the ones in between, too.
“Thanks,” she managed to say. “I hope she’s the real deal this time.”
Just like that, the tension melted from his expression and his dark eyes lit up. His cheeks even flushed a bit. Imagine that—River Bend’s most renowned womanizer blushing over a girl.
“You’re such a dog.” She shoved him away and rolled her eyes. Damn him for never getting all soft and gooey about her that way.
“Hey, someone had to be the player around here.” He laughed and grabbed her arm, pulling her in for a friendly hug. Like they hadn’t, just a few weeks ago, licked every possible inch of each other.
“I guess the same could be said for me.” She pinched his side and held her breath. Don’t breathe him in. Don’t let him—this—get beneath your skin.
“You sure you don’t want to talk about this some more?” he asked into her hair.
Shaking her head, she pushed away and straightened her apron, keeping busy so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “Nah, it’s best this way.”
He gave a soft grunt and shuffled back a few steps. “Goddamn, I feel like a prick right now.”
And she felt like a fool. What the hell was wrong with her? Maybe the holidays were making her sentimental.
The chimes rang again and her first client of the afternoon ambled in from the mini-blizzard outside. Venturing a small, apologetic smile up at her now former lover, Jenny shrugged. “Duty calls.”
Reed mirrored her expression. “I hope you find the real deal, too, princess. You deserve it.”
Damn right she did. And one day she’d have it. Probably not anytime soon, but someday.
***
“Bullshit!” Brody Nelson slammed his hand down on the dull metal table before him, rattling his commander’s coffee cup and bouncing his pen.
Jeffords settled back in his chair, crossed his arms over his utility-clad chest, and chuckled. “You know, it’s not every day someone gets pissed at me because I tell them they can’t go back to war.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not every day you’ve got a miserable son-of-a-bitch like me, itching to go back either.” Brody shoved a hand back over his hair, the top just long enough to be against regulation, though he wasn’t sure why he gave a shit—the corps apparently didn’t care. “I don’t know why you can’t just push this through. Swap me out with someone who’s got a family...kids. Someone to fucking come home to.”
“You know I can’t do that.” Jeffords slid a form Brody had already seen too many damn times across the table.
“There aren’t many Marines like you, willing to give every last damn breath they have for their country, I’ll give you that. But until the doc says your head’s in the right place, you’re grounded. You know the rules.”
“Fuck the rules. Fuck those quacks, too. I never boohooed to them about anything, so that recommendation is total bullshit.” They both knew it, too. Just like they both knew that this was a red mark on his record he’d never shed. Three fucking tours and this was the thanks he got.
“It’s out of my control, Corporal. I’m sorry.” The commander lifted his hands.
Screw that. Brody pushed away from the table, the legs on the chair screeching against the tiled floor. He stalked to the left and then to the right, his hands locked behind his head. “I might as well just retire then, huh? What else is there left for me to do?”
His higher-up said nothing, just let him pace himself into a frenzy that ended with a fist flying into the wall on his way out the door.
“Take some time off, Nelson,” Jeffords called after him. “Get out of town and take a load off.”
He wanted out of town all right. He wanted the next plane overseas, but that wasn’t gonna happen.
Ooh-fucking-rah.
Chapter One
New Years Eve, Las Vegas
They say that whatever you’re doing at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve is a sign of what’s to come for the next twelve months.
If that was true, then Jenny was screwed. And not in the fun and breathless way either. Nope, she was screwed in the pathetic, just dumped kind of way she should have seen coming.
What was worse, only hours earlier she’d watched her best friend marry the love of her life. Proof that sometimes casual on-again, off-again flings actually turned into something more. Like she’d thought—hoped—might be the case for her and Reed.
She closed her eyes and chased away the mental image of the man she’d already given too much of her time. Tonight, she wiped the slate clean. No more Reed and no more gone-at-dawn hook-ups. Just her and her salon and her future, wherever that took her.
Definitely no men for a good, long time.
“You sure you’re okay on your own tonight?” Ally stuffed the last of her toiletries into a bag and handed it off to Mark, her new husband, who waited by the bedroom door of the suite Jenny and Ally had shared the past two days. Tonight was Ally’s wedding night, so of course she’d spend it with Mark. Just like she would every night for the rest of her life.
Damn, this sucked.
Jenny dropped her chin to her chest and willed the tears to stay away. Don’t ruin the most romantic night of your bestie’s life by crying like a baby.
“Hey...”Ally’s fingers grazed her arm and her voice softened to a near whisper, so Mark wouldn’t hear. “Are you that happy for me or is this about Reed, the dumbass?”
Half-snort and half-laughing, Jenny met her friend’s eyes with a smile. “Would you believe me if I said I’m just anxious for you to get out of my room so I can break out the hottie I’ve got stuffed in the closet?”
Ally nodded eagerly, her red hair dancing along her shoulders, left bare by her pretty, ivory wedding gown. “I would totally believe that. Hell, I hope it’s true.”
Sneaking men in and out of your life is what landed you single at twenty-eight, Jenn. Tsk-tsk.
Stupid conscience. Jenny shook her head and gave Ally a gentle push toward the door and her husband. “Get out of here. Go do nasty, deplorable things with your man. And take notes, because I expect details when we’re back home.”
Her friend tossed a saucy grin across the room and Mark returned it with an eye-fuck of his own. Totally disgusting, but they were married now, so they could get away with it.
“Have a good flight tomorrow. I’ll call you Tuesday as soon as we land.” Ally wrapped her up in a bear hug, holding on for a few extra seconds before she let go. “You know, Mark’s friends are still here, too. I’m pretty sure Sean would be happy to buy you a few drinks at the bar.”
Drinks, yes. Sean, no. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes reminded her a little too much of a certain ex-fling back in River Bend and she’d already made up her mind—no more energy wasted on guys who only wanted sex. She was worth more than that, dammit.
“Nah, I think I’ll just kick back here and enjoy one last bubble bath in that big tub.” She waggled her eyebrows and saw Ally and Mark out the door. After another round of congratulatory hugs, she said goodnight and watched her friends walk away, looking more in love than seemed fair.
She would not be jealous. She wouldn’t. Her friends had fought hard to make their relationship work and they deserved every good thing that came their way. Most of all each other and the baby Ally already carried.
But as Jenny closed the door behind them, the walls of the suite began to close in around her. Her pulse beat a little faster and, despite her best efforts to breathe, her lungs started to burn. She wasn’t just alone now—she was alone in every sense of the word.
No way could she stay in this monstrosity of a room all by herself. Sleep would taunt her and her stupid brain would try to dwell on all the ways her life should be different. All the things she could’ve done—and could’ve not done—to bring her to this very humbling, very terrifying moment.
She needed a drink. Maybe three.
Too bad it was already after ten o’clock and the New Year’s festivities would be in full swing. Couples would be crawling all over each other and she’d probably hate herself a little more.
Ahh, screw it. At least she wouldn’t be alone.
***
“The Marine Corps can suck my cock.” Brody tossed back a shot of Jameson, hissed with the burn, and then motioned for the pretty bartender to refill the glass.
“You don’t mean that, man.” On the stool beside him, Sam Conrad shook his head. Of course, the stupid bastard would try and talk him out of his anger—he hadn’t been screwed over by some bullshit panel of shrinks who’d never seen a deployment.
“Yeah, I do and I promise you this—they won’t push me out. If I go, it’s because I decide it’s time, not because some assholes who don’t know shit about me think I’m fucked in the head.” He downed the second shot—his fourth in the last hour—and went to work on his beer. PTSD, his ass. He knew what he’d done on his previous tours, and he’d do it all over again in a friggin’ heartbeat. Except the part where they’d lost Ernie and Troy. That he could do without.
“They’re not gonna cut you loose. It ain’t like that.” Sam’s words trailed off as a trio of women—one in red, one in white, and one in blue—passed behind them on their way to a table in the corner. His friend shot him a ‘you game?’ grin, but the last thing Brody needed tonight was yet another reminder that his service to those colors was currently in question.
“Have at it, Corporal. I’m gonna sit this one out.” Tipping back a swig, he turned his attention to a TV mounted behind the bar. An hour and forty minutes until midnight according to the clock counting down in the corner of the screen. Another year almost gone. Another twelve months of service he’d given a country that apparently had no use for him anymore.
Fuck that noise.
“Hey, darlin’, can you hit me again?” He crooked a finger at the blonde behind the bar, whose too sweet smile was one he knew well. A quick slip of his room key across the glossy wood and she’d be in his bed tonight. Hell, she might not even make him wait that long. This was Vegas.
With a promising glint in her eyes, she topped off the shot glass and watched him drain it. “At this rate, you’re going to need help back to your room.”
Ha. Could he read ‘em or what? “You think so? I don’t know. I’ve got a pretty high tolerance when it comes to whiskey.”
Twirling the bottle of Jameson in her hand all fancy like, she added another swallow to the glass and arched an eyebrow, those baby blues dancing at the challenge. “Let’s test that, shall we?”
He chuckled and chased the aftertaste of the last shot down with a gulp of beer. Truth be told, the comfortable buzz had already begun to morph into blissful numbness. Sure, he liked to drink—almost as much as he liked blondes—but getting shit-faced wasn’t going to make him forget why he’d come to Vegas in the first place. Neither was this chick’s blatantly fake DDs.
“I’ll humor you, sweetheart...” He reached for the glass. “But I’m also gonna do something I never do.” He nodded over his shoulder toward Sam and the patriotic trio and winked. “That Vin Diesel wannabe over there is probably more your speed tonight. Flash him a little cleavage and he’ll forget all about the triplets.”
The blonde stuck out her bottom lip and, if he hadn’t already ruled her out, that move would’ve done him in right there. He hated that pouty shit.
Movement a couple seats down caught his attention and he swiveled his suddenly heavy head to the right as a gorgeous brunette claimed a stool. She waved the blonde over and he watched in curious silence as the bartender poured out not one, but two shots of tequila.
He glanced behind the curvy bombshell, expecting a friend or even a boyfriend to slide into the chair beside her, but there was no one. Just her. And two rounds of Jose.
She flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder, tossing back the shots, one after the other and he zeroed in on the long column of her neck as she swallowed. All that creamy, golden skin. Looked soft and enticing. Would probably taste sweet as sin on the tip of his tongue.
Fucking hell, he was half hard just watching her drink.
But no matter how tempting, she wasn’t gonna make him forget either and, unlike the flirty blonde, this one had fire in her eyes. Like she’d burn him—hell, anyone—if they got too close. She took a full inventory of the crowd, and her grimace and slightly upturned nose when her gaze swept over all the paired off duos didn’t escape his notice. Even Sam and the flag sisters earned a distasteful glare.
He’d bet a hundred bucks she was on the rebound, and probably a guaranteed firecracker in the sack, with all that pent up man-hate brewing inside of her. Maybe he wasn’t so tired after all...
“Can I buy you a drink?” he called down to her and she jerked her attention back around. When her chocolate eyes finally landed on him, they widened just enough for him to know she liked what she saw, even if she didn’t want to. So he smiled. Not only the polite thing to do, but she was also beautiful. That face. So pink and fresh. Subtle and natural unlike so many of the other women he’d come across in Vegas.
He couldn’t look away, nor could he quit grinning.
“You look thirsty. Let me get you something to take care of that.” He gestured for the bartender to stick around and the brunette rolled her eyes. “What’ll it be, sugar?” He leaned a forearm on the bar and turned all of his attention toward the one thing on this entire trip that might be able to distract him from the shitty reality of his life.
Instead of reciprocating, the spunky brunette gave him the palm of her hand. “For one, there’s nothing sweet about me, so cut the sugar shit. Two, do I look like the type of girl who needs a guy to buy me drinks?” She motioned for the bartender to fill one of the empty glasses in front of her and dug some cash from her purse. “No offense, but you’re also way too pretty. Not my type anymore.”
Fuck me and don’t be gentle about it. “Once bitten, twice shy, huh?” Undeterred, he rotated his stool so he faced her head on. He also tugged at the long sleeve of his gray Henley, revealing his inked forearm. His guaranteed ace in the hole, because chicks...chick loved his tats.
But this one? She snorted, downed the third shot, and slid off the seat just as quickly as she’d climbed on. That wouldn’t do.
“Hold up. You just got here. You can’t leave yet.” He got to his feet too and the woman propped a hand on one luscious hip, fully leveling with him for the first time. She was taller than he expected, in fact, he bet his chin would rest on top of her head if they danced. Maybe he should ask her to do that. Thaw her out a bit.
“I’m pretty sure I can do whatever I want.” She lifted her left hand and waved it between them. “There’s no ring on this finger. Definitely not yours.”
“Well, no. Not yet. But—” Not yet? Way too much to drink, man. Way too much.
A small, almost imperceptible smile lifted the corners of her mouth and he chuckled, rubbing a hand around the back of his neck.
“That’s not what I meant,” he clarified. “But you look like you came here for a reason and I don’t want to scare you off.”
“Do I look scared?” One dark eyebrow lifted above one of the prettiest, sultriest eyes he’d seen in a long time. Hell, everything about her had that same pull. The full curve of her breasts and hips, and the long, lean lines of her legs in that snug pair of jeans. Even the way she cocked her foot to the side called to him. Made him wanna pull her in close, just to feel her body pressed against his.
“Nah.” He shook his head, flashing what he hoped was an appeasing smile. “Look, I’ve probably had too much whiskey and I’m sure I’m coming off as a total player right now, but I assure you I’m not.” Shit. “Well, wait...I actually am, but I’m not trying to hit on you. Not because you aren’t totally hot, because you are. Way hot. But...” What in the ever-loving fuck, man!
“But what?” She took a slow step forward, her head tipped to the side, those smoldering eyes dancing beneath the bar lights.
“But you look like maybe you’ve got something on your mind that no amount of alcohol is gonna work out. I know a little something about that.” He gestured to this empty shot glass on the bar next to his beer. “Maybe I could lend an ear. That’s all I’m offering. Really—”
“No thanks.”
Well then. He lifted his hands and retreated back to his stool, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Why the hell had he thought he’d be able to help someone else with their issues when, according to the Corps he couldn’t even deal with his own?
“I appreciate the offer, but coming down here was a mistake. I’d rather wallow in misery by myself in my room.” She hefted her purse a little higher on her shoulder and flashed a genuine, if not sad, smile. “Happy New Year.”
He watched her exit the bar in the mirror behind the display of bottles. She had the right idea. There was nothing down here for him but a bigger headache in the morning. So he tossed some cash on the bar, ignored the bartender’s third disappointed frown, and called an end to his evening well before midnight.
There was nothing happy about this past year and the one coming up didn’t look all that promising either.
