Trust you...not! (Reckless in Love Book 2) Read online

  

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Trust you…not!

  Also By Lark Anderson

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Other Books by Lark Anderson

  Reviews & Arcs

  About the Author – Lark

  Trust you…not!

  Copyright © 2019 by Lark Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  Lark Letter Press

  131 Daniel Webster Hwy #166

  Nashua, NH 03060

  www.larkandersonbooks.net

  [email protected]

  Edited by; Natasha Davis

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission request, write to the publisher, addressed, “Attention: Permission Coordinator,” at the address above.

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictionally. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination. The following story contains mature content and is intended for mature readers.

  Also By Lark Anderson

  The Beguiling a Billionaire Series

  The Billionaire’s Board

  The Billionaire’s Fixer Upper

  The Billionaire’s Funding

  The Bad Girl

  The Dis-Graced

  The Trainwreck

  Reckless in Love

  Love you…not!

  Trust you…not!

  The Glow Girlz Series

  Stacey's Seduction

  Tempting Teysa

  Desiree's Delight

  Click HERE for a free ebook!!!

  If you'd like to become an ARC reviewer for Lark, please email her at: [email protected]. If you would like to subscribe to Lark's newsletter, please sign up here.

  Author’s Note

  Hello, Friends!!!

  Trust you…not! is a stand-alone romance short designed to get you in the feels! It’s a fully-fleshed out story in the greater Reckless in Love world that can be read in an evening—so you don’t lose any sleep!

  And it’s also going to make you laugh. Like, a ton. Ridiculously.

  If you enjoy it, you might want to check out the first in the series: Love you…not!

  …one more thing…

  Thanks to all my readers out there that keep those pages turning! I appreciate your kind words!

  Yours in Adventure,

  Lark

  Chapter 1

  Ashlyn

  I wish I could say coming back home felt like old times, but that would be a lie.

  I hate it here, and even more, I hate the people.

  I know that sounds harsh, and it makes me look like a total bitch, but it’s a simple truth, and from my point of view, wholly earned.

  Six months is what I tell myself. That’s how long I’m stuck here, but to be honest, as much as I hate it in this podunk town, I’d give anything for it to be a year. If it would buy me more time with her.

  I put three bags of Epsom salts into my cart, then make my way over to the digestive aid section.

  Someone’s eyeing me from the end of the aisle, hardly being discrete. I pay them no mind, hoping to get my granny’s goods and hightail it out of here to the lonely manse I bought for her some years back.

  I throw some probiotics into the cart and wheel my goods over to the cashier, unloading the items onto the belt and rummaging through my purse for my card.

  “Ashlyn?” a timid voice says.

  I exhale loudly, making my annoyance known, and look up at a familiar pair of eyes.

  “Casey?”

  She rings up my goods, shoulders slumped, looking defeated. “That’ll be fifteen dollars and thirty-seven cents.”

  “I’m sorry—I must have come off like a jerk.”

  Her lips curve into a slight smile. “It’s okay. You must have a lot on your mind.”

  It’s true, but if anyone deserves my attention, it’s Casey Clark.

  When most of my peers and high school friends were going off to college, I sat down behind my grandma’s clunky old typewriter and began writing. At first, it was short stories. I entered a few competitions and won some awards. Small ones.

  My granny was so tickled, she spent the last of her savings buying me a computer, which may not seem like a big deal, but we were rock-bottom poor.

  With access to a computer, my works grew longer, and I was eventually offered a publishing contract. On a whim, I converted it into a screenplay, and within three years, it was a Hollywood blockbuster.

  All that before I turned twenty-five. Now, at twenty-eight, I’ve written over a dozen novels that have all gone on to become bestsellers and four more blockbusters.

  But with that joy came heartache as people I thought were my friends told my secrets. A detailed account of how I lost my virginity made its way into the tabloids courtesy of Andy Clayton, my prom date, and items from my girlhood made it onto eBay.

  Casey, my closest friend, never sold me out.

  I swipe my card and wait for the receipt.

  “It was good seeing you,” Casey says, handing me my bags.

  “Yeah, ummm…it was.”

  I feel like a jerk. Casey and I met in kindergarten and became steadfast friends until I seemingly fell off the face of the planet. I wish I had handled things differently.

  “How are you?” I ask, wanting to extend my time with her.

  “Oh, I’m doing alright. I teach third grade during the school year and work here during the summer. My parents moved to Florida last year, so I’m hoping to go down there soon.”

  I force a smile.

  “How’s your grandma?” she asks.

  I exhale a ragged breath and try to fight back the pain.

  My mother overdosed when I was only three, and Gran stepped in to raise me. We never did have much, but we had what we needed. And I had her.

  “It’s rough.”

  Casey’s eyes fill with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m here until she passes. I tried to bring her to California, but she wouldn’t have none of that.”

  “I imagine she wouldn’t.”

  The silence between us is deafening, and I know I should leave. But I can’t. For the first time in a long time, I crave conversation.

  To say I’m a hermit is an understatement. I barely give interviews and have no friends. How can I trust anyone after how much of me has been sold?

  “Your house is nice,” she says. “I pass by it every now and then.”

  I give her a tight smile. I purchased the house shortly after I ‘made it,’ as one might say. I moved Gran from our tiny apartment into a six-thousand-square-foot home that she could call her own. I would have moved her out to Hollywood with me, but she refused.

  “Well, it was nice catching up with you,” I finally say.

  “Yeah, it was great.”

  I turn to leave, my heart weighing heavily in my chest. I wish I knew how to talk to her, but after all this time, I’ve become socially inept.

  Just think of something to say—anything! Ask her if there are any new places to eat or something dumb.

  I turn
back to face her. “Ummm…Casey…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I had to let go of the handyman. Do you know anyone that is available for the summer?”

  Her face brightens. “Actually, my brother could use the extra work. He coaches during the school year and picks up odd jobs in the summer.”

  I travel back in time, recalling Casey’s older brother Jake. He was the captain of the football team, graduating four years before us. I used to watch him train, but he never did notice me much.

  “Here, I’ll give you his number!”

  She scribbles Jake’s information down and hands it to me.

  I force a smile. “Thanks.”

  “Good luck with your granny,” she returns. “It really was nice seeing you again.”

  “Same.”

  On the way to my car, I curse myself for being a bad conversationalist. At least I have one problem solved, though.

  When I came back to Nebraska, I found out the groundskeeper was swiping Gran’s meds and had been doing so for a while. Because she didn’t want to get him in trouble, she never told anybody and chose to suffer in silence.

  About five feet from my car, I hear a voice call out.

  “Funny seeing you here.”

  I turn and see a familiar face, though it’s noticeably aged over my years I’ve been away.

  “Andy?”

  “It’s good seeing you,” he says.

  I frown. “I wish I could say the same.”

  Breathe in. Breathe out. You can do this.

  Of course, I run into the guy that sold me out my first few days back home. Why would I expect any different with my luck?

  He calls for me, but I ignore him, getting into my car and pulling out my phone to send a text to Jake.

  My mind suddenly goes blank. How does one ask a grown man to come mow their lawn?

  This is all business. Act professional.

  Ashlyn: Hey, Jake, it’s Ashlyn Reed. Casey gave me your number. Anyway, I need a handyman that can also do yard work. If you’re interested, let me know.

  Before I leave the parking lot, he responds with:

  Jake: Long time no see. I hope you are doing well. While I would love to help, a fire ravaged my apartment, and I have to look for a new place to stay.

  Without thinking, I reply with:

  Ashlyn: I have a spare room you’re welcome to.

  No, no, no—you didn’t just invite a man you haven’t seen in a decade to come live with you and your granny, you stupid introvert!

  Jake: Wow, that would really help me out, actually. With the way things were looking, I didn’t know if I was going to be sleeping in my car.

  There’s no turning back now.

  Ashlyn: When should I expect you?

  Jake: Would tonight work?

  Ashlyn: Sounds perfect.

  Chapter 2

  Jake

  After suffering the worst month of my life, it looks like I’ve finally caught a break.

  An old girlfriend took me to court for child support. I had no idea the child existed, but when I found out, I damn near drained my bank account, making sure they were in a good place, and he had toys and clothes, and all of his needs taken care of…only to find out the child is not mine. Shortly after that, my dog died. I had to buy a new set of tires for my car. Then I got arrested for trying to stop my neighbor from beating on his girlfriend. Of course, when the cops came, she defended him up and down, swearing that I barged in and started the ruckus. Luckily, everything was dropped. On top of all that, another neighbor burnt the apartment complex down cooking meth.

  I’ve literally lost everything.

  At least now I have a place to stay for the summer.

  After I’m buzzed through a gate, I park my truck on a circular driveway. The Reed estate is nice, though a little old. More room than any two people need.

  I knock on the door with all my worldly possessions in a bag slung over my shoulder.

  The door opens, and a sultry brunette greets me. She clears her throat, smoothing back her hair only to have it fall over her eyes again.

  Fuck me.

  I’m a blessed man, born with both charisma and a body women can’t keep their hands off of—cheerleading types, with bleached-blonde hair and long legs.

  Of course, I enjoy the attention. God, did I ever love it back in college, but it got to be like eating the same flavor of ice cream with every meal.

  This woman is different. She’s mysterious, an enigma wrapped in a pretty, voluptuous, hourglass exterior. The kind of woman I’ve always wanted but have never had the chance to sample. They’re a rare breed, choosey with their company.

  “Hi, uhhh…I’m here to see Ashlyn Reed.”

  “Well, now you’ve seen her,” she says with a deadpan stare.

  I furrow my brow, and then, realization hits.

  “You’re Ashlyn?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Oh, well, it’s me—”

  “Jake.”

  I nod, dumbfounded by the sexy siren standing before me.

  I’ve followed Ashlyn’s career over the years, but she’s notoriously private and isn’t photographed often. She’s lost all of the awkwardness of her youth and gained a curvy figure that could drive a man insane.

  She finally manages to tuck the unruly strand of hair behind her ear and steps aside for me to enter.

  “Come in. I’ll show you to your room.”

  I follow Ashlyn down a corridor, mesmerized by the gentle sway of her hips, which are not at all narrow as they had been when I last saw her. I still can’t believe that the little slight of a girl Ashlyn Reed grew into this tantalizing woman leading me.

  Her estate is huge, with an old-timey feel to it.

  We turn down another corridor and midway down the hall, she stops in front of a door, opening it and gesturing inside.

  “This is where you’ll be staying.”

  I smile appreciatively, but her face is like immovable stone.

  If only I could make those pretty lips smile.

  I enter the room and throw my bag on the bed. “Do you have a list of things you’d like taken care of while I’m here?”

  “The list could fill two notebooks with how badly the place was neglected. The guy I had here wasn’t doing anything.”

  “Your priorities are my priorities.”

  “The bathroom is across the hall,” she gestures to a closed door, “and I sleep in the room next to this one.”

  “Well, I’ll start immediately and try not to get in your way.”

  She manages a tight smile. “I’ll leave you to get comfortable.”

  Once she’s gone, I exhale a huge breath. I don’t remember her being so abrasive. So ice-cold, with a voice devoid of emotion.

  Maybe it was Hollywood that did it to her. Maybe she thinks she’s too good for the help. Heck, I know she is. With a body like that and a brain that can think up history-making movies, she probably has men worshipping her, fighting for her attention.

  My cock springs to life at the thought of her lush curves. How her tiny waist gave way to perfect, round hips. God, women are so fucking amazing. It’s no wonder men lose their heads over them.

  And Ashlyn Reed is like a goddess among them.

  I stroke my rigid shaft, but quickly think against masturbating in the first minute I’m alone in my new room.

  I barely gave Ashlyn much thought back in high school. She was just one of Casey’s friends, and I was wholly focused one football, grades, and girls. There’s no way I would have ever guessed that gangly little Ashlyn Reed would grow into a woman so sexy she has me reaching for my dick the first chance I get.

  I bring my bag of toiletries into the bathroom, and I’m immediately struck by the femininity of the decor. The room smells strongly of vanilla, the fixings are teal porcelain, embellished with flowers. Inside the drawers are a mess of hair things, lotions, and makeup. The cabinets have toilet cleaner, various soaps, and tampons.

  My stuff
just doesn’t feel right here, so I decide to bring it back into my room.

  I hate the feeling of not having a place of my own. Of not having a place for my stuff, not that I have stuff anymore.

  God, for once, I just wish I had something good. Something to hold on to that won’t turn to ash. Something that will last for longer than the blink of an eye.

  But no—not for me. Nothing good ever lasts.

  ❦

  Ashlyn

  Ten years put about twenty pounds of lean muscle on Jake Clark’s frame, along with a sexy stubble that I long to feel against my neck, my breasts, and between my thighs.

  I’ve written a couple of romances in my time, and despite my limited knowledge of love, they sold like hotcakes.

  It’s not like I’m a virgin. I’ve had plenty of boyfriends, but I never keep them long. No one’s ever gained my trust.

  Now, I don’t even try to date. It just doesn’t make sense to keep failing at the same thing over and over again. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve last had sex, but not for lack of want. I just can’t seem to let anybody in. To say it’s ‘dimmed my vibe’ is an understatement.

  But Jake conjures something in me I haven’t felt in a long time. That schoolgirl want that nobody wants to call lust. That itch, you don’t quite know what it is, so you explore, alone, with friends, and eventually…

  I shake the thought from my head. Nostalgia never was a good feeling for me. Revisiting those private times in my life is just too painful since it’s been exploited by so many, like my awkward-as-fuck prom date, who ran to the tabloids as the ink was drying on my Hollywood contract, telling them every salacious detail of taking my virginity.