Making the Cut (Sons of Templar MC 1)

Amy tried talking me out of opening a boutique clothing store in Amber, California, but as soon as I saw it while passing through on a buying trip, I fell in love. It was the classic small American town, a main street with everything in one place, from the grocery store to the barber. A town where everybody knows everybody, and that gave me a strange sort of comfort, reminding me of home. It also had a beach, but it was relatively undiscovered on the tourist trail, people preferring Malibu and Santa Monica a few hours away.

I thought back to when Ian had persuaded me to tell my parents about my attack.

“I love you so much kid, and I’ll always be here for you and respect your decisions, but you need to tell Mum and Dad about what happened, you know you do, I know it will be hard but you gotta do it.”

Like always, I listened to my brother’s advice and rang them. After a long and tearful (on both sides) conversation, Mum and Dad took the first flight over, helping me recover, both physically and mentally. And after finding my little town, I immediately rang them and told them about my desire to move there and open my own store. Hearing the passion and happiness in my voice, which had been absent for a while, my parents gave me the money to buy the store and move to Amber.

My family was wealthy, but my brother and I were always brought up to work hard for what we wanted and I was grateful for that. We got a portion of our trust fund when we turned eighteen, and I used mine to move to the States and get myself an apartment on the Upper East Side, my ultimate dream after watching ‘Gossip Girl’ — shallow, I know, but I was young and had my dreams.

After working my way up to Senior Buyer position, I earned decent money, not to mention I still had a hefty portion of my trust fund. Nevertheless, my parents were adamant they were going to help me out. I guess since they had no control over my nightmares, my recovery or my scars, they wanted to help me get something that might get me back to my old self.

Of course, after Amy found out about my plans, even though she was a Manhattanite through and through, and her family was a lot wealthier than mine, she decided that she wasn’t letting me go alone.

“You’re not going to the other side of the country to fuck knows where and opening up a shop without your best girl helping you out,” she had said once I told her about the space I had bought.

So that brings me back to now, taking the long drive across the country to my new home and my new life.

CHAPTER TWO

I arrived in Amber, breathing a sigh of relief, knowing I had made the right decision. I took a week to do the forty-four hour drive. I had done all the necessities when on a road trip: listened to power ballads, singing along at the top of my lungs, stopping at random sights along the way, and enjoyed the solitude.

I drove past where my store would be, and a smile lit up my face. Nestled between a cute little coffee shop and a bookstore, it was perfect. The three loves of my life within a stone’s throw of each other, coffee, fashion and books. It sent a thrill through me to see my little sign with the word ‘Phoenix’ scrawled across it.

I continued to mine and Amy’s new home, she had decided that she would fly the next day. She had told me she wasn’t spending days driving the country when she could “drink champagne and read Vogue on her father’s jet”. Yeah they were loaded.

Amy had picked our house, and, after a huge argument, I bought it, but only if she agreed to be in charge of decorating and the expenses that went with it. So after spending the last few weeks on the phone with decorators and closing her computer screen every time I walked past, I was itching to see it.

I pulled up the driveway and took a moment to take in our beautiful new house. On the end of a sleepy little street, slightly separated from the rest of the houses, was a stunning restored Victorian. It was three stories high with dove grey weatherboards. A stone path led up some steps to the second story, which had a huge porch wrapping around it. Another path led to French doors that housed the bottom story basement. The third story had a huge balcony jutting over the porch, more French doors opening to that. That was my room, Amy’s was at the back, her balcony jutting onto the back yard and pool. I had to toss up between this and a smaller house by the sea, this one had appealed to me more.

I jumped out of my car and gave an excited little squeal. I glanced around, glad I was alone, the last thing I wanted was my neighbors thinking I was a crazy person. I decided to forgo unpacking for now, dying to see the house.

My heels clicked on the stones of our walkway. Even the porch was amazing. A gorgeous porch swing that looked like it could double as a bed was on my left, a wicker table and chairs to my right. When I got inside, I looked around and my breath left me. The walls were white, the floors a beautiful polished wood. A white table with a huge vase full of pink orchids sat in front of me. Slightly to the right was the staircase, ahead of me, the doors to the dining room and the kitchen. I continued into the house on unsteady feet, into the beautiful living room with cozy white couches and chairs, which were centered around a coffee table. Patterned throws and pillows added a touch of class and vibrancy. The coffee table was stunning, it looked like a giant silver serving platter with dark wooden legs. A fresh vase of flowers and some candles sat atop it. A white glass cabinet sat in the corner, a mish mash of photo frames, books and bowls inside. Framed artwork covered the walls in simple white frames; I knew by looking at them they were by some seriously famous artists. I wandered around the rest of the house in a sort of dream, barely taking in the black marble kitchen or the magnificent dining room. I climbed the stairs and opened the door to my room.