Prologue
Allen
I watch Roman as Ana walks toward him, his son holding her hand and yelling at his dad. Roman smiles. That’s no small miracle; my boss was not a man known to smile or to be easy going. He was a man others went to great pains to stay away from.
Until Ana.
My sister worked a miracle in this man, and I think she understands that, if the answering smile on her face is anything to go by.
“When did you know you loved my sister?” I ask, not planning on questioning him, but unable to stop myself.
Roman and I don’t have that relationship, not really. Then again, Roman doesn’t share with anyone but Ana. Still, I owe the man everything. He saved me. I was drowning and waiting for death. I did everything I could to die. I fucking hated myself. There are still days that I do. Days when the darkness behind me tries to swallow me again. I beat it down by sheer will, but I never forget that it is there, nipping at my back, wanting to consume me—I’d be a fool to forget.
“From the moment I first saw her,” he says easily and I can see from his face he’s completely serious.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I answer, shaking my head no.
“I may not have called it love, Allen, but the moment I saw her I had to have her and after talking to her, I knew she was mine.”
“I think that’s called lust, Boss, and I’m not sure I want to talk about my sister like that.”
“You asked. Call it what you want, Allen, but the truth is I never wanted to let her go and I never planned on it. I called it a million things, but I was full of shit.”
He turns his head from me to look at my sister again. Roman is a tall man, with so much muscle he probably doesn’t need to employ us to guard him and his family, but he does. His dark hair has a dusting of gray that’s just becoming visible and he’s clean shaven. His suit is impeccably pressed and his Rolex gleams in the sunlight. On his hand is his wedding band and it’s not visible but I’ve seen it. Under that ring is a tattoo of just one name: Ana.
“She’s something else,” I tell him, and I mean it. Ana risked her life to save me, and because of her Roman did save me. I didn’t deserve her love; I did everything I could to destroy her—I blamed her. I blamed her for shit I shouldn’t have. Still, she stood behind me and she did it asking the one man she should have stayed away from for help.
“That she is, Allen.”
“You’re a lucky man, Roman.”
Ana and little Roman will be here any minute. We’re standing on the deck, waiting for them. They are crossing to the loading deck and Roman’s security team is following close behind. He keeps them close to his family. He once told me when a man has everything to lose, he keeps it guarded like the treasure it is. I liked that. I liked that my sister was treated like a precious treasure. I want that for her. After the hell she’s been through—and the hell I put her through—she more than deserves that.
“Allen, you may not believe me now, but mark my words. One day a woman will walk in your life and turn everything upside down. You’ll take one look at her and you’ll feel like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning.”
“Roman—”
“You will go down on your knees to keep her and if she’s a good woman, Allen, you’ll do it gladly.”
I take in his words. I take them down deep. He doesn’t say anything else; he can’t because Ana and his son are here now and Ana goes into his waiting arms with a laugh. Roman pulls her close to him and crouches down, picking up his son, cradling them both to him.
“I missed you, Pet.”
“We missed you too,” she whispers sweetly. She lays her head on his chest, closing her eyes with a smile that is so full of joy I feel it.
Seeing them together, it makes me think maybe Roman is right…
If I ever had a good woman… I would gladly go on my knees to keep her.
1
Jessie
I look at my empty shop and can’t help but be a little sad. It’s beautiful with its shining white tile floors, dark cabinets and LED lighting. All of my handmade products are lining streamlined shelves that are stained dark, but have backlighting in a moody blue—though sometimes I change the color to lavender—and it looks modern, sleek and top of the line. I’m so proud of this place. It, however, probably doesn’t blend in with the city of St. Augustine. Not at all. Which might be why it stays empty. It might also be why I will be forced to close the doors soon. It’s definitely why I’ve t
aken a side job as a night clerk at the local Best Western. It’s a shit job, and the hotel isn’t like Best Westerns away from here. The owner doesn’t care enough to keep it that clean. But it’s right on the beach and, despite its many two-star reviews, it stays booked up.
I direct my thoughts back to the here and now. My shop. Hopefully someday it will catch on and I won’t have to work anywhere else. I wipe off the counter for the third time today—not because it’s dirty, but because I need something to do. I’m so lost in my thoughts that I jump when the bell rings above the door and actual honest-to-God customers walk in. I try my best to tap down the urge to squeal in relief.
I manage barely.
I try to watch covertly as in walks a woman with a stunning body. She’s wearing a pink silk bohemian top with wide sleeves and a pair of white shorts that curve around her body perfectly. Her skin is tanned so golden I’m jealous and that jealousy doesn’t stop when I take in the high-heeled wedged sandals she’s wearing that have laces tied at the back of her calves. Her blond hair is in a long bob and it’s perfectly styled and shining. She takes off her expensive sunglasses as she looks around the shop. She’s gorgeous. Completely gorgeous and everything I’ve always wanted to be, but never could be. She could be a movie star and maybe she is—I don’t really keep up with that kind of thing. Following her is a tall, beefy hunk of a man with jet black hair wearing an expensively tailored pair of tan pants with a white shirt, which is long sleeved. It’s too damn hot for that type of clothes. This is Florida. But I have to admit the clothes look good on him—really good.
“Pet, don’t you think you’ve shopped enough?” the man says. He takes off his ridiculously expensive sunglasses—you can just tell from the frames. His voice drips with sex appeal, and despite the fact it’s not directed at me, my knees go weak.
“Do you even know me?” she laughs, turning into his arms, and the man’s face goes soft.
“Do you doubt it?”
“Not even a little,” she whispers and the look they share makes me blush. I look down at the counter, trying not to stare at them too openly.
What would it be like to have a love like that? To be so wrapped up in each other that the world around you ceases to exist? I’m so envious of them right now.
“Daddy! Dolphins!”
A little boy comes in that looks so much like the man holding the blonde that there’s no way to deny he’s the father. He’s holding the hand of another man and though I’ve try not to stare, I can’t help it. The man is about the same height as the first guy, but he’s broader. He’s wearing slacks and a black shirt—seriously, do these guys not notice how hot it is outside? At least his shirt has short sleeves and it reveals these huge biceps that remind me of tree trunks. He’s also very unlike the other man in that he’s covered in tattoos. There’s not a place on him that doesn’t have ink covering it. His neck, his arms, what I can see of his chest from the deep V collar of his shirt, and even his hands and fingers are all covered in ink. It would almost be intimidating if it wasn’t quite so beautiful. He doesn’t look like he fits in with the couple, but clearly he does, because he’s holding their son’s hand.
“Allen! You’re the reason we’re here.”
“Uh, Sis—”
“I’m serious. You keep insisting on wearing that silly beard,” she mumbles and the guy in question shakes his head at her.
“My beard is not silly.”
He’s not wrong. It’s a closely shaven beard, thin at first until it gets thicker on his chin. It’s not overly long, and he wears it really well. So good that you want to touch it. I look at them chattering with each other while the first guy takes his son into his arms and watches them. The girl and the man she called Allen look nothing alike. If he hadn’t called her his sister, I wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years.
“Allen, it is.”
“It’s not. You just have a thing against beards.”
“Well, it’s true. If Roman ever decided to grow a beard I would refuse to let him touch me.”
“Don’t challenge me, Pet,” the other guy interjects and that all-over body quiver I wanted to have before comes back now with a vengeance.
“Sorry, lover,” she whispers, blushing.
Holy shit.
Those two have enough heat in here that I may need to turn the temperature down on the thermostat.
“Please, you two, family member here—your son is here,” Allen complains.
“How do you think our son got here?” the blonde asks, laughing. “Anyway, Allen, you were the one complaining that your beard is itchy—not me.”
“Boss, kill me now,” Allen says, his face deadpan.
“I’m out of this one,” the guy says easily as he walks over to the counter where I am. He sets the little boy down and I smile at him.
“Hi! I’m Ro’mun!”
“Hi, Roman.” I grin down at the little boy. “I’m Jessie.”
“Jessie!” he repeats and I laugh. I reach down under the counter and pull out the bowl full of toys I keep there.
“Would you like one?” I ask.
His little hand goes to the bowl and his little chubby fingers wrap around a bright yellow spongey ball.
“What are you supposed to say, Little Man?” the girl says.
“Thank you!” Roman says, squeezing the ball.
“You’re welcome,” I laugh, and I can’t resist rubbing the top of his head, ruffling his dark hair.
“I’m Ana,” the woman says, smiling at me.
“Jessie,” I murmur. She’s friendly and has a sweet smile, but I can’t help feeling intimidated.
“Do you own this shop?” she asks, obviously recognizing my name from the sign outside.
“I do,” I answer proudly. “I make all of the products myself.”
“Oh gosh! I love it. You’re obviously just the person I need to talk with!” she says excitedly.
“I am?”
“My brother has a beard,” she says, stating the obvious. “And he’s always scratching it, because it’s so itchy and dry.”
“Maybe I just like scratching my beard, Ana. You ever think of that?” Allen complains and he sounds so annoyed I have to resist the urge to laugh.
“Whatever. Do you have something to help him?” she asks.
I look up at her and then back to the man. He doesn’t really seem like he wants my help. That’s confirmed loud and clear when he responds.
“I’m not buying some crap in a bottle for fifty bucks so I will smell like a girl,” he grumbles and then, as if he just remembered I’m there, grudgingly looks up at me with a tagged on “No offense.”
I nod in reply, because I don’t know what to say. I figure my wisest move is to let him and his sister fight things out.
2
Allen
“Will you quit whining? You’re embarrassing her. The prices are very reasonable and I happen to know my man pays you well enough you don’t have to blink at buying beard conditioner,” Ana mutters, walking away from the counter and going over to a corner of the store that has almost black stained shelves with white glass bottles.
“Beard conditioner?” I bark at my sister. She’s lost her mind. “Roman, you need to contain your woman,” I mutter. Roman ignores me, though, as I knew he would.
“Beard conditioner,” she insists, handing me a small bottle. “What about this one?”
I look at it with distaste. I have some stuff I bought at the local Walmart that works fine. My sister is just crazy. She’s always trying to get me to buy better clothes, better shoes, and anything else she can think of. I know our lives have changed drastically now, I get it. Still, just because we don’t have to worry about money doesn’t mean I need to go out and spend it on shit I don’t want and will probably never use. I twist open the lid and scrunch my nose up as I take in the smell.
“No way,” I growl, putting the lid back on it.
“Why not?” Ana whines.
“I’m not
putting anything on my beard that will leave me smelling like a damn lemon cake.”
“You like lemon cake,” Ana says obstinately.
“Not on my face. Absolutely not.”
“Allen, you need to—”
“Roman, speak to your wife, please?” I tag on the please because no one orders Roman around—and lives.
“Pet—”
“This isn’t Roman’s—”
Before I can interrupt Ana, who has already spoken over top of Roman, the girl at the counter speaks up.
“You can honestly make one from home that will work just the same without the smell,” she says quietly.
I turn to look at her and for the first time really take her in. She’s standing there in a pale blue sleeveless dress that flows freely down her body. As she walks around the counter and comes toward me and Ana, I notice the dress goes all the way to her ankles. There’s no skin on her showing at all except her neck and collar bone and her arms. It’s so different than most women I’ve seen here in Florida. It’s not bad, just different. What is bad is that the dress falls so free and loose it doesn’t even hint at what kind of body she has underneath—and I’d really like to know.
Even if I shouldn’t.
“Say what?” I ask as she gets closer. Her steps fall just as soft as her voice. Every other step I see her foot peek out from under her dress, revealing black flip-flops and long toes. The tops of her nails are painted a clear gloss so they shine. Simple, understated, and somehow it manages to look… sexy. Her long brown hair has been brushed until it shines and it’s kept in a large pony tail that starts at the top of her head and swishes when she walks. Her face doesn’t have makeup on it. She has the same clear gloss on her lips that caught my eye on her toes. Even her fingernails are fixed that way.