Forever Mine (All American Alpha Book 2) Read online

  MINE FOREVER

  All American Alpha #2

  Paige Parish

  Copyright © 2019 by Paige Parish

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  A sweet steamy Alpha male and curvy beauty instalove romance…

  Lacy

  The last couple of years have been difficult to find time for myself and having just been dumped by someone I thought I was falling in love with, I was not really excited about meeting the blind date my best friend had set up. Boy, was I in for a surprise; a case of mistaken identity or fate?

  Brent

  I wasn't looking for anyone. She just popped up in front of me like a mythical creature. I couldn't stop thinking about her...her curves, her smile, her laugh. I knew she would be mine. I just hoped nothing got in the way.

  Lacy

  “Bradley is such a douchebag.”

  I had to admit, my best friend was right. Bradley was a douchebag, but I couldn’t help feeling some shame because I thought I was falling head over heels for him . . . for a douchebag.

  “That he is,” I admitted to Janine. “But what does that say about me, then? A, that I would fall for a douchebag. And B, that I could only attract a douchebag.”

  “The answer is C, none of the above.” Janine put her hand on my arm and turned to order another round of margaritas from the mouth-watering gorgeous bartender. Turning back to me, she scolded, “And you have never had difficulty getting dates. You fish enough and occasionally you’re going to catch one that has to be thrown back.”

  I chuckled at her metaphor. She knew some of my favorite memories of my dad had been on Crooked Lake. We’d been fishing at least a hundred times together before he passed away from an aneurysm when I was fifteen.

  “Please stop being so hard on yourself, hon.”

  Ever since she had landed herself that hunk of a carpenter—an artist, she liked to remind me—her rose-colored glasses clouded her outlook on life. I sighed. She was right, though. How many times had I sat next to her, telling her what a catch she was and why she deserved so much more than that ex-husband of hers, Declan—also a douchebag.

  “So, are you still interested in meeting Spencer’s friend Logan?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I just hope my self-esteem can stand up to this.”

  “I have complete faith in you.” Janine smiled.

  I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, then. Remind me. When is this meetup?”

  “Friday night at 6:00 at your hangout, CJ’s Coffee Cafe.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot, but I’m not expecting the love of my life to be there when I walk in. We can’t all have the fairy tale you got.” I grinned playfully. Her love story with Spencer had been one of those never-happens-except-in-books, love-at-first-sight romances. And it looked like he was a keeper. They’d met when she contracted him to build her a tiny house in her backyard for her dog salon. He’d just moved in a couple of weeks ago, and the rest, as they say, was history. She was truly happy, and I was ecstatic for her. She deserved this, and Spencer thought she hung the moon.

  “Well, all I can ask is that you give it a shot. And if he’s not for you, then no harm was done, right?”

  “As long as Spencer isn’t expecting me to marry his buddy right away.”

  “Spencer will be fine.”

  I picked up my satchel sized red leather purse from my lap as I took one last drink of frozen margarita. “Well, I need to go take Mom some dinner. Thank you so much for meeting me for a much-needed drink.” I started to pull out my wallet, but Janine stopped me.

  “I got this. You go on and give Mom a big hug from her other daughter.” Janine had been so worried about Mom while she was going through breast cancer treatments you would have thought she was her only daughter.

  “Drinks are on me next time, then,” I argued.

  “You got it.”

  I tried not to anticipate the date setup too much over the next couple of days. I thought I was doing Janine more of a favor, so she’d worry less about me. She needn’t be too concerned. I would be fine. Bradley and I had only been dating a couple of months. In my two-week absence, while on a cruise celebrating my mother’s remission from breast cancer, he had found someone else. It wasn’t like we had been planning on getting married. But I had believed I was falling in love with him, so it still stung and was a devastating slap to my ego.

  Still, I’d survive. I’d certainly survived worse.

  I wasn’t expecting a lot when Friday rolled around. I was kind of busy with work through Friday afternoon. I had an online business designing organizational planners for women and having taken two weeks off for the cruise; I was still a bit backed up with orders. Which was a good problem, I knew.

  I almost called up Janine to tell her I needed to cancel, but I could hear her voice in my head: I can’t call this off this late. Your work will be waiting for you later. No small children will die if you don’t finish your work tonight.

  So, at 5:00 on Friday, I tucked away my laptop and got ready to meet a stranger.

  It was just a few minutes before 6:00 when I arrived at CJ’s. Janine had told me to look for a man in a red shirt and baseball cap. Before I began searching the cafe, I headed to the counter to say hi to the barista, Jill, who knew my favorite drink and was always waiting with a welcoming smile. I had spent many hours hanging out here with my laptop working on custom orders. The ambiance was very inviting, and the staff, especially Jill, was the best.

  She was handing a coffee to a rather lanky teen who looked as though he hadn’t had a haircut in at least two years when I stepped up.

  “Hey, Jill!”

  “Hey, girl.” She smiled broadly. She was such a beautiful soul. She was slightly plump and curvy like me, so we’d hit it off instantly. “Want your usual?”

  “You know it.”

  She turned to begin my caramel macchiato, as I looked around the shop. I stopped on a man tucked in a corner booth. He was wearing a red shirt sporting “Tigers Football” on it and had on a baseball hat. I paid for my drink and steeled myself, hoping we might be able to keep the date short. At least I could tell Janine we’d met.

  I walked over to the table where he was sitting reading a newspaper and froze. I knew this man, and his name wasn’t Logan. He was the local high school football coach, Brent Majors. I knew his name because I’d asked the last time I was at a Friday night game. I was a sucker for football and had a few high school friends who were now teaching at my alma mater.

  The thing about Brent wasn’t just that he was hot. He was smoking hot! He looked as though he worked out regularly and his body was ready to prove it at a moment’s notice. My friend Amy, an English teacher there, said he never asked his team to do anything he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. He worked out alongside them and followed the exercise and nutrition regimen he expected from the players. He’d been a star quarterback when he was in high school himself, though Amy wasn’t sure where his high school was.

  The thing that most struck me about Brent, once I’d gotten past his incredibly good looks, was how he interacted with the team. As I said, I was a football fan, and I’d seen plenty of asshole coaches who screamed at referees over every single call and were not shy about berating their players while they were still on the field.
That’s the most extreme I’d run across, thank goodness. Most of them just had temper issues that sometimes caused penalties to be called on the team from the referees when they argued over a play.

  But Brent was none of this. And I’d seen him in action in several games over the past year, sometimes winning and sometimes losing horribly. Still, he kept his cool. It wasn’t that he wasn’t passionate or invested in the win; it was more like he had more love for the game and his team rather than mind-numbing ambition. He wasn’t shy about expressing his disappointment at a lousy referee call or player error. He stood up against referees when he felt they’d missed the call, but his manner carried respect rather than rage. It was measured and controlled.

  I had found myself many a time paying more attention to him talking to players than to what was happening on the field. I’d shared every Brent sighting with Janine, of course, and we loved to talk about how much he affected me, but I just hadn’t found the right moment to get introduced without it seeming desperate. I had also not been one hundred percent sure I wanted to be dating while I was helping my mom through her breast cancer treatments. I even kept putting off Bradley for a few weeks before I finally agreed to go out with him.

  I captured the vision before me in my mind, making a mental note to tell Janine about a new Brent sighting and started to turn away when I saw another red shirt out of the corner of my eye, but then a wicked idea came to me. Here was my chance to meet this man I had been crushing on all year.

  I cleared my throat, pulled as much courage together as I could and went with my first instinct. I put out my hand and said, “Hi, you must be Logan. I’m Lacy here for our date.”

  Brent

  a.k.a. Logan

  I looked up at the woman in front of me and found my eyes following her head to toe, taking in her very luscious curves, small tattoo of a pink ribbon on the inside of her wrist, her ample breasts, and then back up to her flushed face, sparkling green eyes, and shoulder-length blond hair, two butterfly barrettes on either side at the top, giving her a slight fairy look.

  I hadn’t noticed that she’d called me a different name. I was wrapped up in the sight and hadn’t been listening carefully, except to hear the end when she said she was “here for our date.” I didn’t think I had made any plans, but I’d been pretty distracted lately. My ex-girlfriend, Allie, had sent me a friend request on Facebook. She’d broken my heart nearly three years ago, but, even after three years, it made my gut roll to see the request in my inbox. She had crushed me. I had thought we were going to be married and raise a family together, growing old in rocking chairs on the front porch. We were even engaged, but with no explanation, she called me and told me she didn’t love me anymore and it would be better if we called off the wedding.

  I wasn’t sure what she was plotting now, and maybe it was nothing but a friendly gesture. But I felt she had been manipulating me when we were dating, and I didn’t trust her. I had no intention of letting her string me along again.

  I reached my hand out to the goddess in front of me and decided that I was sure I had never met her. If I had, I’d have remembered her for sure. I gestured to the chair in front of me, still held in her gaze.

  “Have a seat, umm, I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

  “Lacy,” she said, darting her eyes around quickly before pulling out the seat and dropping into it.

  “Lacy . . . that’s a gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman.” The pink flush on her face deepened. “I’m sorry, did you say you’re here for our date?”

  Panic suddenly etched her features, and I feared she was going to run away.

  “I mean, I’m just making sure I’m meeting the right person,” I said hurriedly.

  She let out a long breath. “If you’re Logan, then you’re meeting the right person.”

  I hesitated. She was here to meet someone else. Without thinking, I took the opportunity. “Yes, yes, that’s me. I’m Logan. So nice to meet you, Lacy.”

  I was so going to hell.

  Lacy

  The man knew damn well that he wasn’t Logan, but he seemed eager to play along. It hadn’t occurred to me that he’d take on the ruse. I had figured—hoped—he’d correct me, and it would give us an opening for a conversation. I hadn’t expected this and wasn’t sure how long I could keep up the charade. But something in his eyes, something I didn’t realize until much later, seemed to tell me he was in on the joke and willing to go along for the ride.

  I was suddenly feeling damp between my legs, and hoped I wasn’t blushing too much.

  Before we could speak, I heard Jill call out, “Caramel macchiato for my good friend Lacy.” My breath caught, and I felt the panic rise in my chest. The jig was about to be up when my real date heard my name called.

  “Excuse me,” I said to the “Logan” in front of me and stood quickly, trying to look around the room without being obvious. No one seemed to have stirred, and I didn’t spy any other red shirts. I wondered if the real Logan had arrived yet. I had seen another red shirt out of the corner of my eye but hadn’t wanted to get a good look, hoping to get Brent’s attention instead. I didn’t see that shirt now.

  I threw up a quick, silent prayer hoping I hadn’t caused any trouble between Janine and Spencer by bypassing the date they’d set up. Then, I returned to the table, realizing that Brent had been watching me the whole time since I’d first introduced myself. I wondered at his acceptance of the “mistaken identity” and how long he’d continue the game and what his motives were.

  I sure hoped his motives and mine were in sync, and this manipulated date turned into the real thing. But would the moment when we revealed the truth come naturally, or was I starting up something that could only end disastrously?

  Deciding to ride the waves and see what happened, I sat back down.

  “So, um, Logan,” I began carefully, “how do you know Spencer?”

  He hesitated, and some pink crept into his cheeks, but he seemed determined to continue. “Oh, you know,” he said haltingly. “Spencer and I . . . um, well, we go waaaaay back.”

  “And do you build tiny houses too?” I brought my drink to my lips, trying to not giggle at my interrogation. I wanted to see how far he would take this.

  His eyes widened for a moment. “Oh no, I don’t know my way around a saw. I’m a football coach.”

  I smiled and nodded. So, he was going to throw in some truth. We continued talking, at first with halting questions and answers until the conversation settled into something more natural, and we found we didn’t need to try as hard to dodge the man’s true identity.

  When he told me that one of his favorite hobbies, other than football, was knitting, I burst into laughter, delighted at this unexpected peek into his life.

  “Oh my gosh, then you have to help me. I’ve been trying to learn for three years, ever since my mother was treated for cancer. I thought it would be a good calm way to keep my mind busy during her treatments. But I’m a disaster!”

  His eyebrows drew together. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mom. Is she still being treated?”

  I smiled broadly. “Nope, she’s officially in remission, according to her oncologist. We just celebrated with a cruise.”

  His eyes danced with laughter. “Well, in that case, of course, I’ll teach you,” he agreed.

  “What made you take it up?” I asked, even as it occurred to me that this might be a fictional detail he’d added to his alias identity. I swallowed hard, pushing away the sudden concern.

  “Well, I was very close to my grandmother. She mostly raised me. My mom traveled a lot for work, and my dad left when I was a baby. So I lived with my grandmother. And it was her favorite thing to do. She thought it would make me a unique man someday and that women would love to know I knitted.”

  I nodded. “She wasn’t wrong.”

  He smiled broadly and watched me for a moment before continuing. “I complained about it to her, loudly and often. But the truth was that I enjoyed it. I did
n’t want to admit that I enjoyed it. I think it’s why I got so involved in football. I felt like I had to prove my manhood, such as it was when I was nine. Knitting, though I hid it from all my friends, kept me balanced. I was able to work through a lot of teenaged emotional chaos that way. It helped bring peace and time for me to get my mind wrapped around things.”

  I laughed again. If this was a tale he was spinning like yarn, he sure was convincing.

  When a lull finally landed into our conversation, and we both checked our phones, we realized we had been sitting there and talking for almost two hours. I had turned my phone on silent when I had stepped back to the counter for my drink, expecting that Janine would try to reach out when she found out I hadn’t met up with Logan. As expected, I had missed a couple of calls from her and a text: Call me!

  My heart dropped a bit as I realized our play might be coming to an end. I dreaded the curtain call.

  “Excuse me for just a moment,” I said. “I need to take this.” I stepped outside onto the patio in the chilly night breeze and called my best friend, an apology forming as soon as she answered.

  Too late, she answered with an apology of her own. “I am so sorry,” she said vehemently. “I hope you’re okay. I’ve been so worried when you wouldn’t answer.”

  I paused, confused. “Well . . . I had my phone on silent, so I just now saw you called. Look, Janine, I—”

  “Logan called right at six, so I didn’t have time to warn you that he wasn’t going to show up. I’m so sorry. I guess he wasn’t too keen on the setup either, so he changed his mind and decided he just wasn’t ready. Spencer had hoped that a year had been long enough since Logan’s wife died, that he’d be open to dating again, but he just wasn’t. Which I can understand.”

  She rushed out the whole explanation leaving no room for me to respond, but I was too relieved to speak anyway for the moment. “Oh, well, it’s okay. This might may not be a waste, after all, Janine.” I turned back and looked through the coffee shop window at Brent, who seemed deep in thought. “Guess who’s here.”