Purely Wicked: The Moore Cousins Read online

  Purely Wicked

  The Moore Cousins

  Abby Brooks

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Also by Abby Brooks

  Copyright © 2016 by Abby Brooks

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my Bill, the man who taught my the joys of being wicked.

  And for Alison, Anya, and Jen. May Renya Anyee save us all. ;)

  Chapter One

  I love romance. I mean, I love romance. I’m a sucker for long walks on the beach and deep, soul-baring conversations. The kind where you lean in and stare into each other’s eyes and lose the rest of the world for a little while. Give me hand holding and love notes left in silly places. Give me inside jokes and sweet nicknames. I’m all over that kind of stuff. Just thinking about it makes me light up from the inside out.

  Of course, my boyfriend Cain doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. He’s such a typical guy he might as well be a cliché of himself. He can’t even remember to leave the seat down, let alone think about getting me a card for our anniversary.

  Which was last week, by the way. Five years. Go us.

  I guess after all this time, it’s a little much to ask that he gets all dreamy-eyed over celebrating our relationship. This is real life after all, and we aren’t the stars of the latest Nicholas Sparks movie. It’s just…

  You know…

  Five years is a really long time.

  Oh, well. Such is life with Cain Holt, the one-time quarterback of Bliss High School’s varsity football team who now works second shift stocking a warehouse in the next town over. For now, anyway. All of his jobs seem to be temporary lately. I started working extra shifts at Fantastic Sam’s, the bar and grill where I work in the little strip of shops we call downtown here in Bliss, South Carolina. If Cain’s on the fast track to unemployed again, I fully intend on fattening up our savings account ahead of time. Especially if he keeps spending every last dollar we bring in on video games.

  I’m not thinking about any of that tonight, though. I’ll push those thoughts away and file them under ‘To Worry About Later’ because there’s no way I’m letting anything get in the way of finally getting to have a little fun. Not tonight. It’s my one night off this week and Cain promised he’d put down his controller long enough to take me out for some grown up time.

  “You expect me to take you out in that?” Cain couldn’t look more disgusted if he had stepped on a slug. Barefoot.

  I look down at my outfit, my stomach twisting into a familiar set of knots. “I thought you loved this skirt.”

  “Maybe ten pounds ago.” He un-pauses his game and starts mashing buttons, muttering curse words at the screen.

  My jaw drops and I bite back a venomous remark. The last thing I want is to have a bad night with an irritated Cain. It’s way less trouble to put on a new outfit than deal with him if he’s going to be in a mood. “You want me to change?”

  “I’m already tired of waiting on your ass.” Click, click, click go the buttons on his controller. Cain sucks in his lips as he concentrates on whatever it is he’s blowing up right now.

  “It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll be really fast.”

  He glances at me and the clicking and clacking of the button mashing stops for a fraction of a second. A huge explosion blasts through the sound system and the words ‘You Died’ float across the screen.

  “Fuck!” Cain throws the controller onto the coffee table and it clatters against the Mountain Dew graveyard he’s planted there, knocking several over.

  Of course, wouldn’t you know, one of those cans was still mostly full. The soda rushes out across the table, circling the all-important, limited edition controller he stood in line for hours to buy. Worse—although if I said anything about it Cain would just roll his eyes—the five year plan I’d spent days drafting, my all-important ‘Plan to Be More Than a Waitress’, was hiding under the mountain of trash from Cain’s latest video game marathon. As if all the grease stains and bits of food dried onto it wasn’t bad enough, now it’s drenched in Mountain Dew, the ink fanning out and fading like a drenched watercolor painting. My heart sinks, but that’s what I get for leaving it out, I guess.

  “Don’t just fucking stand there. Get a towel and clean this up.” Cain flares his hands and shakes his head at me like he can’t believe how stupid I am.

  I scurry into the kitchen as my stomach continues its best imitation of a pretzel. All I want is to have a nice night on my one day off this week. I hate it when he talks to me like this, but I’d rather just fly under his radar so maybe we can salvage the evening rather than say anything that might really set him off.

  Piece by piece, I pluck empty food wrappers and soda cans out of the drippy mess and deposit them into the trash bag I grabbed when I got the towel from the kitchen. My five-year plan is completely ruined. The soaked paper tears when I try to pull it off the table. It’s okay, I guess. It probably wasn’t a very good plan, anyway. Cain always says I don’t have any skills outside of waitressing, so I don’t know what I thought I was going to do. When the table is finally cleared of all the trash, I mop up the mess and then wash down the table with a damp rag so it’s not a sticky disaster when we get home.

  “Alright.” I pop up and give him my best and brightest smile. “All done. You ready?”

  Cain sighs. “So, you’re not going to change?”

  I open my mouth to reply, but he just grabs my arm and pulls me towards the door.

  “Fuck it,” he says as I stumble a few steps behind him. “Let’s go.”

  It’s humid tonight and the breeze coming in off the ocean feels like it’s going to bring rain with it. Cain stomps down the sidewalk from our apartment door to his car and flops into the driver’s seat while I lock up. The wind blows my hair into my face and the tips whip my eyes, making them water and sting. I run a hand across my forehead to smooth everything back into place while I try to keep my makeup from running. Of course, the moment my hand is gone, the wind blows my hair right back into my eyes again. It kind of feels like my relationship with Cain. No matter what I do to keep things the way they should be, everything keeps ending up right back the way they were. Stuff out of place and me hurting a little.

  “Where are we going tonight?” I ask as I slide into the passenger seat.

  The moment I close the door, Cain throws the car in reverse and backs out of the parking space. “Fantastic Sam’s.” He won’t look at me.

  As he jerks the car in gear and we lurch out onto the street, I struggle to get my seatbelt on and keep my mouth shut. Of course we’re going to Fantastic Sam’s. It’s my one day off from work. You know, where I’m a waitress at Fantastic Sam’s. Of course I want to spend my free time there. How very thoughtful of Cain to think about my needs like this. I inhale deeply through my nose and slowly let the breath out through my mouth. There’s no point in getting upset. It won’t change anything. In fact, it would only make things worse. I’m a firm believer that life is what you make of it and tonight, I choose to make it happy.
>
  We get into Fantastic Sam’s without anything else going wrong. Aria, one of the other waitresses who knows just how excited I was to spend tonight anywhere but here, raises her eyebrows as we take a seat. I beg her with my eyes not to say anything when she comes over to take our order and risk a quick eye roll in her direction while Cain busies himself with his phone.

  “Welcome to Fantastic Sam’s,” she says, her voice dripping in sarcasm and sugar. “Have ya’ll been here before?”

  I take the menu she offers me even though I have the whole thing memorized. “No.” I shake my head and smile. “This is our first time. What’s good here?” Cain glances up and I try to catch his gaze, but he drops his focus right back down to the phone in his lap. Tap, tap, tapping away on yet another text.

  Aria bites her lip and stares, waiting for him to acknowledge the fact that she’s here. When he never does, she turns back to me. “You guys eating or drinking tonight.’

  “Both,” I say with a wide smile. “Right babe?” I love the nachos here and have been craving a margarita since I decided not to care that we were heading into the place I work to celebrate my day off.

  Cain looks up and purses his lips. “Bring her a salad and a Bud Light. I’ll take a Long Island and a basket of wings.” His attention goes right back to his phone.

  Aria turns to me. “A Long Island and a basket of wings for him. What can I get for you, sweet stuff?”

  Cain looks up, but neither of us bother to acknowledge him.

  “I bet you can’t guess what I want.” I bite my bottom lip and lift my eyebrows, smiling. “I only rave about them every time I have to put an order in.”

  “Fiesta nachos?” Aria’s eyes light up. “And a margarita, right? The bigger the better?”

  I’m about to reply when Cain pipes up. “Like she needs the extra calories.” His words are a slap to the face and all the fun falls right out of the evening. It doesn’t matter how much I try to be positive, this night has gone right from challenging all the way to absurd with each new thing Cain lets out of his mouth. Who talks to the person they love like this? Who talks to anyone like this, love or not?

  Aria whirls on him and I can tell from the rat-a-tat-tat of her voice that she’s letting him have it. Me? Not only is this twisting, twirling mess of rage tangling with embarrassment and self-doubt rushing through my veins and roaring in my ears, but I’ve also just caught sight of someone coming out of the manager’s office in the back of the bar.

  Someone who is not Sam, the red-faced, rotund man who owns the place. Someone who is much taller and leaner and better looking than the good-natured Sam Beauchamp. Someone who looks very, very familiar.

  Oh. My. God. That’s Jackson Moore.

  The guy who came swooping into Bliss for his senior year of high school. The guy who stole my fifteen-year-old heart the summer after he graduated, whispering sweet nothings into my ear and kissing me so deeply I have yet to catch my breath. The guy who took my virginity in a whirlwind summer of first love and self-discovery only to disappear off to some crazy stock broker’s wet dream on Wall Street. My mouth falls open.

  When did he get back into town and what is he doing in Sam’s office?

  He’s filled out since he left. At nineteen, he was lean and wiry—his body more focused on growing up rather than out. Back then, he was a lot too tall and a little too thin. The years have certainly been kinder to him than they have to me. His shoulders are broad now, his arms thick enough to test the limits of his cotton t-shirt. And his jeans? The lighting is dim in Fantastic Sam’s but that doesn’t keep me from noticing just how well they hug his ass. He turns, sees me staring, and after a second of surprised disbelief, smiles and starts towards me.

  Cain is glaring at Aria and must have totally missed my reaction to seeing Jackson. Which is good. There’s no way I could have explained away the blush that’s flaring across my cheeks right now. No way to explain the way my lips parted when I saw him. The way my breath quickened and my eyes lit up. They say you never forget your first love. I thought they were wrong.

  Until now.

  Jackson saunters up to the table in that unforgettable swagger of his. God, how I swooned over him passing me in the hallway at school. I’d clutch my books to my chest and lean against my locker, unable to tear my eyes away. His smile hasn’t changed one bit. It’s bright and his eyes are the same devastating blue I remember from that summer eight years ago. He comes right up to me and leans down for a hug like there hasn’t been an entire lifetime between then and now. His arms wrap around my shoulders and his cheek presses to mine.

  The past and present collide and it’s so jarring I may not ever be the same. He smells like puppy love and sunshine. Like long days stretched out on the beach, kissing and talking and kissing some more. My body responds instantly, my heart jumping up and down, clapping in excitement like a little girl getting a pony for her birthday. Meanwhile, my stomach twists and complains, a little old lady wringing her hands in worry. Cain’s not going to like this.

  “If it isn’t Ashley Thompson. How are you, Sunshine?” Jackson straightens and his voice is at once exactly as I remember it and totally changed. It’s deeper, richer, a little more gravelly and wise than I remember. He glances at Cain, whose eyes are bulging out of their sockets while his face turns a violent shade of red. “Or did you get an upgrade on the last name?” Jackson asks, raising an eyebrow at my boyfriend’s obvious distress.

  Cain won’t look at him because he’s got his sights set on me. This is not going to go well. I smile right at him as if I’m oblivious to the rage vein pulsing at his temple. “Nope,” I say sweetly, flashing Jackson my unadorned left hand. “At least not yet.”

  “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.” Jackson pauses, waiting for Cain to acknowledge him. His eyebrows draw together. “A man would be a fool to do anything but treat you like a princess.”

  He stares right at Cain as he says it and even I flinch at the undercurrent of threat in Jackson’s voice. Back when we were in school, Jackson made his point with his fists. He didn’t grow up here in Bliss where everything moves at a snail’s pace complete with a friendly wave and a smile. Where he grew up, you either learned to punch first and punch hard, or you learned how to heal up quick from black eyes and broken noses.

  Sensing disaster, I try to divert the conversation. “What about you? Last I saw, you were married and had a little baby girl?” Maybe, if Cain knows that Jackson is very much involved with someone else, then the jealousy that has his nostrils flaring will settle down and hopefully go away.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Cain asks Jackson.

  Or, maybe not.

  Jackson furrows his brow again. “I’m a friend of Ashley’s from way back. Jackson Moore.” He extends his hand to Cain with a smile on his face and a warning in his eyes.

  “How about this, asshole. You back the fuck off because it’s not ‘way back’ anymore.” Cain actually makes air quotes for emphasis and I try not to cringe. “It’s now,” he continues, placing his hands flat against the table. “And in the now, she’s mine.”

  He sounds like such a Neanderthal. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t terrified. The conversations at the tables around us have quieted, as have the clinks and clanks of people eating and drinking and having fun. Great. Now we get to be the story everyone tells about the assholes who locked horns over a pretty girl at the bar.

  “As long as she’s yours and she’s happy.” Jackson starts to turn away, let’s his gaze linger on mine, and then turns back to Cain. “But you better treat her right. Ashley Thompson deserves to be treated like a fucking princess.” He gives his full attention to me. “We should catch up sometime.”

  I open my mouth to reply and am interrupted by the clash and clatter of a chair hitting the hardwood floor as Cain launches himself to his feet. “Nope.” He puts his hands on Jackson’s chest and shoves. It’s not lost on me—hell, it’s not lost on anyone—that Cain is the one who stumbles back. Jac
kson’s wide stance has him rooted to the floor. “You’ll stay the fuck away from my girl.”

  He might as well be a Pomeranian yapping at a Doberman. As Sam comes lumbering out of the office, I sink into this weird combination of outrage and embarrassment. Who the hell does Cain think he is, treating me the way he’s been treating me and then thinking he has the right to go all jealous and possessive when an old friend turns up and shows me a sliver of kindness?

  As Cain pushes Jackson again and Sam starts yelling at him to settle down, his already reddened face going a disturbing shade of purple as his jowls quiver with the force of his words, I make a decision. I will never feel like this again.

  Never.

  Cain Holt will either learn to treat me better or he’ll learn how to clean up his own spilled Mountain Dew. I’m so tired of feeling like this. I’d rather figure out how to live on my own than deal with his shit anymore.

  Chapter Two

  “Ow! Daddy! You’re pulling!”

  I pause with the brush halfway through Georgia’s hair and let go of the long section I’m trying to wrangle into a pig-tail. It falls down over her face and eyes like a cloud of silken sunshine. She’s got her mother’s hair—so blonde and so fine it might as well be angel dust.

  “Sorry, Bug. Maybe no piggies today?”

  Georgia nods sagely, looking way older than her four years. “It’s okay, Daddy. We can try again tomorrow.” Damn if she doesn’t pat my arm and smile at me like I’m the child and she’s the adult being patient while I figure things out.

  You’d think after a year of being the only one in charge of raising this little person, I’d have figured out how to do her goddamn hair. I can analyze the stock market and see trends weeks before anyone else, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how to handle my daughter’s basic grooming needs. But seeing as how it just finally started to grow in last year, you can go ahead and color me a novice on the whole pig-tail front.