Infatuation

  Table of Contents

  INFATUATION

  Copyright

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Aurora Rose Reynolds

  About Aurora Rose Reynolds

  About Rochelle Paige

  Other Books by Rochelle Paige

  Copyright © 2019 ARR-INC. E-Book and Print Edition

  Cover design by Sara Eirew

  Formatting by CP Smith

  Infatuation E-book ISBN

  978-0-578-40929-0

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locals are entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  Prologue

  JUSTIN

  HEARING THE RATTLE of an old car and the sound of squeaky brakes, I press Pause on Call of Duty and get up from my couch to go to the window. I pull back the curtain just enough to see outside without drawing attention to myself.

  It’s dark out, but the light from the street lamp in the middle of the parking lot has cast a glow on the car beneath it. The rusty, beat up, powder-blue Buick needed to go to the junkyard a few years ago. The bumper is barely hanging on by the ropes someone tied around it. The back right taillight is covered in red tape that is peeling away, and I know from seeing the car in daylight that there is more rust on the car than there is paint.

  As the driver side door opens, my heart starts to pound franticly against my ribcage, the same thing it does every time I’m able to catch a glimpse of her. My neighbor, the cute little blonde who moved in with Shelly, a woman who lives in my building. I’ve never talked to her before, but I’ve watched her more than is probably healthy.

  I watch her get out of the car and grimace when she tries to push the door closed and it doesn’t latch but swings right back open. “Jesus,” I hiss when she takes a step back and kicks the door with so much force that the car rocks from side to side. As she blows a piece of her long blonde hair out of her face, it flutters in the light as she stops to rests her hands on her very round stomach. She looks about seven months pregnant, if not more. Then again, it could just be her petite size making her look further along.

  When she finally starts toward the building, I wonder for the millionth time what her story is and how she became friends with Shelly. She looks and dresses nothing like the other women Shelly hangs out with. I’ve never seen her wearing makeup, and her clothes… well, her clothes leave everything to the imagination. They’re baggy and do nothing to accentuate her figure.

  As she gets closer, I notice the dark circles under her eyes and the exhaustion in her features. Every time I see her, she’s either coming from or going to work. Okay, I should say I think she’s going to and coming home from work. I’ve never actually spoken to her before, and she has no idea I even exist.

  When she reaches her apartment door, she pauses and drops her chin to her chest. Even though she’s in profile, I can see the annoyance and deflation on her face as she places her hand on the doorknob. And as she pushes in, allowing the loud music to stream outside, a roomful of people can be seen.

  Seeing that, my fists clench. The urge to protect her, to do something, has me moving to my computer. Twenty minutes later, I go to the window and smile as ten people along with Shelly leave the apartment when the police show up.

  Having done my part to take care of whoever she is, I go to the couch, sit down, put my headphones back on, and start up Call of Duty once more.

  Chapter 1

  JUSTIN

  HEADING FOR MY Rover the next morning, I look to the left when I hear, “You stupid piece of crap. Open. Up. Now!” I spot my neighbor pushing and tugging on her car door, trying to pry it open.

  I walk across the lot toward her then stand back, tucking my hands into the front pockets of my jeans and trying not to laugh at how adorable she looks yelling at her car. “Need some help?” I finally ask, taking pity.

  Startled, she jumps back and her head flies in my direction.

  I pull in a shocked breath when her eyes meet mine. I knew she was going to be beautiful up close, but I didn’t realize how fucking gorgeous she is. Her blonde hair is up in some kind of bun on top of her head, drawing attention to her big blue eyes, soft, feminine face, and totally fucking kissable full lips.

  “Um… no. No, thank you. I’ve got it.” She waves me off, putting one foot on the car next to the door and pulling harder than she was before.

  Knowing she’s going to end up hurting herself, I get closer and remove her hand from the door handle. “Let me help,” I tell her gently.

  “Seriously, I almost had it.”

  I ignore her protest and move her out of the way then pull on the door, expecting it to open for me, but then feel like an ass when it doesn’t budge. Pulling it again with more force than before, I shake my head when nothing happens. How fucking hard did she kick it closed last night? “It’s stuck,” I mutter more to myself than her, and she giggles. Turning to see her face, I watch her lick her lips and I fight back a groan.

  “I may have shut it a little too hard last night,” she whispers, ducking her head, but I want her eyes on me. I’m not done looking at her.

  “What’s your name?” Her eyes fly back up to meet mine, and I’m sure my question sounded like a demand mixed with a growl, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

  “Me?” She looks around like there might be some random person outside with us that she didn’t notice before.

  “Yeah, what’s your name?” I smile.

  “I don’t know if I should tell you.” She frowns at me, causing a little crease to form between her brows.

  “You don’t know if you should tell me your name?”

  “I don’t know you.”

  Chuckling, I move away from the door toward her then stop when her body gets visibly tight and her eyes fill with fear. My jaw tics and I feel my heart squeeze at her reaction. Pulling in a breath through my nose to calm myself down, I tell her softly, “My name’s Justin. I live in apartment 210.” I tilt my head toward the building behind us, hoping she’ll feel more comfortable knowing I’m her neighbor.

  “Justin.” She swings her eyes from me to the building and back again.

  “Justin,” I confirm.

  Licking her bottom lip, she takes a step toward me then stops and sticks out her hand. “I’m Aubrey. I live with Shelly.”

  “Nice to meet you, Aubrey.” I take her hand in mine, realizing how delicate and fragile she is. She’s so damn tiny her head barely reaches the middle of my chest.

  “You too.” She pulls her hand from mine and takes a step back. “Shelly said you’re nice.”

  That news
is surprising. I’ve only spoken to Shelly a handful of times since she moved in. Then again, she probably thinks I’m nice because I don’t call the cops on her every time she has a party, which is pretty much every damn night.

  “Crap, I’m totally gonna be late to work,” she says, looking at her phone, and I notice it’s the kind of phone you buy for twenty dollars, the kind I use as a throwaway when working cases and don’t want anyone to be able to trace a call back to me.

  “Have you tried your other doors?” I ask, and her cheeks get even darker as she presses her lips together and tucks her phone into her back pocket. “Your other doors don’t work either,” I guess from the look on her face.

  “No, only the driver side door opens. The other doors were welded shut, because they kept opening on the fly while I was driving.”

  “Jesus.” I run a hand over my head and look at the car. I don’t think she’d approve of me taking her car to the junkyard where it belongs and buying her a new one. At least not yet anyway.

  “I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than stand out here with me. I’ll just go in and ask Shelly if I can use her triple-A. Hopefully they can send someone out who can pull the door open for me.”

  She starts to walk away, but I can’t let her go.

  “I can drop you at work.”

  She turns to look at me over her shoulder and smiles a smile that seems to make time come to a standstill. “That’s really sweet, but—”

  “Sweetheart,” I cut her off. “It’s gonna take at least twenty or more minutes for someone to show up, and you already said you’re gonna be late for work.” Looking at me then her car, I can tell she’s torn. “I promise you’ll be safe with me.” I draw an X with my finger over my heart. “Scout’s honor.”

  She turns around, studying me, and then tips her head to the side. “Were you a Boy Scout?”

  “No,” I tell her truthfully, and her lips lift into a gorgeous smile then she laughs once more. This time, the sound hits me right in my gut. “You can tell Shelly you’re going with me and send her a picture of my license.”

  She blows out a breath then nods. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. My car’s right over here.” I lead her over to my Range Rover that is parked on the other side of the lot, clicking the alarm off. I open the door for her, making sure she’s settled before I slam it closed. Jogging around the back, I get in behind the wheel and feel myself relax.

  “This is a nice car,” she says, and I smile then press the button that starts it up.

  “It was a gift from a friend of mine,” I tell her, and her eyes get big.

  “A gift?”

  “Well, more of a bribe,” I clarify. “My buddy in Hawaii tried to bribe me into coming to work for him with this car.”

  “You’re in Tennessee,” she points out softly, looking around the interior of the SUV.

  “Didn’t say I took the bribe.”

  “But you still have this car.”

  “Yep,” I agree with a smile, backing out of my parking space.

  “He didn’t get mad that you kept his car and didn’t accept his bribe?”

  “Nah, he knew before he tried to bribe me that I wouldn’t leave my job.”

  “Then why did he try?” she asks, sounding adorably confused.

  Shrugging, I smile. “Why does anyone do anything?”

  “Good point.”

  “Where do you work?” I question, stopping at the intersection that will lead us out of the apartment complex.

  “I…” She pauses, and I look over at her and find her worrying her bottom lip. “Do you know Dolly’s on West 21st ?” she asks quietly, and my head twitches. Dolly’s is a strip club, one of the bigger ones in town.

  Beating back the sudden annoyance, jealousy, and possessiveness zapping through every cell in my body, I jerk up my chin. “Yeah, I know it.”

  “I…. That’s where I work.”

  Well that answered the question of how she knows Shelly, since Shelly works at that club and a few others around town.

  My eyes drop to her round stomach. “You’re pregnant,” I point out the obvious, not that she’s not beautiful, and not that some men don’t get off on pregnant women. But I can’t imagine her working at a club like that.

  “I help with the books, and on the weekends, I do the girls’ makeup and hair if it’s slow. Johnny… Johnny, my boss, has been sweet about helping me out, especially when so many other people have turned me down,” she murmurs.

  Noticing her chin wobbling, my teeth grind together. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I won’t.” She shakes her head. “I don’t cry. I never cry.” The tone of her voice puts me on edge, but when she turns her head and I see the broken look in her eyes, something in me snaps, and I vow in that moment to do everything in my power to protect her. Always.

  I reach over and take her hand, and her body jolts from the contact.

  “I’m okay.” She tries to pull her hand free, but I don’t let her go. Instead, I thread my fingers through hers.

  “My statement was insensitive.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispers, staring at our hands.

  “It’s not, but it’s sweet that you’re telling me it is.” I squeeze her fingers and she looks up at me. “Let me make it up to you. Have dinner with me tonight.”

  Her fingers convulse around mine and her eyes grow in surprise. But then they dull a moment later before she looks away and out the window. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t have anything to wear to dinner.” She pulls at the front of her baggie shirt before letting it fall back in place. I want to tell her it doesn’t matter what she wears, but I know women. I know it will matter to her.

  “I’ll cook. We can have dinner at my place.”

  “You… you’ll cook for me?” She looks me over.

  “Okay, so I won’t cook. I’ll order in.” I smile, and she laughs.

  Her eyes drop to my mouth and her bottom lip goes between her teeth before she whispers, “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I ask just to confirm.

  “Yes, okay.”

  Hearing that, I grin. “Cool.” I don’t let her hand go as I drive her across town, and surprisingly she doesn’t try to pull away. When I reach the parking lot for Dolly’s, I drive her around the back to the employee entrance.

  “Thank you for the ride.” She lets my hand go to take off her seatbelt.

  “Do you want me to pick you up?”

  “No, I’ll just get a cab.” She smiles, opening her door, and I wrap my fingers around her wrist to stop her before she can hop out. She turns to look at me.

  “I’m not letting you take a cab when I can drive you. What time do you get off?”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “Sweetheart, what time do you get off?” My tone leaves no room for argument.

  She stares at me for a few seconds before letting out a huff that causes that ever-present piece of hair in her face to float up and drop back down.

  “Normally, I get off at 5:00 p.m., but some days I get done at 4:30.”

  “I’ll be here at 4:30 then.” I let her go.

  She slides out but stops to look at me before shutting the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

  I lift my chin and she smiles, shutting the door. I watch her until she’s inside then take off out of the parking lot, heading to the gym before work.

  Chapter 2

  JUSTIN

  MOVING FROM THE kitchen to the living room, I stop in my tracks, looking at Aubrey asleep on my couch with her head on the armrest, her feet tucked up near her ass, and her hand resting over her belly. Letting out a breath, I move to the couch and stand over her, watching her sleep.

  When I picked her up from work, she looked tired but happy to see me. I knew she had to be exhausted, so when I got her to my place, I showed her around then
told her to rest while I put in our order for Chinese food and returned a couple phone calls. Apparently, I took longer than I thought. I pull the blanket off the back of the couch and lay it over her then turn on the TV and lower the volume.

  Hearing her whimper a few minutes later, I turn to look at her. Whatever she’s dreaming about, it isn’t good. Her body is writhing and her breathing is labored and choppy. “Aubrey.” I reach out and touch her shoulder, and her foot swings out, kicking me in the stomach so hard I grunt.

  “No!” she screams, scooting away from me, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Jesus,” I whisper, and her eyes focus on me and her hands cover her mouth.

  “I’m so…. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” She whispers, “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, are you okay?” I ask, and her face pales as she scoots farther away. “I’d never hurt you,” I tell her, watching her hands clench into fists. “Never,” I repeat.

  “I need to go.” She jumps off the couch.

  “Sweetheart.” I reach out to grab her, but she dodges my hand.

  “I’m so sorry… so, so sorry.” She grabs her sweatshirt, and before I can stop her, she’s gone, slamming the door behind herself.

  “Fuck.” I rub my hands down my face then lean forward, wrapping my palm around the back of my neck. My eyes catch on her sneakers in front of my couch as someone knocks on the door. Hoping it’s her, I get up to answer it, but when I swing the door open, disappointment settles in my gut. It’s not her; it’s our dinner. I quickly pay then drop the bag in the kitchen before picking up her shoes.

  Knocking on Shelly’s apartment door, I wait only a moment for it to open and am a little surprised when Aubrey pokes her head out.

  “You forgot your shoes,” I tell her quietly, holding them out to her.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, taking them and starting to shut the door as I hear them hit the floor with a thud.

  “Your food is upstairs. Do you want me to bring it to you? Or you could come eat dinner with me.”

  “I… I’m not hungry,” she says, looking up at me, and her stomach takes that moment to gurgle loudly. I raise a brow. “Okay, I’m hungry, but I….” Her cheeks get pink and I take a step closer to her, watching her eyes widen.