Ready For You Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Blank Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twleve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Back Matter

  Ready for You

  J.L. Berg

  dpgroup.org

  Copyright © 2014 by J.L. Berg

  All rights reserved.

  Cover designed by Sarah Hansen at OkayCreations.com

  Cover Photography by Kelsey Keeton

  © 2014 K Keeton Designs kkeetondesigns.com

  Editors: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com, Ami Deason http://bookglam.org

  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 the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Visit my website at www.jlberg.com

  ISBN-13:

  Dedication

  For my parents.

  Thank you for showing me that even though love isn’t always easy, it is well worth the fight.

  I love you.

  P.S. Thank you Dad for not reading any of my racy books. Please continue this policy in the future!

  Prologue

  ~Garrett~

  Eight Years Ago

  All I could see was blue and white. It stretched out beyond my field of vision, encompassing the grassy terrain completely, as if the entire football field had exploded into a sea of satin.

  I was a high school graduate—finally.

  Proud parents hugged their sons or daughters, congratulating their success with wishes for bright, happy futures. My fellow graduates had banded together, standing united on that vast green grass, feeling proud and utterly relieved. We had finally made it. Twelve years were behind us, and we had nothing but endless possibilities in our future. I smiled at the thought. There was only one person I wanted in my future, both imminently and permanently.

  As my parents took what was probably the hundredth picture, I saw her. Chocolate-brown hair tumbled down her back, contrasting against the stark white robe she wore. When her gaze turned upward, our eyes locked briefly from across the field, and she smiled.

  Mia Emerson. My Mia.

  She’d been the first girl I noticed freshman year and the only girl I’d paid attention to since. She was my world, and I couldn’t wait to spend the rest of my life with her. It wasn’t exactly the life our parents had imagined for us, and I knew they would disagree with the plans we’d made, but everything would work out. With Mia by my side, everything would always work out.

  Tomorrow was the beginning of us.

  With slight hesitation, she shyly walked up to my large group of family members laughing and talking loudly. She was always a bit timid around my parents even though she had no reason to be. My mother and father adored her, and nothing would change that, not even the bomb we were about to drop tomorrow morning.

  “Mia!” my mom said, greeting her enthusiastically, while pulling her into a tight hug. “Congratulations, my dear!”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Finnegan.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, sweetheart? There’s no Mrs. Finnegan around here. You can call me Mom or Laura.”

  Mia gave her a sweet smile and nodded.

  Mia hadn’t known how to react to my family the first time she met them. Her family was vastly different. They loved her in their own way, but hugs and feelings were never easy to come by in the Emerson household. Mia came from wealth, and her family did things a certain way. My touchy-feely, middle-income family looked like The Beverly Hillbillies compared to hers, especially her mother.

  “Garrett, put your arm around Mia. I need a quick picture!” Mom said, holding her digital camera up once again.

  My father chuckled, giving my mom a squeeze, as she held the camera and waited for us to pose. My mouth curled into a grin, and I wrapped my arm around Mia’s waist. I knew when my mom had said picture, she really meant we would be here for an eternity. Laura Finnegan was unable to take just one picture. I didn’t mind. Mom clicked away as we smiled and laughed. I’d gladly hold Mia in my arms forever.

  “Okay, okay, Mom! I think that’s enough! He’s going to break the camera!” my older sister, Clare, joked from behind us.

  I turned around and gave her a stern look, and she laughed. Her giant basketball stomach bounced up and down as she turned her head to shield her laughter. If she got any bigger, I swore she was going to deliver an entire litter of babies and not just the one she’d kept telling me was in there. Her husband, Ethan, bent down to place a tender kiss on her round stomach. My big sister was going to be a mother. That freaked me out a little. I spent a moment too long staring at her stomach, wondering—

  “Hey, I’ve got to meet my parents for dinner. Pick me up later?” Mia said suddenly, bringing me out of my wayward thoughts.

  Her brilliant teal-blue eyes found mine, and I nodded, pulling her closer.

  “I’ll be there,” I promised before bending down to kiss her softly.

  Our kiss lingered a bit before she got embarrassed, giggling and pushing away. My parents already knew we were head over heels in love. Did she really think I was going to keep my hands off just because my mom was around?

  Mia shot me a sly grin, promising retribution that I was sure to enjoy later, and then I watched her walk away, disappearing into the crowd of blue and white satin.

  Had I known this would be the last time I saw her, I would have never let her go.

  I would have fought for her. I would have done something, anything.

  I would have done anything, except stand there and watch her disappear…forever.

  Chapter One

  ~Garrett~

  I gasped, desperately seeking air, as I tried clawing my way back to reality. Oxygen filled my airways too quickly and burned a fiery path to my overworked lungs. I felt myself gripping, holding on…trying not to let go.

  Don’t let her go. Not again. Come back, Mia. Come back!

  My eyes flew open, and I found myself back in my cramped, lifeless bedroom, back in the present.

  Back to hell.

  I couldn’t count the number of times I’d relived that day. I would relive what had started out as a perfect day in my past, and I’d wake back up to the hell that had become my life. It was like some sick, twisted curse I’d been given to remind me just how fucked-up fate could be.

  The sheets felt cold against my sweat-slicked body, and my heart rate was still racing a marathon. A marathon I never won. Night after night, I’d awake from the same nightmare, my heart racing as I tr
ied, over and over, to change history through my dreams.

  Good luck, buddy.

  I’d given up on that hope years ago. Sitting up, I ran my hands over my face and tried to calm my nerves. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the glint of a mostly empty bottle of tequila sitting on my nightstand. Looking through my hands, which were still covering my face, I saw the bra first, then the dress, and finally the heels. They were all scattered among my own clothes on the floor.

  My head began to pound like a drum as I slowly pieced together the night before, remembering the copious amounts of alcohol I’d consumed. I’d wandered into a bar after another long day at work, and there was a woman.

  Sarah or Sierra? It didn’t matter.

  I’d told her she was beautiful and offered to buy her a drink. She’d laughed at my lame jokes, throwing her head back with enthusiasm, while resting her hand on my thigh. Her laugh had been all wrong—high-pitched and too bubbly. But nothing ever was right. I’d bought her another drink, and finally, I’d followed it up by asking if she would like to have a third one—back at my place.

  Shit.

  Running my hands through my disheveled dark hair, I slowly turned to my right, and there she was—the owner of the dress.

  Siena or Samantha?

  Sadie?

  I had no clue.

  I was not a player. I wasn’t one of those guys who would bring a different woman home every night and brag about it to his coworkers the next day. I didn’t have notches on my bedpost, and I actually really hated the one-night stand routine. But I wasn’t a saint, and sometimes, the solitude and quiet of being alone would get to be too much, overwhelming me to the point where I would become so weighed down by it that I thought I might drown. That was when I would end up here—with a nameless woman and a fucking mess to clean up.

  She really was beautiful though.

  I’m a giant asshole.

  “Hey—” I started but stopped short, remembering I had no idea what to call her.

  She stirred a bit, stretching like a cat, which made the sheet draped over her fall away to expose her naked body. I turned away.

  “Oh.” She giggled a bit. “Good morning, Adam,” she nearly purred.

  Adam, huh? I never gave my real name, but I hadn’t ever used that one before.

  She reached out, searching with her fingers, but I jumped off the bed before she could touch me. I was sober. There would be no touching now. I threw on my clothes and began running around to pick up hers. Once that was done, I risked turning around.

  Sitting up now but using the sheet to cover herself, she had that look. It was the same look they would all give me when I did this one-eighty routine. Her eyes darted around the room, and the confidence from her good-morning purr was now replaced with insecurity and awkwardness.

  “Am I missing something? I thought we had a good time last night,” she said quietly.

  I huffed out a breath. “We did,” I said even though I didn’t remember any of it. “But you need to go. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded silently, and I tried to ignore the sight of her lip quivering as I put her clothes on the bed before walking out.

  My apartment was small, bordering on claustrophobic, and it took exactly five steps to reach my kitchen from my bedroom. If I were to give someone a tour, it would last about ten seconds. I had one solitary bedroom, and it was barely big enough to fit my bed, nightstand, and dresser. There was one bathroom, and the kitchen and living room bled into each other so much that they were really considered one entity. To complete the bachelor pad, I had a small kitchen table that most people would probably consider more of a card table.

  My sister, Clare, hated this apartment. She would refuse to use the bathroom because it was too close to the couch, and she felt like people could hear her pee. She’d said the word pee in a hushed tone, like it was a bad word. I’d tried not to laugh, but she was kind of ridiculous. Also, she was right. We could hear her pee, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. She would make me move.

  After visiting for probably the tenth time and still refusing to use my bathroom, she had finally asked, Why do you live in such a shithole, Garrett?

  It was a good question. I had a good job—one that would pay for a place that could eat my current apartment for breakfast. But why bother? It was just me. It would only ever be just me.

  Just as I started to pour myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, the smell beginning to do its job as my droopy eyes were prying themselves apart, my mystery date appeared in the kitchen. She looked awkward, tugging at her wrinkled black dress, as she stared at the floor. I got the feeling that she wasn’t the type of girl who did this often.

  “I’m going to take off,” she said softly, her timid brown eyes peeking out from tousled blonde bangs.

  “Okay,” I answered, feeling like the worst kind of asshole on the planet.

  She waited for a second, obviously stalling to see if I would follow up with anything. When I didn’t, she reached for the door and took a step forward, but I stopped her.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I just…I’m…” I didn’t know what to say. I’m fucked-up? Permanently?

  She looked up at me with those sad brown eyes that were now rimmed with tears—tears that I’d put there.

  “Just answer one question. Is your name even Adam?”

  “No,” I answered honestly. I didn’t volunteer my real name. What was the point?

  Her watery eyes peered up at me as if searching for something. “You’re hurting…over a woman?” she asked, surprising me.

  My silence was enough of an answer for her, and she seemed to recover a bit from her revelation. Seeing me as a victim suddenly made her feel better. Well, at least there was that.

  “The tattoo on your arm…is it for her?”

  Inquisitive little thing, wasn’t she? I really needed to stop getting drunk.

  Her eyes wandered down to the tattoo in question, stopping at the black tip of script peeking out of my T-shirt sleeve.

  “No,” I bit out. “That’s for someone else.”

  Date night was definitely over.

  ~Mia~

  It had been eight years since I was in my home state of Virginia. Eight years since I’d left the boy who stole my heart on a hot summer night under the stars. Eight years since I’d given him nothing more than a tear-stained note, destroying everything we’d planned. Eight years since I’d driven over that state line and never looked back, ruining my life from that moment on.

  Now, fate had brought me home again. Why? I didn’t know, but like a magnet, I’d felt drawn back here, and I only hoped it wouldn’t be a mistake.

  Virginia was beautiful and picturesque as I made my way down the tree-lined back roads dotted with small farms and forgotten towns. My roots were here, buried in the sweet Southern air and the historic countryside. Crossing the city limits into Richmond felt like coming home for the first time in almost a decade. No matter where I had gone, where I’d settled down, I never felt more at home than I did here. This is where I truly belonged and it was about time I came to accept that.

  A few miles deeper into the city, I was pulling up to the curb of my longtime friend Olivia Prescott, or Liv, as I liked to call her. It had been years since we last spoke. That had been my fault, not hers. I’d cut ties with everyone from my former life when I quietly left town the night of our high school graduation. After what I’d done, I’d felt too ashamed to face anyone, even those I was closest to.

  The house was drastically different than what I’d ever envisioned for Liv. Her family, like mine, came from money. Initially, it had been why we became friends. Our parents had attended the same country club, and we would end up attending many of the same functions together. We quickly realized that we had a lot in common, and we had become fast friends.

  Liv had hated the country-club life almost as much as I had. It was so stuffy and stifling in there. I would feel like my lungs were tightening every time I’d walked inside those prete
ntious gilded walls. Our mutual hatred for the place had created a close bond, and we had always sought each other out when we were forced to attend parties or formal events. Our parents hadn’t approved of our friendship. We had been expected to act a certain way, and neither Liv nor I had fit the mold of the perfect daughter. Being together had only exacerbated the situation in our parents’ eyes.

  I’d finally taken a stand against my parents, but by the time I had, it had been too late, and it had ended up costing me everything. I could only imagine what Liv had gone through alone. As I stepped out of my car, I took my first good look at Liv’s house, and I knew she must have done the impossible. She’d done what I should have that night so long ago. She’d broken free.

  Her house was small, too small for a trust-fund baby, which we both were—or at least, we used to be. Her trust fund was substantially larger than mine since she came from a family that had a name everyone knew. My family was well-off, more so than most, but my parents always strived to appear greater than they were. My father was a lawyer, a very successful one. I never understood why he’d felt the need to kiss ass with the rich elitists of the city. But maintaining their image had been everything to my parents—or rather my mother. My father loved me, but he had been my mother’s puppet. She’d always come first. When I’d finally walked away, I’d told my mother to screw herself, and I’d left my inheritance behind. I hadn’t heard from either of them since.

  Liv lived in a part of town known for being eclectic. The neighborhood was full of artists and college students. Within walking distance, there was access to great restaurants, shops, and bars. The houses were small, historic, and full of Victorian charm. Most were divided into duplexes or townhouses to accommodate the amount of students attending the nearby university. But Liv’s home looked to be all hers with only one address painted in hot pink stenciling on a wooden sign hanging by the side of the mossy green front door.