Page 1 of His Valentine

PROLOGUE

KENNEDY

Three Weeks Earlier

“Please don’t do this to me, not now.” I cross my fingers, mumbling under my breath as I navigate my car off the highway and into the nearest gas station. The last time this happened, Asher and Lennie saved my bacon, and I knew after our stepdad, Mike, Band-Aided my car, it wouldn’t last me much longer. Still, me being the stubborn woman I am, I didn’t take the suggestion of borrowing money from the three main men in my life. Yep, my brother tried, and I flat out refused. My father did the same after showing up the next day while Mike started to work on said vehicle. Every last one of them told me what would happen if I didn’t get my shit together. Even Mike and Mom offered to give me a loan or to take their spare car. Not happening. They may carpool together a lot but not enough to go down to one vehicle. Which left me with few options. Taking more from them than I already do is out of the question. My only hope has been saving up enough money to put a hefty down payment on a new-to-me car.

“Fat lot of good that’s been.” A single mother saving money? Couldn’t be me. I’ve done well on my own even when Briar’s dad has a hard time being consistent with child support. Never mind the fact he seems to appear or disappear like an apparition. I wish there were an honest to goodness reason I could give Briar why Chris, her dad, is the man he is, but there’s nothing. No childhood trauma, no abuse in the form of any substance. The best way to describe him is a wanderer; he goes from place to place, barely making it in one spot before drifting to the next.

When we first met, I loved that quality about him, until I realized what all it entailed, plus the lack of stability. Yeah, it’s not for me. When Briar came along, he’d barely make his portion of the rent, let alone cover any of the other bills. I was younger than I am now, obviously, trying to get over a man whom I wouldn’t have a future with simply because he never saw me that way. And the man I was trying to get over was not my daughter’s father. Why I thought I could make it work with sort of a fill-in is anyone’s guess. Allowing Chris to move in with me… not my brightest idea, either, but when a surprise pregnancy comes along, you almost grasp at straws to make it work.

We sat down, talked it out, and found a solution that didn’t involve him living with me and loving him from afar, in the terms of he’s my daughter’s father. When you have to be self-reliant, it goes without saying the love you thought you were building slowly drifts away. While I will never understand how he can do what he does to Briar, coming and going as he pleases, that doesn’t mean I don’t love him in a platonic way. I also don’t have to like Chris, and, in this instant, I really have no fucks to give about him.

I turn my blinker on and ease my foot off the gas. The jolting of the car has me switching to the brake immediately and holding on to the steering wheel for dear life. It seems my car has started to shake, rattle, and roll. My one saving grace is Briarisn’t with me to witness another disaster in the making. The last one was plenty enough of a hassle for my sweet baby to deal with, and all for the sake of ice cream. Totally worth it for my girl to be happy with her sweet treat, to see her uncle and to welcome Lennie into our family. Fortunately, Briar is at my mom’s for the evening and missing this go around. Mom called while I was on my lunch break and told me it’d been too long since she had her granddaughter. My mom and Asher both think the world of Briar and, truth be told, I could never be more thankful. My dad would take her in a heartbeat, too, but his wife and I don’t always see eye to eye. She has her kids, and Dad has his type of situation. Whereas Mike doesn’t think that in the least; everyone is family, and if you don’t like it, well, he thinks you can get fucking lost.

Anyways, it’s Friday night, Briar is at Mom and Mike’s, so I’m childfree and chose to work late, because what else am I supposed to do? I’d usually hit up a friend, see if they want to go out to dinner or grab a drink, but it was last minute. That kind of makes it hard when our small group has their own life with work, kids, and husbands. My girl gang consists of Trina, short for Katrina, who’s married to her high school sweetheart, has two young boys aged two and three. Then there’s Samantha; she’s unmarried, child-less, and lives the jet-set life, currently working in New York on a big project. She won’t be home for another two weeks. Which is also why when we have a girls’ night out planned, it’s usually at one of our houses or at a restaurant, and we carry it on to a bar where we can either sing karaoke as well as dance the night away.

“Shew,” I let out a relieved breath now that I’m coasting into the well-lit parking lot of a gas station. One of those big ones right off the main artery in our small town, it’s a chain, has a trucker area, and a fast food joint on the side. Any other day, I’d splurge and get a fountain Coke with the good ice and maybe aside of French fries, but since my checking account is practically rolling zeroes, that’s not gonna happen. My savings account has a measly amount of money and probably not nearly enough for a down payment for a car, let alone floating a car payment, which is going to be nearly impossible. It’d be really helpful if Chris could catch up on a child support payment or ten, then maybe I’d be able to feel like the debt I’m drowning in isn’t suffocating me.

My car dies the minute I place itPark, lights out, key in the ignition, and forget about trying to turn the key any way but off. I lose it. Every fiber of my being comes out as I beat on the wheel so hard the palms of my hands will likely end up bruised. I grip it and shake my head, hair bouncing, blood boiling, and I let out a cacophony of noises, “Stupid, motherfucking, cock-sucking, blood-sucking piece of shit! Why is life choosing to screw with me!” My feet bounce up and down as I stomp my heels. I’m literally throwing a temper tantrum. At least Briar, my brother, or his plethora of buddies aren’t here to watch me in all my spectacular-ness. Just as I’m winding down from my tirade, I hear atap, tap, tap. I whip my head toward the noise and am about lose my shit some more at what I see. Of all the luck a woman can have, she can’t even have a boo-hoo bash, woe-is-me misery fest, or whatever the hell you call it, alone.

“Son of a biscuit, you scared the shit out of me, Trent Hawthorne. What in the hell?” I say through the closed window. I go to hit the button to roll the window down when I remember my car is shut off and now, I’m left with the only option of opening the door and sliding out.

“That’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you, Kennedy.” He takes a step back, so I can open the door. I take the keys out of the ignition, drop them in the cupholder, and slide out. A few seconds later, I’m standing in front of him after hip-checking the door and using it as a prop to keep me upright. I’m unpreparedfor the smirk Trent sends my way, the slight lift of one corner of his lips, a teasing glance at what is probably the most devastatingly handsome smile a guy could send a girl’s way.

“I learned from the best,” I reply, a slight tremble in my voice. This happens every single time he’s near. My insides quiver and I’ll usually find a reason to retreat, except lately, it’s been impossible, especially right now.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” Trent should know. Even though my brother and his friends tried to shield me from their crazy antics, it never worked. Any chance I got to tag along with them, I took it. As the years went on and I matured, the less I was left out. It also meant drinking with the guys, playing baseball with the adult league they formed, and hearing them talking shit about one another to each other. You kind of become accustomed and immune to their line of crap.

What it doesn’t prepare you for is the realization of feelings you never felt before, causing you to slowly dissociate, and the object of my affections is standing right in front of me.

Trent Hawthorne has always been the one you want but can never have.

He’s unattainable.

He’s unreachable.

He’s everything a woman could ever want yet will never have.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. There’s still so much I need to do. You know, like call a tow truck driver. Again. Call someone for a ride because if anyone ever found out I rode with a stranger, whether it’s hired or not, I’d be in for a very rude awakening. One I don’t need or want. Which means I need to shut this conversation down and get this shit show on the road.

“Getting gas before heading home. You?” Trent is standing there in business casual attire. As a detective in the Oak County Police Department, the city where the station is located, a biggerone outside of Whispering Oaks, he makes the commute back and forth. Which isn’t very far considering the interstate runs through both areas. Still, it makes for weird hours, weirder than my brother’s, who’s a firefighter. It also includes a different wardrobe, that of business casual compared to what I usually see him in on his days off.

“Oh, you know, stopping to grab a bite to eat before heading home.” I cross my fingers behind my back so Trent can’t call me out on my lie. Oh, what the hell is wrong with me? I’m thirty-three, for crying out loud. I have a six-year-old daughter. Why the hell am I worried about what he has to say?

“That the story you’re sticking to? You want to tell me the truth, or do you wanna tell me the reason you were going nine rounds, beating up your car like you’re fighting Mike Tyson, Kennedy?” I can see I’m getting Detective Harthorne and not Trent at this point.

“I’ll plead the Fifth. It was great seeing you. We should do it again sometime, big guy.” He moves in closer, and my body gravitates toward him. The palm of my hand goes to his chest, tapping it lightly as I make to kiss his cheek. Only Trent Hawthorne moves at the last minute, and my lips land on his. I feel his hand grip my hip, fingers digging into the fleshy part of my ass, and then we’re a tangle of limbs as he works my mouth in a way I’ve never experienced before. Lips and tongues, hands and fingers, body meeting body. A full-on make-out session in a gas station parking lot. I can feel the effect I have on his body; the same could be said for myself. My core aches with a building desire as his length thickens behind the zipper of his black slacks.

“Trent.” His name slips from my lips, and just as I’m sliding my hand upward to wrap around his neck…

He pulls back.

“Fuck.” One simple word holds so much meaning. The locking of his body. The way he’s no longer looking at me. In fact, it’s anywherebutme. He’s locked me out. “We shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t, just don’t.” There’s only so much a girl can take until she’s done, and today, I’m done. I step back, hold my hand up, and shake my head, telling him in no uncertain terms to not continue.

“Get in the car, Kennedy. I’ll call a tow in for your vehicle, let Asher know that I’m bringing you home, and then let Mike know it’s being sent to his house.” I roll my eyes and spin around, giving him my back, then climb back in my car to get everything I need out of it. My phone, my purse, my lunchbox, and, of course, the big jerk face does the one thing that will melt my heart. He grabs Briar’s booster seat from the backseat without me having to ask him to. The tears I’m holding at bay slowly slide down my cheeks. I hurriedly try to blink them away. I’ll lick my wounds, drown out my sorrows, and cry myself to sleep. Right now, I only need to get through the next fifteen minutes, then I can lock myself away, turn my phone on silent, and figure out my life. I’ve got a daughter to provide for. The last thing I need is to cry over a man.

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