Morrison on my mind, p.1
Morrison on My Mind, page 1
Morrison On My Mind
The Heart Falls Heroes, Book 3
K.D. Friedrich
Published: 2016
ISBN: 978-1-62210-370-6
Published by Liquid Silver Publishing. Copyright © 2016, K.D. Friedrich.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Manufactured in the USA
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Blurb
Cat Cross has had it with relationships. Her ex-fiancé destroyed her childish dreams of happily ever after when she caught him banging a high-society tramp in their bed. She should have known. Men are only good for one thing, and that’s not opening jars. Determined to keep her sex life casual, she refuses to mix emotion with physical pleasure. No man is worth the risk of another broken heart. Not even the hotter than hell fireman Stan Morrison.
For months, Cat has resisted Stan’s sexy charm and good looks. He’s a temptation she can’t afford to entertain. But after a few drinks and one night of incredible sex, she’s agreed to an exclusive friends-with-benefits agreement with the one man able to set fire to her frozen heart.
Stan’s had his fill of casual sex. He’s ready to settle down, and there’s no better place to take root than his hometown of Heart Falls. Unfortunately, the girl he has his sights on would rather leap into a fiery pit than be tied to any one man. Knowing she’s hesitant to consent to anything permanent, he agrees to her non-relationship contract, planning to convince her he’s worth the risk.
With their sexual agreement set, Cat is confident she’ll be able to satisfy her libido while keeping her emotions in check. Stan is determined to pleasure her body and win her heart. Love was never part of the deal and is strictly against the rules. But as everyone knows, rules were meant to be broken, and Stan intends to rip apart every last one of them.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank all those who helped make this book a reality. To my family and friends, thank you for your continued support. Writing is a dream come true for me, and I wouldn't be able to do this without you. I’d like to send an extra special thank-you to my editor, Jean Cooper, and Liquid Silver Books for giving me the opportunity to make my book the best it could be. Finally, to all of you who have purchased my books, thank you so much for giving my stories a chance.
Chapter 1
“HE did what? He had some nerve…What did he expect you to do, pay for it yourself?”
Stan Morrison glared over his menu at the attractive brunette across from him, who was rambling on her cell phone to one of her friends. A waitress hurried past them with a large round tray, bringing with her the scents of homemade sauce and fresh, warm bread. The restaurant bustled with activity. Not an empty seat in the house.
Stan cocked his head. What planet did this woman come from? Bitchdom? Annoyed, he returned his gaze to the specials of the night, highlighted in bright gold. His mother needed to stop setting him up with these drama queens on steroids. God bless her, he loved his mom, but five blind dates in three weeks pushed well past his level of patience, as each woman had been more disastrous than the last. If he had to go out with one more superficial, humorless, egotistical, narcissistic nutjob, he’d lose his damn mind.
He had moved back to his hometown of Heart Falls, a relatively small township in New York, less than a year ago. Before that, he had spent a few years living in Manhattan. He’d met all different kinds of people in the Big Apple, including many carbon copies of the female sitting across from him. He’d expected to find characters like this in the big city, not here in Heart Falls, but as he’d soon discovered, country settings didn’t equate good temperament. Especially when dealing with the upper-class members of the community. Although his father had made a good living, his parents remained humble. Many of their friends and associates were another story.
Oh, don’t misunderstand—his date of the night’s outer beauty rivaled the women plastered on the pages of every fashion magazine. Unfortunately, their inner beasts had smacked them all with an internal fugly stick.
His phone vibrated on the table. He wasn’t on call at the firehouse tonight, but you never knew. Dropping his gaze, he checked out the display. The word MOM flared in bright, bold letters, signaling an incoming text. He sighed. His parents may have retired to Boca Raton, but distance didn’t stop his mother from weaseling her way into his life. The woman wanted more grandkids in a bad way. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that whether he had a wife or not, he wasn’t ready to be a father. He adored kids. Someday, he’d have a few—maybe three strapping boys—but not now. He hadn’t even turned thirty yet. When he found a woman to marry, he intended to enjoy her company before he shared her with a bunch of mini-Morrisons.
He cast his date another fleeting glare. Amanda sported the I’m-pretty-look-at-me style this evening. Apparently, some designer named Pierre created her entire outfit. How did he know? She’d made a point of telling him.
This wasn’t the kind of woman to throw back a couple of beers, settle back into his arms, and watch a raunchy comedy with a big bowl of buttery popcorn. Nope, Amanda would expect to be coddled, catered to, and spoiled. Often. Relationships with women like her were a full-time job, and personally, he wasn’t looking for more work. He wanted a partnership. He wanted to build a life with someone by his side, not be the only one swinging a hammer.
Sure, Stan planned to pamper his woman. After all, being raised by a queen and sired by a king, he’d spent his entire life watching his parents adore each other. Their twenty-seven-year marriage could rival any fairy tale. If someone needed a photographic example of happily ever after, Stan would hand them a picture of his parents on their last vacation.
“Did you see her outfit? I’m shocked. She dared to show up in those rags…As if. More like Ms. Piggy.” Amanda’s giggle dragged over Stan’s skin like a rusty razor.
Stan gripped the menu tighter. Either complete desperation fueled his mom’s relentless behavior, or she didn’t know him at all. None of these women came close to his type. Dear old Mom needed to stop grasping at straws, because she kept grabbing the short one.
Stan sighed. She did have another son. Yeah, his big brother, Jacob, had two kids. Then again, the possibility of Jacob and his parents making amends was about as likely as the New York Knicks winning a final this year.
The waitress came over and stopped in front of the table. “Welcome to Bella’s. Sorry for the wait. It’s crazy here tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks?”
He glanced at his companion. She ignored him and the server. I can’t wait to drop this woman off.
“How you doing, sweetheart?” he asked the young waitress. He noticed her discomfort. Embarrassed by Amanda’s behavior, he flashed a reassuring grin. “Get the lady a glass of your best white wine, and I’ll have a Budweiser. Oh, add a plate of those mozzarella sticks too. I heard they’re phenomenal.”
The waitress offered him a faint smile. “Sure thing. Coming right up, sir.” After tossing a scowl at Amanda, the girl hurried off.
His date continued her ranting conversation, unaffected. Stan grabbed his phone and sent his mother a quick text, thanking her for his wonderful evening. He added an unhappy smiley face to emphasize his sarcasm.
He appreciated his mother’s efforts. He wanted to find someone too. While a lot of guys shied away from commitment, love, and marriage, Stan revered them. He’d done the one-night-stand thing and singles clubs while living in Manhattan. Working as a New York City firefighter offered him plenty of women to pick from. Women adored the hero image, and he used their adoration to the fullest.
Forget it. When he did the FDNY calendar, he couldn’t keep the ladies away.
Although he enjoyed the excitement of a different girl every night, the years of meaningless encounters left him empty. After a few years of one-night stands, he longed to lie with a woman who not only sparked his body, but soothed his mind, raised his hopes, and awakened his fantasies.
He smirked. The guys back at Ladder Company 2 in Manhattan would have called him a pussy for wanting intimacy over no-strings-attached sex, even though most of them were married with kids. Bunch of damn hypocrites. But he’d stopped caring a long time ago.
Yeah, Stan wanted what his parents had. Maybe that’s why he bought his parents’ large Victorian when they retired and moved down to Florida. Deep down, he hoped the old house would bring him the same luck and joy it brought them. Almost three decades together and they were still in love. Best friends, their deep bond showed in everything they did or said. They kissed. They held hands. After hearing some of the sounds coming from their bedroom before they moved to Florida, he knew his parents had an active sex life as well. He shivered. Not a thought he cared to entertain, but to know the spark existed between them gave him hope.
He wanted the same passion. He’d thought he might have found that with Cara Sands. They’d been friends since high school. They had a special camaraderie. A connection he hadn’t found with any other woman. One he had wished would turn
She deserved better. Stan knew it. Pete knew it. John, her brother, knew it. Shit, even Cara might have thought it, but in the end, she married the weathered marine she’d loved since second grade.
He had to admit Pete did right by her. He stopped drinking, signed up for group sessions to help him deal with his post-traumatic stress disorder, and made her happy.
Now Cara had a beautiful little girl, Leia. Good thing Pete had done the right thing, because if Stan had been forced to watch her cry one more time over that stubborn jarhead, he’d have kicked the man’s ass all over Heart Falls.
The waitress returned with their drinks and appetizer. Amanda had finally disconnected her call and started to sip her wine. He ordered the penne a la vodka and, of course, Amanda got a salad, dressing on the side. Stan took a cheese stick, dipped it in the sauce, and shoved it into his mouth. He offered one to her, knowing she would refuse, but he needed to be a gentleman.
“Are you kidding me? Those are loaded with fat.”
“Much like your head,” he mumbled.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing, sweetheart.”
He popped another fatty cheese stick in his mouth and sighed, loudly. God, please give me a woman who loves to eat, and I’ll be happy.
Soon their dinner arrived. He quickly ate his penne while she nibbled on her salad. After dinner, they drove over to his favorite hangout, the Billiards Bar and Grill.
Stan hadn’t seen the bar this crowded in years.
What, are they giving away drinks?
Granted, he hadn’t been here in a while, what with his attempts to find flexible work, settling into his new house, volunteering at the Heart Falls Fire Department, and his incessant blind dates with snobs.
He hadn’t bothered bringing the other women here, because their tastes were too rich for the local bar, but tonight he didn’t care. He needed a dose of normal, and Amanda needed a bout of reality. If the princess didn’t like it, he’d pay for her cab ride home. Nothing would stop him from having a beer in his favorite place.
Maybe some guys from Engine 22, Ladder 7 would be here tonight. Ross and Zach hung out at Billiards Bar from time to time, though some of the other men preferred a pool hall on the other side of town called Shooters. He’d met a great bunch of brothers at the Heart Falls station. Not a day went by that he didn’t thank God he got in there.
Lucky for him, the firehouse had needed an experienced firefighter. They’d had two guys retire in two months. Otherwise, he might have had to go through the academy again. As long as he passed the written and physical tests, he had the job. When desperate, smaller towns tended to make exceptions.
Amanda clung to his side, fear and a healthy touch of disgust in her expression.
You’d think she had set foot in hell, judging by her scowl. He had to admit, the usual crowd who frequented Billiards consisted of local thirty-somethings trying to get away from the wife and kids. Tonight’s horde, however, contained a mixture of tattooed bikers, rockers, and scantily clad women.
Stan didn’t mind. He refused to stereotype anyone. He’d learned a long time ago that a man’s actions, not his reflection, defined his character. Judging by Amanda’s curled lip and narrowed brow, she didn’t share Stan’s opinion.
He tried to squeeze them through the small space between a wide man with enough hair growing on his back to make a wig and his heavily tattooed companion, whose dress rode high and dipped low.
“Excuse me, my man.” Stan patted his back and tried again to get through.
Amanda’s nails dug into Stan’s bicep when the woman turned and grinned. She playfully smacked the man’s shoulder. “Bill, get the hell out of their way, you big old bear.” The man flashed an apologetic grin and scooted over to make room for them to pass. “Sorry, honey, the man has selective hearing.”
Stan flashed a smile. “No worries.”
Amanda mumbled something that sounded a lot like, “Dirty trailer trash.”
They continued toward the bar. Amanda scrunched her nose at anyone who dared come within one foot of her. She need not have worried. Her snooty glare deterred even the boldest barfly from copping a feel.
After some struggle, they made it to the bar. He signaled to the cute redhead working behind the counter. He leaned over. “What’s going on tonight? You guys are packed.”
“Live band night. It’s the third weekend, and it’s really drawing them in. What do you need, sugar?” the bartender asked.
“A bottle of Bud and a white zinfandel, please.”
The bartender glanced at his date, lifted her brow, smirked, and then hurried off to get his order. He admired the sway of the cute redhead’s hips before turning back to his date to find her back on her phone…again. This time, judging by the way her fingers flew over the display, she texted some choice words to her friend.
He leaned over to Amanda. “Live band tonight. That’s why it’s so crowded.”
She rolled her eyes. “Probably some lowlife biker band.”
The bartender came back with his drinks. He gave her twenty dollars and told her to keep the change. After a long pull at his drink, he sat back as one of the bands started to play. His date didn’t say much. Not that he’d hear her, anyway, over the loud music. She didn’t need to talk. Her narrowed eyes and frown said it all.
After a few minutes, he leaned over. “I’ll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom.” Truth be told, he needed a break from her dirty looks and sneers before he told her what she could do with her attitude.
“You’re leaving me here?”
“Well, you can come with me, if you want, but I doubt they’ll let you in, sweetheart. And something tells me you don’t want to be standing outside the men’s room for too long.”
“I’ll wait here.”
He nodded, hopped off the stool, and headed back toward the restrooms.
Chapter 2
STAN pulled out his phone and saw a text from his mom.
She comes from a good family, it said.
He grinned and quickly typed back, She must be adopted then. He chuckled and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
He glanced up to find Cat Cross strutting toward him. Men on both sides of her stared, checking out her ass as she passed. His friend Pete’s cousin had a way of catching a man’s gaze, Stan’s included. He rolled an appreciative gaze over her fine hourglass form with a slow glide. Damn, the woman heated his blood like no other.
Even though he’d hung out with her a few times over the last few months, the blonde bombshell remained elusive. Cara gave Stan only basic information on Cat, like name and current relationship status. The need to dig into her utmost desires, dreams, and history made him crazy. He left the lack of juicy tidbits alone. He knew if he wanted to learn anything more he’d have to get a shovel and break ground himself.
Yeah…right. Easier said than done.
Every time he asked Cat about her life before she moved here, she’d shift the conversation in a direction that made him blush. Stan, a man known to make a stripper flush, suffered more hot flashes in Cat’s company than a three-alarm fire.
An enigma wrapped in a body made for sin, Cat kept her past, even some of her present, a mystery. Her personal exposure went no further than a snarky attitude with a fun-girl exterior.
Case in point—tonight, she wore a skintight black tank top. Her breasts flowed over the scooped neckline, creating a deep valley of cleavage that he wanted to dive his face right into. The vivid tattoos on both her arms drew his attention next. He’d have to ask her the artist’s name. The skin art exhibited flawless skill, adding a naughty, wicked air to her body language, balancing out her softness with a tough edge sure to slice through any man’s resistance.
Her platinum curls brushed her shoulders, sweeping her soft flesh with each sway of her round hips. She encased her plush, shapely legs in a pair of tight stonewashed jeans. The hem of each leg touched the floor, the denim a tad too long for her petite frame. She wore her usual Converse sneakers. A diamond stud on the side of her nose caught the light and sparkled. Her bright irises sucked him in every time. The large sapphire pools surrounded by thick raven-painted lashes glowed beneath the club lights. Thin black lines contoured her almond-shaped eyes, making them exotic. She kept her lips natural, no more than a hint of clear gloss coating her mouth. Not a single blemish marred her smooth porcelain skin. With her pale complexion, she’d be crazy to worship the sun.
