More than i could, p.1
MORE THAN I COULD, page 1
MORE THAN I COULD
A Coming Home Novel
Adriana Locke
Contents
Books by Adriana Locke
Synopsis
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Coming Home Series
Flirt - Chapter One
Acknowledgments
About the Author
MORE THAN I COULD
Copyright 2023 by Adriana Locke
Cover Designer: Kari March
Photographer: J. Ashley Converse Photography
Models: Dane Peterson and Maddi Hansen
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Copyright Law:
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, this book has been pirated and you are stealing. Please delete it from your device and support the author by purchasing a legal copy. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above copyright owner of this book or publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked statue 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 owners.
This book is for Ashley.
You’re one of the strongest, smartest, most incredible women I know. I’m lucky to call you a friend.
Books by Adriana Locke
Carmichael Family Series
Flirt
Fling
Fluke
Flaunt
Flame
Landry Family Series
Sway
Swing
Switch
Swear
Swink
Sweet
Gibson Boys Series
Crank
Craft
Cross
Crave
Crazy
The Mason Family Series
Restraint
The Relationship Pact
Reputation
Reckless
Reputation
Relentless
Resolution
The Exception Series
The Exception
The Perception
Dogwood Lane Series
Tumble
Tangle
Trouble
Standalone Novels
Sacrifice
Wherever It Leads
Written in the Scars
Lucky Number Eleven
Like You Love Me
The Sweet Spot
More Than I Could
Standalone Novellas
Battle of the Sexes
608 Alpha Avenue
907 For Keeps Way
Sign up to receive an email for all new releases at www.adrianalocke.com.
Synopsis
MORE THAN I COULD
This grumpy single dad falls hard for the nanny.
Chase Marshall is many things:
· An attentive single dad
· Jaw-droppingly gorgeous
· My employer for the next thirty days
He’s also the bane of my existence.
He swears I’m a never-ending headache—the most infuriating woman he’s ever met.
If I’m so irritating, then what’s up with the lingering looks when he thinks I’m not watching?
The seemingly innocent touches while making breakfast?
The smirk that graces his kissable lips after one of our verbal spars after his daughter has gone to bed?
One minute he’s coming to my rescue. The next second he’s complaining about how I fold his work shirts. Fine. Fold them yourself.
It turns out that the only time I don’t get under Chase’s skin is when I’m under him.
And that’s where things get complicated.
From USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke comes a grumpy, blue-collar single dad that falls hard for his new nanny. This small-town romance is a standalone novel with tons of heat and even more heart.
More Than I Could is a standalone in the Coming Home series, where one author a month will be delivering a brand-new story about coming home.
Chapter One
Chase
“Why does this always happen to me?”
My middle brother, Luke, sighs through the phone. His question, overly dramatic per usual, is rhetorical—or should be. We both know the answer. But he’ll wait for a response because he likes to wallow in self-pity and because I’m a fool for answering his call in the first place.
Damn him.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, returning his exasperation. “Ever think that maybe you’re just an asshole?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe start there and work backward.”
My windshield wipers squeak, working overtime to clear the rain from my view. Unfortunately, the precipitation hasn’t let up all day. I’m soaked to the core, my bones ache, and the intense pain in my shoulder exacerbates my frustration—the frustration my brother compounds.
I want to get home.
“That’s pretty rich coming from you.” Luke laughs.
“Hey, you called me.”
“And you answered.”
I remove one hand from the steering wheel and stretch my arm to the side, desperate for relief. “Do you want anything? Or did you call to remind me not to have an odd number of children?”
“Huh?”
I sigh. “Never mind.”
“So back to this thing with Alyssa,” he says, not missing a beat. “I don’t think she’s coming back.”
She won’t if she’s smart.
I instantly regret that thought because it’s not fair. I’m cold and exhausted and have a fourteen-year-old girl waiting at home for our weekly pizza-and-movie night. Luke might be a pain in the ass—and more of a diva than my daughter—but he’s a solid guy.
I still don’t want to do this with him.
“Are you listening to me?” Luke asks. “I’m having a crisis over here, and you’re acting like it’s no big deal.”
“Do you want to know what happened to me today?”
“Well, I—”
“I was fifty feet in the air fixing a power line when an old lady came around the corner. She doesn’t see the cones, plows ahead, and clips the back of the truck. Jason jumped out of the way, or else he’d be dead. I fucked up my shoulder on the corner of the bucket.” Thank God that was all that happened. My jaw pulses as the memory of thinking I would meet my maker passes through my brain. “So excuse me for not classifying your pussy problem as a crisis.”
Gravel crunches beneath my tires as I turn onto the old country road that leads to my house.
Luke’s silent. He’s unsure whether to press forward or retreat from the conversation. Wise. Although there are a few things that I’d rather be doing less than acting as my brother’s sounding board, I have ten minutes to go until I get home.
I can suck it up that long.
“Why did Alyssa leave in the first place?” I ask with as much give-a-shitness as I can muster.
“She said she was sick, and I told her I had all the vitamin D she needs.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re twenty-seven years old. Grow up.”
“I was joking. What do you know about women, anyway? When’s the last time you had one around?”
“If I don’t know anything about women, why in the hell are you calling me for advice?”
“Simple. You’re the only sibling who will answer.”
When will I ever learn?
“Gavin is avoiding me for reasons we won’t discuss,” he says. “I talked to Mallet last week, and he said his trainer was taking his phone. He’s been having a hard time concentrating for his fight, so Oscar was removing all distractions. And I’m not about to call Kate.”
I grin. “Aw, Kate’s your baby sister. I’m sure she has great advice.”
“She’s your sister too. Have you ever called her for advice?”
We laugh at the same time. Kate’s a firecracker. You risk setting your problems on fire if you ask Kate for help.
“Eh, maybe
I’m better off without Alyssa, anyway,” Luke says. “Fucking the same person is a dead-end sport.”
My forehead wrinkles. “How do you go from one extreme to the other? Two seconds ago, you were fucked up because she was gone. Now you’re happy about it?”
“I just got my feelings hurt. I want her to want me.”
“You want everyone to want you.”
“Yes. I do. Not all of us are content with jacking off for the rest of our life.”
Here we go.
I frown and grip the steering wheel tighter.
My family’s ongoing push for me to find—I don’t even know what it would be called at this age—a girlfriend? Significant other? God forbid, a wife? I don't want one, whatever it’s called when you’re sniffing forty.
Am I against casual sex? It’s great for Luke. Do I have a problem with dating? Gavin loves it. Is marriage a social construct that works in the modern world? Mallet’s wedding was the happiest day of his life—if you ignore the fact that the union ended in divorce. And I’m certain Kate will have the biggest damn wedding the world has ever seen someday, and an enormous brood of kids too. Everything for that girl is extra.
Relationships, in all their forms, are great … for some people. I even understand the draw. But I also understand the drawbacks, and quite frankly, I’m not interested in failing another human being in my life.
“You know what?” I ask, redirecting the conversation away from me. “You need to let Alyssa go. Just forget she exists.”
“Why?”
“Because you can.”
The line goes quiet while he ponders my suggestion.
The rain eases as I approach the bridge over Peachwood Creek. Through the drizzle, I spot a car on the other side of the waterway. It’s barely pulled off to the side of the road.
What’s going on here?
“What do you mean because you can?” Luke asks.
“You were fine with her leaving at the start of this conversation,” I say, leaning forward and squinting to get a better look at the car. “If you can let her leave, you need to let her leave. Make sense?”
“Not really.”
I squeeze the back of my neck in frustration.
I don’t have time for this—any of it.
Luke rattles on, weighing the pros and cons of monogamy. On the other hand, I peer down at the white car sitting askew with its lights off. This is not unusual; many locals know this area is ripe for hunting and fishing. But locals typically drive vehicles with four-wheel drive if they’re going to hit the backroads.
I slow down, hoping to see some dipshit climbing out of the ditch with a fishing pole. If that's the case, I can go home and get these wet clothes off. But something tells me that won’t be the case.
As I roll by, I can’t help but notice the glow of a cell phone in the driver’s seat.
Shit.
I ease my foot off the accelerator and assess my options.
Do I go on? No one is asking for my help, after all. Or do I stop? Because someone might be in trouble.
I want to keep going.
“Are you still here?” Luke asks.
Groaning, I hit the brake. I have to stop, or else it’ll bother me all night.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I say, ignoring the sudden weight on my shoulders.
I throw the truck in reverse and roll backward until my passenger’s side window lines up with their driver’s side door. “Luke, I gotta go. There’s a car parked half-assed on the side of the road by Peachwood Creek.”
“That’s weird.”
“I know.”
“Well, enjoy,” he says.
“Yeah. Bye.”
“Later.”
I shift the truck into park and rest my head against the seat. My eyes fall closed. Please have stopped to make a call and don’t need real help.
Water splashes around my boots as they hit the ground. I tug the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and approach the front of the vehicle. A cool breeze—the same one I’ve battled all day—washes over me, reminding me that a hot shower, sausage, and mushroom pizza are just down the road.
The windows are foggy, but someone moves as I get closer. I don’t know what I expect—someone to roll down the window? Crack the door? Step outside the car? Regardless, none of those things happen. Nothing happens.
What the fuck?
I rap against the glass with the back of my knuckle. “What’s going on?”
My hands go into my pockets, and I wait.
Nothing.
Frustrated, I clench my jaw. “Do you need help?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice muffled. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Okay? “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Out of gas?” I ask.
“I don’t think so.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Are you confused?”
“No, I’m not confused,” she says as if offended by the question.
I roll my eyes. “Look, if you don’t need help, I’m gonna go.”
“My car was … steaming, and I pulled over,” she says, her voice shaky. “I’m afraid to start it again.”
“You mean steam was coming from under your hood?”
“Yeah. I pulled over and turned the car off. But I’m panicking because cornfields surround me… and now there’s a man at my window. This is how every horror movie begins, you know.”
I glance around. Tall cornstalks sway on both sides of the road—just like every rural road in southern Indiana this time of year.
“I take it that you’re not from around here,” I say.
“Not sure how that information is pertinent.”
The fuck? “Excuse me?”
“It just feels like a very personal question coming from a man I don’t know,” she says.
“Well, this man you don’t know is only trying to help.”
“I didn’t ask you to stop, sir.”
My eyes go wide, and I half laugh. Fuck this. “No. No, you didn’t. Good luck to ya.”
I turn to leave when a knock comes on the glass. “Wait.”
Looking over my shoulder, I’m surprised to see the door swing open. I’m even more surprised to see someone climb out of the car. But none of that matches my amazement at the woman who steps around the corner of the door.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Chapter Two
Megan
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
A set of extraordinary green eyes capture my gaze. They’re so intense that I stutter.
“Um, I …” I start, but the words just won’t come. What was I saying?
Squarish jaw. Dimpled chin. A day’s worth of stubble dots his cheeks. Thick brows frame those ridiculous eyes, and a slightly crooked nose parts his sharp cheekbones.
The chill that has tormented me since I broke down has vanished, and in its place is a heat that gathers in my core.
My phone in one hand, my other hand curled tightly around a hairbrush—the only weapon I could find to use in my defense at a moment’s notice. I stand in the middle of a mud puddle and try to regain my composure.
He’s too handsome to be helpful. Men this attractive are usually worthless.
“Do you want my help or not?” he asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
I clear my throat. “Yes. Please.”
Please don’t make me regret getting out of this car.
“So what was it doing? Steaming?” he asks. “Anything else?”
“It started … boiling. Then there was a pop before it started hissing.” I shiver against the wind. “Hard to hear anything over the car's frame smashing a pothole every three feet.”
