I dont want you, p.1
I Don't Want You, page 1
part #1 of Lakeside Romance Series
I Don't Want You
A Lakeside Romance
V. McFarlane
Copyright © 2020 Victoria McFarlane
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Printed in the United Kingdom
To everyone who listened to me rant and rave!
Especially to my husband - I love you
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
Forty-two
Forty-three
Forty-four
Epilogue
About The Author
Playlist
- Chris Isaac – Wicked Game
- Tom Skelly – Inside
- Jason Aldean – You make it easy
- Cody Jinks – Must be the Whiskey
- Tones & I – Can’t be happy all the time
- Camilla Cabeo – My Oh My
- Ray Dalton – In My Bones
- R3HAB – Flames
- Jp Saxe – If the world was ending
- Tom Walker – Better half of me
- Jerrod Niemann – Lover, Lover
- Edwin Starr – War
- Dean Brody – Whiskey in teacup
One
Violet
I’ve never believed in soul mates, I didn’t believe in destiny or fate or love that’s written in the stars. I believe you have to work for what you want, a career, a relationship, happiness. Things don’t just simply happen. If everything you ever wanted in life just fell into your lap life would become very boring.
All of that is funny considering the song I’m writing is about meeting soulmates, finding the one, destiny, blah blah blah. The songs not mine. Well it is, but it’s not for me. A local band commissioned me to write it for them and despite it all, the songs good but there’s something missing.
A lyric. A word. A note. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
I’m not big time, in fact I’m very small time, in a little town miles away from where I could make it big time. It’ll never happen for me but that’s okay. I write music, I sing sometimes and every now and then someone listens to my music online and commissions me to write them a song. It’s always local bands, local singers and artists. I’ve never been recognised by anyone who could get me somewhere. It’s okay. Really.
I’m happy here, in Lakeside, Nebraska. I’m happy working in my family’s restaurant down next to the Lake and spending my down time walking, listening to music, or writing and playing my own.
My whole life is here, I grew up here, went to school, met my friends. I had my first kiss down by the docks. His name was Ryan Wilkes, he was a year older than me and my first ever crush at the age of fourteen. We went to dances together. And then he broke my little heart at sixteen when his family moved back to Washington and I never saw him again. I thought it was love of course, it wasn’t but my sixteen-year-old heart didn’t know that.
I broke my arm after climbing a tree near the Nature Reserve downtown, I was at the Theatre when I found out my Nana had died. My sister and I used to play on the shores of the lake as kids and then sunbathe there as teenagers. I had my first legal drink at the music bar, Tunes,and sang my first karaoke at Jimmy’s Bar. You get the picture, all my firsts are here, and all my lasts will probably be here too.
I can hear my own voice singing in my earphones, the new song for the band on repeat as I try to figure out exactly what it is it’s missing.
It’s as you would expect, all love and longing, hearts on sleeves and happily ever afters.
It’s cold, January in Nebraska is harsh with zero or below temperatures, frequent snowfalls, and ice. It’s not uncommon to be locked indoors for days because the snow is so heavy, and the roads are deadly.
This week’s been more settled, though one look at the sky tells me we’re in for another storm. The sky’s a deep grey colour, almost purple where the sun is trying to pierce the thick blanket of rolling clouds. We’ve only just gotten over the last lot, the evidence is still sat on rooftops and in the piles of black sludge on the roads and sidewalks. I’ve slipped more times than I count on my walk this morning, not seeing the icy patches on the pavement below my feet.
I’ve been known to get in my own head when the time calls. I completely ignore the world around me, like it doesn’t exist at all. Want to have conversation with me at that point? Forget it. Need something? You’re gonna need to wait. I only tend to get like it when I’m concentrating on something important. Like this Goddamned song. They are expecting the final version tomorrow and I can’t give them this.
Chances are they won’t notice the ‘missing piece’ but I know it’s there and whilst I make very little from this it’s important that I give it everything I have.
My legs move me forward, but I have no idea where I’m going. I’m just walking, hoping the fresh, crisp air will clear the fog in my brain. I have a thick winter coat wrapped around me, thermals beneath my skinny jeans, a hat, scarf, and gloves. I’m warm enough to stay out for a little bit longer.
The song starts from the beginning again and I look down at the notepad in my hands, reading over the lyrics as they play in my ears. It’s soft and calming, the music, a small tune I put together on my guitar to get a feel for it plays quietly behind the words. The band doesn’t need to use my music but it’s there for them to play with if they need it.
The music flows into the chorus, and I step off the pavement.
“…and it’s you and me baby. You and me today. You and me, tomorrow…”
A horn blares, cutting through the music in my ears so loud it reverberates through my brain. My head snaps up to see a car screeching towards me, the tyres locked but the car, it’s not stopping, skidding over ice on the road.
Well shit.
I jump back, but my foot hits another patch of ice and the next thing I know I’m on my back, staring up at the grey sky. I’m braced, ready to be ploughed over by the car. I can’t do anything now, my body is screaming in pain from the fall and my heart is beating so fast I’m sure it’s about to leap right out of my chest.
My song is still playing in my head. No other sounds, just my voice.
“…and it’s you and me baby. You and me today. You and me, tomorrow…”
Then it hits me. The bit it’s missing.
A face comes into view as my lips move, “There ain’t no time we gotta borrow!”
The man standing above me frowns but I pay him no attention as I push myself up from the floor, ignoring the twinges of pain rushing down my spine and settling in my hips. I grab my notebook, the pages are damp from sitting on the wet ground too long, but I can still work with it. I pull the pencil out of my pocket and quickly scribble the lyric and sigh with relief. That was it. I feel it.
Suddenly my earphones are ripped from my ears and his voice cuts through. As smooth as whiskey but husky and warm, rough in all the delicious ways. It’s the kind of voice that you hear long after they’ve stopped talking.
“Are you crazy, woman!? Do you not look when you cross a street!?”
Oh, he’s mad.
Right.
I avoid eye contact as I scan my surroundings, I’m downtown, miles away from my apartment above the restaurant. Wow, I hadn’t realised how far I had walked.
I try to stand but wince when the pain zips down my legs.
“Are you okay?” He’s in my face now and I have no choice but to look at him.
Oh, he’s handsome, no handsome isn’t generous enough. A jaw that’s so sharp it could cut, with hollows beneath high cheekbones, and a dusting of dark, days old stubble. His eyes are steel grey, the colour matching the sky but brighter. He’s wearing a hat, but I can only assume his hair is as dark as that stubble, probably, thick, glossy…
He’s talking…shit.
“Sorry what?” I tear my gaze from his face, rolling my lips.
“Did you hit your head?”
I wonder if he can sing. That voice is made for singing. I bet it goes right through you, settles in your bones, in your soul.
“Hello?” He’s waving a calloused hand in front of my face.
“Right,” I
To check, I finger the back of my head, there’s no sore spots so I think we’re good. Gritting my teeth, I push to my feet, trying and failing to hide my grimace as my muscles twinge and scream their reluctance at moving. Suddenly there’s a hand on my arm, pulling me up and steadying me.
“What were you doing walking out in the middle of the road like that?” He demands, letting me go and settling his hands on his hips, eyeing me under hooded lids.
“Sorry,” I press a hand to my lower back and arch my spine, trying to stretch out the tightness there, “I got distracted.”
He scrubs a hand across his mouth, “Distracted, huh? You could say that.”
I wince, “Sorry.”
I look passed him. The car is idling but looks okay, no dents or scratches so he didn’t hit anything to avoid me. Looks like he stopped just in time actually.
I let out a breath, “I’m good. You can go.”
His dark brows knit together, “You went down hard, sure you don’t want to go get checked out?”
I shake my head and lean forward, settling my hands on my thighs. I’ll probably have a few bruises, aching muscles but that’s all, no broken bones, no bumped heads. “I’m good.”
The back of my jeans are wet, the icy water has seeped through to the underlayers and then further to the backs of my thighs. I’ll have to head straight home. Being wet in this kind of cold will only lead to frost bite, or so my mother used to tell me.
“Sorry again,” I look behind me. I recognise where I am, it’s hard to get lost in a town you’ve lived in your entire life. It’ll take a good hour or so to walk back maybe longer with the way my muscles are acting. I definitely pulled something when I fell.
I turn away from the stranger and step back onto the pavement, picking up my earphones to plug them back in.
“Wait!” He calls behind me.
My hand pauses halfway to my ear.
“Let me give you a ride home, you’re wet and it’s cold.”
I laugh, “I’m fine, honest, it’s not too far.” I lie.
“Why do I have a feeling your lying?” He narrows his eyes, cocking a dark smudge of an eyebrow. God, even that’s sexy!
I turn back towards him, my own brow raised. Was this a challenge? “I’m not. And we’re strangers. I don’t get into cars with strange men.”
He laughs. It’s a pleasant sound, deep and the grin on his face can only be described boyish with a dash of charming. “I’m Jared Reinhard, and you are?”
“Violet Walker.”
“Violet as in the colour?”
“As in the flower.” I correct. There’s a long story to this, one that I’m not about to go into.
“Well now we’re not strangers, hop on in, flower and I’ll give you a ride home.”
I should probably feel nervous as I follow him back to the car. My survival instincts should be telling me that just because he’s pretty with a soothing voice doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep a axe in that trunk just to cut up girls like me. But that instinct, yeah, it’s silent right now and my body is a willing participant as I slide my aching self into the passenger seat.
If I die, tell my family that I loved them!
Two
Jared
“This is me,” Violet says from the passenger seat of my accord.
I’ve barely been able to keep my eyes on the road. I thought she was pretty lying there all wide-eyed in the road but then she took that knitted hat off and ran her long fingers through her hair and I was floored.
She looks over to me when I pull up outside Benny’s Restaurant. I suck in a breath as those whiskey coloured eyes settle on me, framed by thick black lashes. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, the same for the tip of that pert little nose. Her heart shaped lips are pulled into a small smile and her slim fingers are wrapped around that brown, canvas notebook she had to scribble in after falling over. It looked like lyrics, but it could be poetry I supposed, and I didn’t want to pry.
“You live in a restaurant,” I quirk a brow sceptically. It would be sensible to lie about where you lived to someone you’ve only just met. First rule of dating; never give a stranger your home address. Second rule of dating; always tell someone where you are. Why am I giving dating advice? Who knows. My brain’s scrambled right now.
“No, I live above the restaurant. It’s my parents place.”
“Oh!” I look up to the top of the building. Sure enough, it looks residential, I hadn’t noticed before, and I’ve been to Benny’s before. It’s a nice place, cosy with good, homecooked food. The traditional kind that warms your belly, just like mama made.
“My parents live there,” she points to the apartment directly above the entrance, “and that place was converted for me when they expanded into the building next door.”
I nod, “It’s nice, I’ve been here a couple times. Great food.”
She glances out the window, “Well anyway, thanks for the ride and I’m sorry again. I’ll pay more attention when crossing roads.” Her cheeks warm and fuck if it isn’t adorable.
“See you around, flower.” I smile.
She laughs. It’s a sweet sound, light and musical, like the way a wind chimes sings in a light breeze, “See you around.”
I watch as she makes her way to a little white door to the left of the restaurant and unlocks it. With a brief look over her shoulder and a small wave she disappears inside.
Well then, I think as I look over the restaurant one more time. I guess I’ll be here more often. My bank balance is going to hate me.
I pull into the light traffic and head back towards Tunes. My brothers bar. I park in my designated spot and head in through the back. I can hear Eli in the main bar, talking loudly to someone though it’s not aggressive, thankfully. My older brother can have a temper, one I’ve only seen a few times in the years I’ve lived with him. He’s better but I see it simmering when something or someone pisses him off. It started sometime after our parents died. Grief does that, it changes a person.
Where I threw myself into my music, he threw himself at a punching bag and it’s been that way ever since.
“Jared!” Eli calls me over once he’s off the phone, “I need you to work tomorrow night.”
I raise a brow. I’ve been known to cover shifts from time to time, but bar work wasn’t something I enjoyed.
“I’ll give you a spot on the stage if you do,” he grins, wagging his brows
I scoff, “Fine.”
He’d give me a spot on the stage even if I didn’t work the bar, but I’ll let him think he’s won me over.
“Where you been, anyway, bro?” He wipes down the bar and restocks the beer fridges ready for tonight.
“Avoiding hitting girls with my car,” I swipe a bottle of water and settle on a bar stool, shaking my head. It had been so close.
I had been distracted for about a second, leaning across the car to hit the skip button on my phone and when I looked up, there she was. This beautiful girl wrapped up in so many layers, her head buried in that notebook. She didn’t look before she stepped off that pavement and she had no idea I was there. It was only when I slammed my hand down on the horn that she finally looked up, all wide eyed like a deer caught in headlights. I was skidding on black ice, I really didn’t think I was going to stop.
Then she went down, hitting the road hard and the car finally came to a stop, throwing me forward in my chair. At that point I had no idea if I had hit her. I couldn’t see her over the hood of the car and when I climbed from the drivers’ seat, I half expected to find her under one of my wheels.
But no, she was just lying there, staring at the sky. What was it she blurted? There ain’t no time we gotta borrow.
