Forget You Not (Reclusive #2) Read online

  I wonder if his sky-blue eyes shine as brightly as they did that day.

  His hair is cropped short and styled in that messy way guys always pull off. A decent amount of scruff covers his jaw and it’s a shade darker than the tresses on his head. His shoulders are so broad he must have trouble fitting through a regular-sized door and his biceps are so freaking huge they stretch the cotton of his shirt. I imagine the seams tearing from the strain. I guarantee he’s hiding an impressive set of washboard abs behind that tight fabric because he’s still clearly the standard for perfection.

  My mind turns a dirty corner as I ponder what Rowen must be rocking below the belt. Considering how enormous he is everywhere, I bet his package is beyond impressive. And suddenly I’m freaking starving for something that isn’t offered on the buffet line. Traitorous butterflies swarm my belly as heat spreads from my core and I despise the surge of pleasure this jerk elicits.

  I circle back to how dumb it was to gauge Rowen as the ideal man that day. We hardly spoke a word to each other yet I placed him on a pedestal.

  Our souls bonding.

  His gaze reflecting the future.

  My one and only.

  Barf. How ridiculous.

  Maybe it’s not fair to place so much blame on this stranger’s shoulders but I needed a scapegoat. Since he was the one that jumpstarted my belief in soul mates, he made an adequate target.

  Trust me, I realize how insane I sound right now. I really do but I can’t freaking help it. I know it’s stupid to believe he had such an influence on me but I wanted male affection so badly that it became a driving need. I gave Rowen way too much power and it’s high time I take it back.

  Irritation crawls through my veins as I contemplate my choices. I’m not fucking leaving Willow and Xander’s party because he made an appearance. I want to storm over to my friend and demand she explain why this guy was never around Xander before. Tonight is supposed to be a small gathering for close friends.

  Of course Willow has zero knowledge on my history with Rowen; I’ve never uttered a word. I haven’t shared the depth of my adversity with men and relationships. She doesn’t know about my biggest downfall or slew of careless mistakes. We don’t discuss my disinterest in dating. Willow’s lack of awareness sends a bolt of guilt through my chest. I should have confided in her but it’s not something I especially enjoy confessing.

  If I attempt to gain any info on Xander’s buddy now, she’ll immediately dig for details. She’ll most likely give me her deep stare while lifting a questioning brow and keep at it until I spill the entire story. Tonight isn’t about me and the stupid decisions I’ve made. If I’m going to face this problem, it’s up to me.

  My sight locks on Rowen again as I consider my next move. He’s standing across the freaking bar and he doesn’t know my internal struggle. There’s no way he thinks of me like I do him. Our one moment was forever ago on a typical summer day and wouldn’t stand out after all this time.

  Is this destiny fucking with me? Fate finally tossing me the finger for screwing around too much? A silent snicker escapes me when I think about Cupid’s arrow piercing Rowen in the ass. He’d deserve to be stuck in some lover’s trance but I’m done falling for any of that ludicrous shit. It’s all made-up nonsense. Fairy tales and happily ever after don’t exist.

  With my chest clenching tight, I try imagining he’s not looming before me like a long-lost dream. Who knows if it’s even him? My initial reaction could be way off. Maybe Rowen has a twin who happens to know Willow and Xander. That’s possible, right?

  Urgh, of course it’s him!

  I’ll never forget the delicious tingles he causes, no matter how hard I try. The stupid electricity is still zipping through me.

  I glare at his perfect profile and hope the daggers I’m shooting are stabbing into his perfectly golden skin.

  A devious plan takes root and the need for revenge strengthens. I spin around on my sky-high heels and strut toward the bathroom to prepare for the mission.

  Once the door is locked securely behind me, I stare at my reflection in the mirror to appraise my appearance. It’s time to accentuate my assets. I lift my already ample cleavage higher, making my breasts practically pop out of my top. Perfect. Push-up bras are freaking priceless. I coat my plump pout with bright red lipstick before fluffing my glossy platinum mane. I dyed my dull brown locks a while back when I was desperate for a change and I’ve never been happier with the transformation.

  I look like a freaking siren and I love the thrill shooting through my entire system. It matches the burning ache I have in the pit of my stomach. He’s finally going to feel my pain.

  Rowen thought he could waltz into my life and hijack my fragile heart? Lie about wanting to get to know me before dashing off without a trace?

  He’s about to regret the day he stepped foot into Brack’s Box. I’ll make freaking sure he gets the fury that’s been building all these years.

  I stroll back into the bar with my sights set on a very particular man and one thought loops through my mind as I strut closer to him.

  I’m going to make him pay.

  Rowen

  If you had told me a few months ago that I’d be standing in this crowded ass bar celebrating Xander’s engagement tonight, I would have laughed in your face. He was a fucking disaster when he first stumbled into our group session at the VA but I’ll admit, his progress in such a short amount of time has been impressive.

  I’ve seen plenty of guys much further along crumble under the pressure. Fighting in a war can permanently fuck up a person and many can’t move on from that level of devastation. Xander came in with something to prove and pushed himself further each day. Pretty sure his fiancé has always had a lot to do with that but either way, he’s a success story in the flesh. Hopefully he’ll believe it someday.

  Some random dude stumbles into me while trying to reach his table and it reminds me of how packed this tiny place is. Having all these bodies swarming around us makes my blood pressure rise so I’m not sure how Xander is managing it. Even if they’re all friends and family, my skin prickles with unease. When I turn around to face my friend again, the reason he’s keeping it together is blatantly obvious. I’m gifted with a front row seat to his staring contest with Willow and it’s so fucking sweet my teeth ache. Even though the entire room separates them, they appear connected somehow.

  I’m jealous and I don’t care if that makes me sound like a jerkoff. I want that kind of all-encompassing love, and have for quite a while, but I haven’t found the right woman. Well, at least not recently.

  Xander’s hands begin to twitch and I wonder if he’s nervous or unconsciously trying to reach out for his fiancé. Seriously, they’re not physically close together yet a tense tether seems bound between them. I wonder how long it will be before one of them snaps and can’t handle the distance. I’m thinking the sooner, the better. They need to get a fucking room and stop rubbing it in our faces. I clear my throat to get his attention and it takes him far longer than it should to peel his eyes away from Willow. A disbelieving chuckle rattles in my chest at my friend’s reluctance, but again, I’m mostly green with envy.

  “I can’t believe you’re engaged. What a fucking trip. Has it sunk in yet?” I hope Xander isn’t offended by my question. I never know with this guy. Based off the grin tipping up the corner of his lips, he isn’t too upset.

  “Row, I’ve wanted to marry that girl since I was thirteen. I’m ashamed it took me so long, and we wasted years, but whatever. She’s mine now and that’s what matters.” His gruff voice leaves no room for argument, not like it ever would when it comes to Willow.

  “Want to tell me all about when you got down on one knee?” Another laugh rolls out of me but Xander doesn’t skip a beat before diving into a replay of his romantic afternoon.

  He’s filling me in on all the gooey details when I catch sight of a blonde bombshell sashaying our way. Her slender body is tightly wrapped in a skimpy red dress that
matches the shade slathered on her lips. Voluptuous tits, made for sin, are on display for all to see and my mouth waters at the sight. All that smooth flesh is practically begging my tongue to enjoy a taste and I’m having a tough time finding reasons to resist. I tear my deprived gaze away from her cleavage before getting caught and focus on her golden mane. She has hair the color of champagne, with multiple hues blending together to make a hypnotic effect. Each strand shines and shimmer as she walks, beckoning me toward her like a moth to a flame. I want to fall into her.

  Badly.

  My hungry eyes wander back to her face and her shocking bronze irises appear to be glowing back at me. It’s as though this lovely looker can see into my dark soul and hear my dirty thoughts—they are fucking filthy. She’s put together like every man’s fantasy and my dick definitely takes notice.

  The last thing I need is to pitch a tent but this woman is fucking gorgeous. She deserves a standing ovation from my cock but I’m not in the mood to embarrass myself. Long legs that are perfectly toned and tan carry her our way as I attempt to discretely adjust my stubborn erection. A friendly smile stretches her mouth and my breath catches at the sight as my heart threatens to burst from overexertion. My stupid ass believes I’m the lucky recipient of her devastating grin until I realize she’s focused on Xander.

  Does he know this stunner?

  The muttered curse from my buddy confirms they’ve met at least a time or two. My curiosity is instantly piqued and I’m ready to make her acquaintance. As she squeezes into the small space beside Xander and strikes up a conversation with him, I inspect her exquisite features further. She looks familiar but I can’t quite place where I’d know her from. The rusty cogs in my brain groan in protest while I try recalling when we might have met. She’s definitely not a woman easily forgotten.

  After exchanging brief pleasantries and congratulations, the beauty shifts her sight and I’m her next target. Her vibrant orbs latch onto me and I’m hit with an overwhelming urge to haul her into my arms. To kiss her, protect her, love her.

  What the fuck?

  Her stare is predatory as she licks her red-stained lips. She makes my cock twitch from that move alone. She extends her tiny hand, with black painted nails, before introducing herself.

  “My name is Lark. I’m good friends with Willow. And you are?” Her voice is practically a purr and recognition slams into me.

  I’m transported back to when I was a completely different guy and she was definitely not a sexed up wildcat. Maybe I’m jumping the gun and shouldn’t make assumptions from a name and sweet honey tone, but it’s tough to ignore the coincidence when she’s this close. Could this really be Lark from the restaurant? My need to know roars loudly above all else but I shove that aside as she leans closer.

  Once her soft palm slides into my calloused hand and our skin touches, a certainty so sure I would bet my life on it slams into me. Shocks race up my arm to my shoulder before settling in my chest. It’s like coming home, this overwhelming sense of peace that settles over me, and I can’t believe it’s her.

  How long has it been? Six or seven years maybe? The afternoon I met her is one I’ll never forget, for several reasons, and she’s at the top of the list. I instantly wonder how she spends her days and who she shares her evenings with. The shock continues to radiate through my skull as the dumbfounded fog begins to clear from my brain.

  Lark’s fingers shift slightly in my hold, which effectively knocks me out of the stupor I’d been suspended in. She quirks an inquisitive brow my way when the silence stretches longer than socially acceptable. I realize too late that I’ve been standing here like an idiot, still holding her hand, without saying a word. I clear my throat to mask the lingering discomfort. “That’s a beautiful name. Very fitting.” I flash a flirty smile and it seems to appease her since she resumes a thorough perusal of my body.

  “I’m Rowen, but all my friends call me Row. Trust me when I say it’s my pleasure to meet you.” It’s very similar to what I said the first time I met her. I rub along the inside of her wrist in a pathetic attempt to jumpstart her memory.

  Can’t she feel the electricity between us?

  Her heated expression hasn’t changed since she spun my way so maybe she doesn’t know who I am. That stings like a fucking snake bite and that ache penetrates deep when those fangs puncture skin.

  Lark bites her plump bottom lip while scanning along my facial features. What does she see? Is she catching a glimpse of the younger version she might have a fuzzy recollection of? My appearance has stayed the same overall, aside from my hair that’s cut shorter and darker since I don’t have time to bum around the beach all day. I’m too lazy to shave so there’s decent stubble covering my jaw. I’ve bulked up somewhat from my time in the army but I wasn’t scrawny to begin with.

  Acid is churning in my gut at the thought of her not remembering me. Lark should be able to recognize me if I had any impact on her. She sure acted like it that day, until I ruined it by leaving without telling her. I tried going back a few times to find her before my deployment but I never had any luck. I figured one day, if it was truly meant to be, I’d see her beautiful face again. Now she stands before me like the most delicious dessert, dressed to kill, and gladly providing fuel for my own fantasies.

  Her amber eyes are like cinnamon-fire brought to life and she’s scorching me on the spot.

  “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” When her words register in my distracted mind, the surprise rushes through me and my heart lodges in my throat.

  “What did you say? What’s that supposed to mean?” I don’t mean for my tone to come across harsh but the frustration is boiling my blood. This woman has represented something true and real in my memories for years, but the vision in front of me is fucking with my head. Desperation is clawing at my insides and I’m running out of patience.

  Lark’s hair glistens as she tosses her head back and laughs. “Gosh, chill out. Your face went all pale and it looks like you saw a ghost or something. I just meant you’re really hot and it’s been far too long since I’ve been graced with the presence of such a fine male specimen.

  Is this chick for real? A fine male specimen? Who talks like that?

  I refuse to believe the Lark from back then grew up to be a man eater or some shit. I’ve decided she’s screwing with me and putting on one hell of an act.

  I decide to stop messing around. “Go to dinner with me?”

  “How about we go to my place instead?” Her response is instant, as though she was anticipating my request.

  “Nah. Let me take you out, Sweetheart.”

  Lark’s stunning eyes widen slightly when I let the term of endearment slip past my lips. If I hadn’t been scrutinizing her so carefully, I would have missed her tiny reaction. Maybe she’s affected by me after all.

  Before I get another word out, she yanks her hand from my grip and twirls on her stilettos before rushing out of the bar.

  That was odd as fuck. Why would she dip out so quick?

  If Lark wants to pretend we haven’t previously met and shared something special, I can bullshit right along with her. If she wants to storm off and hide so I have to seek her out, I’ll go all in because I’m not fucking up this second chance.

  Game on, Lark. Let’s play.

  Lark

  As I stretch along my silky-soft cotton sheets, my mind plays through what I need to accomplish today. It could be a fairly easy-breezy Sunday but there is always work I can catch up on. Since I started at the community center a few years back, I’ve allowed my job to swallow up the majority of my free time and I prefer it that way. Idle hands and all that business.

  The dull ache in the pit of my stomach reminds me of last night and my refusal to have dinner with Rowen. He could have been over here, scratching a very persistent itch, but no. He flat out denied me and I wasn’t about to give into his idiotic request, so I stormed off in a furious flurry. I refuse to provide another window of opportunity to be turned d
own. No matter how freaking sexy he is.

  An agitated scream threatens to bubble out of my mouth but I keep it in check. Ripples of shock and utter disbelief are still coiling around my brain over the fact that Rowen was at the party. Pretty sure the chances of getting struck by lightning were higher and probably less painful too. Just my stupid luck showing it’s losing hand once again.

  My head rolls from side to side against the fluffy pillows as my thoughts continue to race. The way Rowen looked at me made my insides hum and beg to surrender.

  He’s extremely dangerous to my willpower so he better keep his effing distance. That shouldn’t be an issue considering he’s been nothing but a hazy memory until last night. I’m not the bright-eyed, naïve girl I was seven years ago and I’ll be the first to let that jackass know.

  I kissed a lot of frogs during my search for “Mister Right” and with each failed attempt at finding love, my sensitive heart hardened and I became bitter. Metaphorical scars marred my body from each time I was burned by a man. Every let down felt like another lash ripping away my hope and belief in happily ever after.

  Soon enough, I gave up trying and resolved myself to physical flings. I’m done with men for anything more than a quick bang to ease the occasional hunger that stirs within me. Call me whatever you want, but it’s the best defense I have against further unnecessary pain. I refuse to be vulnerable again.

  I’m not vindictive or diabolical but Rowen makes my blood boil. That’s why I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and formed a plan of attack. The best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach or dick. I’m a terrible cook so that leaves an epic act of seduction. I’ll be impossible to resist and lure him into my trap. I’m going to give Rowen the hottest, most erotic night of his life. It’ll leave him fantasizing about me for years to come. And when I leave him in the dust, begging for more, I’ll finally have my closure. A tad conniving, right?

  Maybe there is hope for me moving past this fear of commitment once this painful chapter of my life is finally closed. I’m ready to have a healthy mindset but there have been several roadblocks forming impassible detours. The nagging insecurities have been beating down my door long enough.