Just Getting Started Read online

  Just Getting Started

  Lacey Black

  Kaylee Ryan

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Thank you

  More from Lacey

  More from Kaylee

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2020 Kaylee Ryan

  Copyright © 2020 Lacey Black

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  All Rights Reserved.

  This book may not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of Kaylee Ryan, or Lacey Black, except for the use of brief quotations in articles and or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, locations, businesses and plot are products of the author’s imagination and meant to be used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events throughout the story are purely coincidental. The author acknowledges trademark owners and trademarked status of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks are not authorized, sponsored or associated by or with the trademark owners.

  * * *

  The following story contains sexual situations and strong language. It is intended for adult readers.

  * * *

  Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Cover Photography: Sara Eirew

  Editing: Hot Tree Editing

  Proofreading: Kara Hildebrand &

  Deaton Author Services

  Chapter One

  Gabby 1

  * * *

  “Could this day possibly get any worse?” I ask aloud, setting my now-cold mocha on my desk and dropping my purse into my desk drawer.

  The universe and I are having a day. Definitely not a good one. It started this morning when I was halfway through my shower and the hot water went out. I know I’m on borrowed time when it comes to the availability of said hot water (my landlord installed the world’s smallest hot water heater in my tiny little apartment), but today I didn’t even make it four minutes. I had just enough heat to lather up my lavender-scented shampoo before bam! Cold water. Try rinsing a full head of hair and then have to wash your body with ice water.

  Good times.

  Forget conditioning; I just wanted the hell away from the water flowing straight from Antarctica.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, the strap on my favorite pair of sandals broke, and I jammed my finger against my closet door. All this before 8:00 a.m.

  When I finally managed to get out the door and into my older Honda Accord, I had minutes to spare before I was due to start my day at All Fit, the gym my brother-in-law owns. Unfortunately, the universe was still laughing its ass off at me when I got to the coffee shop. I ordered my regular white chocolate mocha (with extra whip today, since my day is super shit-tastic) and wait for my name to be called.

  It doesn’t.

  So I wait.

  And wait some more.

  I wait so long that the woman at the back of the line with the seven-drink order left before I did. Do you know what happened? Yep. They forgot about me. So by the time they whipped up my super tall white chocolate mocha with extra whip and threw a chocolate scone in a paper bag to make up for their mistake, I was well and truly late. The worst part was I was probably going to have to give up my delicious smelling scone because A) it doesn’t agree with my diet and fitness regimen my trainer from hell has dictated, and B) I’m super late and a fresh chocolate scone might go a long way with appeasing my boss.

  The thought of losing my precious (and free) scone didn’t sit well with me as I slipped into my car and turned the key.

  And nothing happened.

  That’s when I started pounding on the steering wheel and screaming words that would make Satan himself blush.

  My car was dead.

  I was late.

  This day officially blew monkey balls.

  After shooting off a text to my boss, Harrison, I pulled out my trusty walking shoes and hit the pavement. The gym isn’t that far from the coffee shop, but it didn’t help that I got halfway to work and realized the damn scone and my mocha were still in my car. You bet your ass I turned around and walked back to get them. I mean, it was my morning jolt of caffeine and a free scone for crying out loud!

  So here I am, nearly forty-five minutes late for work and I feel like I’ve been up since four. Harrison’s door is closed and one of the lines is lit on the phone, so I leave him be. He had a conference call this morning with the assistant managers of all four gyms.

  My brother-in-law, Harrison Drake, owns a series of small gyms throughout Missouri. The original location began here, in my hometown of Fair Lakes, several years ago. Over the last few years, he has grown his empire to include training videos, healthy meal planning, and cookbooks, and three additional locations. I was officially hired as his personal assistant in January, after his previous one went all bat-shit cray cray on him, including trying to burn the gym down. She’s currently out on bond, awaiting the trial, with a strict order to stay no less than a thousand feet away from the gym and anyone associated with it.

  Nothing says happy spring like a restraining order.

  Harrison is married to my older sister, Gwen. Actually, they’re remarried. The first time ended in divorce, but both realized after the fact that neither of them actually wanted it. What drove them back together? My niece, Sophia. She’s the cutest little four-month-old in the entire world. They were split when they decided for one last go-around of hide the salami, and the result was an unplanned pregnancy between two recently divorced individuals.

  Cue the Maury theme music.

  Now, they’re a mere two weeks post-second wedding and life is good.

  At least for them.

  I’ve had a shitty day, remember?

  And to make it worse, the letter in my purse is like a ticking time bomb, ready to blow a Buick-sized hole in my pleasant little world.

  I shovel half the scone into my mouth and turn on my computer. No way is boss man getting this bad boy now. I’ve earned this sweet treat. I take a big gulp of cold mocha and pull up Harrison’s schedule. After his morning managers’ conference call, he has two client appointments before lunch with his girls. Even though he took a big step back to run the business, he still has a few of his own clients who he trains.

  Me? I’m not one of them. No way could I stand him bossing me around all day in the office and in the gym. No, I drew the short straw when I was given Chase Callahan, Harrison’s best friend and right hand, when I was seeking a personal trainer. Actually, come to think of it, I didn’t draw a straw at all. Chase just sort of claimed me.

  Whatever.

  Part of my daily fun is that I actually get to torture him mentally in the gym as much as he physically tortures me. It’s part of my charm. Chase, on the other hand, has none. He’s an egotistical pain in the ass who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. Okay, so the guy looks as good in basketball shorts as he does in well-worn blue jeans, and his T-shirt always molds beautifully to his ink-covered arms, but that doesn’t mean every woman wants to bone him.

  Especially not me.
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  Definitely not me.

  I’d rather cover him in jelly and throw him in the lion enclosure at the zoo.

  Actually, that has merit.

  I reply to a few emails from our website, inquiring about classes and training sessions, as the door to Harrison’s office opens. My thighs clench when the sound of Chase’s deep chuckle carries through the open door as he enters my domain. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but I keep typing furiously, refusing to even glance his way. I know what’ll happen when I do. I’ll be hypnotized by those intoxicating blue eyes. Eyes that I swear can see straight into my soul, bypassing all the walls I construct around myself. It’s like his superpower. Of course, Chase uses his superpower for evil, not good. His uncanny ability to find every tiny thing that annoys the crap out of me is one of the main reasons I despise him so much.

  “Oh, you made it. What happened with your car?” Harrison asks, pulling my attention away from my monitor.

  “No clue. It wouldn’t start,” I confirm, taking another sip of my cold coffee drink and maintaining eye contact with him.

  Do not glance at Chase.

  I glance at Chase.

  Danger, Will Robinson!

  I try to avert my eyes, but I can’t. I’m trapped in those expressive blue orbs. I can practically feel my panties dampening and my will to resist flying straight out the window.

  Dammit!

  So, to combat my overactive libido and the naughty images of Chase and me on my tiny couch that conjure up in my dirty mind, I glare at him.

  “What the hell, Gabby? I told you that piece of shit was gonna take a dump on you one of these days,” Chase practically growls, crossing his arms over his chest in a manner that is supposed to be intimidating, yet only makes my mouth water.

  Time to shut this down.

  I roll my eyes at Chase (because I know how much he likes it) and say, “Don’t be a jerk, Jerky McJerkface.”

  His eyes narrow into laser pointers. “Jerky McJerkface? Did you learn that on the playground during recess?”

  Again, I give my eyes one big, long roll. “It’s my car, Chase, and if I want to drive it until the wheels fall off, then so be it. It’s. My. Life.” Who cares that my Honda is approaching her fifteenth birthday and two hundred thousand miles? This car has gotten me from point A to B on every occasion (present situation excluded). I’ve cried in that car, sang at the top of my lungs in it, and even lost the ol’ V-card in the back seat. Why get a new one just to add a car payment?

  “Well, congratulations, genius. It sounds like you did just that,” Chase argues, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

  I growl and open my mouth to argue, but am cut off by Harrison. “Well, this is fun and all, but maybe you two can continue this later? I have a few things to go over with Gabby before my nine o’clock appointment.”

  Glancing at the clock, I realize he only has minutes. “Ready, boss man,” I tell him, grabbing my tablet out of my desk drawer and standing to follow him into his office, completely giving Chase the cold shoulder as I go.

  “Gabrielle Lynn, tell me that scone is not yours.” I hear as I enter my brother-in-law’s office.

  I go ahead and glance back, even though I really shouldn’t, and find Chase standing at my desk, his hands on his lean hips, and his T-shirt molded to his chest. His tan legs stand firm, his thighs like muscular tree trunks I want to climb. And let’s not forget that his ink is on full display, the flames sliding up his bicep and disappearing beneath his shirtsleeve.

  See? Told you I shouldn’t have looked.

  Knowing it’ll drive him absolutely bonkers, I shrug. “Oh, that?” I could just tell him it was a free peace offering for my forgotten coffee order, but instead, I go the antagonistic route and goad him along. “What if it is?”

  Before I realize what’s happening, he’s advancing. Chase stands before me, towering over me like the giant he is and glares down. “Oh, I’m going to work your ass over so hard tonight,” he barks, throwing in that trademarked easy-go-lucky smirk he always seems to wear.

  Down, girl! He’s not talking about working you over in the bedroom.

  “I look forward to whatever form of torture you bring tonight, Mr. Callahan,” I whisper, my voice suddenly hoarse and gritty.

  His blue eyes sparkle as his face splits into one of those panty-melting grins. “We’ll be on the mats this evening,” he replies, making my lady parts cry in excitement. Of course, those bits don’t realize we’ll be fully clothed as we stretch and move on the mats, nor do they understand that we hate Chase Callahan and he’s not allowed anywhere near said lady bits.

  “Can’t wait,” I reply through gritted teeth.

  He stands there just staring at me, which is weird because I’m just standing here, staring at him too. Harrison clears his throat, reminding me that I was halfway into his office when Chase interrupted to criticize my breakfast choices.

  As I turn, his movement catches my attention, and I realize the man is eating my scone. “Hey!” I holler.

  With a mouth full of chocolaty pastry deliciousness, Chase smirks and winks as he walks out of the office.

  Jerky McJerkface.

  I’m finishing up a salad at my desk and scouring the internet for rentals as the end of my lunch break draws near. How is it possible that there are no decent places available on short one-week notice? Everything I’ve found is either way out of my price range or the size of a shoebox. With my car officially out of commission, there’s no way I can afford an increase in rent. Harrison pays me a decent wage, but that doesn’t mean I can add upward of three hundred bucks a month for rent.

  My eyes are starting to cross, I’ve looked at so many pictures and listings. In the three weeks since I received the letter, I’ve checked out three apartments in town. One was straight up ghetto (if there were a ghetto in Fair Lakes), the second had a neighbor stepping into the hall wearing nothing but stained tighty-whities, and the third was next to the jail. Did you know on nice afternoons they open the windows? I was called babycakes and dollface no less than three times, and I’m pretty sure the marriage offer was legit, if it would get him out of confinement.

  According to the letter I received just over three weeks ago, I have until Sunday night at six to vacate my apartment. The entire building is coming down, making way for some new three-unit business complex that’ll eat up the entire city block. I never knew Fair Lakes was big enough for another shopping place, but apparently it is. And of all the locations in town, they chose my block, just one road over from the main thoroughfare in town.

  In less than a week, I’ll either be moving back home with my parents or moving into the jail apartment and risk getting killed every day when I get off work. Dramatic? Yes. But when you’ve been searching for a new place to live and keep coming up empty, you’d understand my fussiness.

  As I close down the internet browser, Harrison’s office door opens up. “Look, Sophia, it’s Aunt Gabby!” my sister coos to her daughter.

  My butt is out of my chair so fast that I almost trip. “Look at you, Princess Sophia,” I fuss as I take my niece in my arms. “You are getting so big,” I add, tickling her tiny Buddha belly.

  “You just saw her last night,” my sister reminds me as she grins down at the baby in my arms. She’s not wrong, either. I usually help watch Soph while Harrison and Gwen work out. They started doing that together while she was pregnant, and even though my sister looks amazing, she insists they continue. She’s a preschool teacher, but took the remainder of the current school year off after having Sophia. If I’m honest, I would be surprised if she went back to work. Gwen is a natural mother and loves spending every waking hour with her daughter.

  “I did, and she has grown even more.” I take my niece over to my desk and grab one of the toys I keep in my desk drawer for her. She instantly takes it and shoves it in her mouth, happily gnawing on the plastic teether. “Before I know it, she’ll be in college.”

  “See? We better
hurry and give her some siblings,” Harrison says as he comes out of his office and wraps his arm around my sister’s waist. That familiar ping of longing sweeps in, reminding me that my love life has been barely above subpar lately. Okay, most of my life, but who’s keeping track?

  “We’ve got time,” Gwen says, placing a kiss on her husband’s cheek.

  “We’ve got time right now,” he replies, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You don’t mind watching her for fifteen more minutes, right, Gabby?”

  “Ew,” I reply, trying not to think about my sister and brother-in-law doing the nasty.

  “Oh, it’s definitely not ew. In fact, your sister does this thing with her—”

  “My God, stop talking right now!” I holler, startling my niece. “Sorry, baby girl, but Mommy and Daddy were being all gross and touchy-feely.”

  “Touchy-feely is how she got here,” Harrison quips with a smirk.

  “This is a horrible working environment,” I state as I lightly bounce Sophia on my leg.

  “It is?” he asks, his face completely somber. Harrison takes his business very seriously and wouldn’t want to jeopardize what they’ve built over the last several years. Especially after the whole Gina fiasco, he’s all about making sure things run smoothly.

  “No, I was teasing,” I tell him honestly.

  In fact, I love my job. My brother-in-law is a great boss. Before I started here, I was a travel agent in town, working for a husband-and-wife team. There were five agents in one office, but as the travel industry started to shift last winter, cuts had to be made. My job was one of those cuts. It just so happened that Gina went all nutty at the same time I lost my job, so I was able to offer up my organizational and time management services to Harrison at just the right time.