Rocky Waters (Lovers Lake) Read online

  “Seriously, I’m not that clumsy,” I sigh, rolling my eyes at her. I pull my stuffed luggage off my bed, catching my finger in the grip, pinching my skin. Although I’m quick to mask the pain, but not fast enough and Georgie grabs my hand to look.

  Satisfied that it’s nothing major, she lets it go and then says, “Yeah okay. If that’s the story you’re going with. I love you is all.”

  “I know. I know. I love you too.” Sisters. I roll my eyes and suck on my injured index finger.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Not really, but for some reason this helps.”

  “You definitely need all the help you can get,” she says, pulling me into her arms for a hug.

  “Yeah, well fuck off, brat.”

  She’s really a sweetheart, but they worry about me so much it gets hard. I’m the older one and I bust my ass to take care of them financially. They all work, but I’d prefer if they focus on school. Becoming a model has helped a bit with the finances. It’s not enough to pay the bills, but it beats getting my old job back waitressing. I’m performing in a play or rehearsing for my next role most nights, but I haven’t landed anything in a month and my savings is running dangerously low. I love the stage and some parts pay better than others, but it's not enough to pay all the bills.

  I’ve been contacted by agents, talent scouts from L.A.. Still, I've never considered going to Hollywood because I'm not glitz and glamour twenty-four-seven.

  My most recent gig as a cover model for romance novels has been a blast. New shoots every other week with different costumes, makeup, and wigs. Most of the covers are very sensual even though I'm not naked. They sell like hotcakes, but with Michael behind the lens it may go for a heck of a lot more. He has a way to bring out the magic behind a smile.

  We step out into the living room with my suitcase and duffel bag, and I get my messenger bag to make sure I have everything I need including my plane ticket.

  “You haven’t left yet?” Lydia asks, popping through the front door of our apartment. We share a three bedroom in the Bridgeport neighborhood just off the Orange Line in Chicago. Two months ago, we moved in together when Lydia turned eighteen since our parents decided Florida sounded a lot better than icy winters in the Midwest.

  “I’m almost gone.” I continue to stuff my shoes in my suitcase. Both are already full, so I hope I haven’t forgotten anything. I have six different outfits for the shoot, plus two regular ones for me. We’re only going to be there for the weekend, so I have plenty of clothes, but I also had to pack my makeup and hair tools just in case. Since I’ve never had a photoshoot out of the state, I don’t have any idea what to bring with me.

  “No getting carried away by the rough waters,” Lydia chides, wagging her finger like I’m a little girl. I’m the oldest, after all. Leaning on my suitcase, I tug the zipper around, getting it to close. This is going to be like one of those can of worms things. I hope it goes straight through the luggage check without an issue.

  I huff and lift my duffel off the chair and swing it over my shoulder with my bag and pop up the handle on my suitcase, dragging it to the door. “Goodness. I’m going to the shoot with a couple of people. It’s not like I’m going to be alone.” I love my sisters, but they can be pains.

  “Still, you’re pretty quick to tip over. Stay off cliffs and peaks and stuff. Pleeease!” Lydia presses her hands together, begging me.

  She moves just out of my reach as I swipe at her. Shaking my head, I let out a light laugh. “Shut it. I will. Now give me a hug because I’m supposed to catch a plane to Colorado by three.” Both of them crowd me, squeezing hard and hugging me before I choke out, “Let me go, dorks.”

  “Be good, and don’t go falling for some mountain man,” Lydia wags her finger at me but then tosses me a wink.

  “You need to stop reading those books, Lydia.” One man comes to mind, but he’s not a mountain man. He was born and raised in the area we’re shooting in, but he doesn’t live there anymore. I hoped to run into him, by chance, get him to fall madly in love with me instantly, and sweep me off my feet, but that will never happen. The odds of meeting Bennett Lake are astronomical.

  “Well, maybe you need to start,” she tosses right back.

  “One day, but for now, I’ll stick to the crime books. Be good and be safe,” I say before rushing out of the apartment and down the street to the train station.

  I hurry over to the Orange Line platform and hop on the train just as it pulls into the station. I take that as a sign of good luck. Lydia texts me right away to make sure I haven’t fallen off the platform. I’ve never even gotten close to the edge, but they’re brats.

  Me: Yep. Totally fell off. Using my last energy to text you goodbye, assholes.

  Lydia: At least you had a good run.

  Georgie: Don’t listen to her. Good luck. Don’t trip. Unless it’s in the arms of a single, hot guy.

  I love having sisters. Even bratty ones.

  I take a seat with the open space for my luggage in front of me. Right now the train’s relatively empty, but I know it won’t last as we get closer to Midway. I send a text to Michael who should already be in Denver.

  The shoot is going to be just north about two hours around Bennett Lake. I’ve read all his books and supposedly from his author profile he’s from around that area. Maybe that’s where he got his pen name. There isn’t much information on the tall handsome bastard, so I don’t know if he’s married or has a family of his own, but I sure as hell imagine him giving me a family. Ashamedly, I have a crush on him after seeing his author profile and his Facebook author page which I’m sure he has nothing to do with. Most of the posts relate strictly to his works. It says he moved to Texas a while back, so meeting him is probably out of the question, but a girl can fantasize.

  I pull out his last book, hoping that he’ll release another soon, but I know that’s not how it works. Supposedly he has something in the works for the winter, but that’s only the buzz and nothing definitive has posted as of this morning.

  The train comes to a stop at Midway, halting my reading, but it’s so freaking good that I can’t wait to sit down and pick up where I left off. My flight’s not for another hour, so hopefully I can get to my terminal and relax and move on to the next chapter.

  I get to the halfway point when they call us to board the plane. Settling into my seat with a smile, I buckle myself in and pull out my book, flipping it to my bookmarked page and continue on reading.

  ****

  We’ve finally landed in Denver after a bit of delay, and thankfully, I’ve finished the book, closing the paperback with a sigh. I love reading paperbacks so much. I take my duffel out of the overhead bin and sling my messenger bag over my shoulder. I make it quickly to the luggage carousel and scoop up my suitcase.

  When I turn around, I see the sign with my name. I’m slightly disappointed that it’s not Michael himself, but at least there’s someone here to take me where I need to go. It’s a handsome man who looks familiar, but I’m not sure where I’ve seen him before.

  “Hello, I’m Warrick. We’ll be doing the photoshoot together with Michael.” Now I remember. I received a message from Michael, when I boarded, about Warrick picking me up if he wasn’t going to make it. I’d been so enthralled in my book that I forgot.

  I slap my forehead lightly. “Totally spazzed. Sorry, let’s get going. I don’t want to keep Michael waiting.”

  “He’ll have to wait. Do you have everything?” He rakes his eyes over me as if he’s not talking about my luggage.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you like that book?” He points to the one I carry about like a treasure.

  “Yes. I’ve read Mr. Lake’s entire catalog,” I answer with a smile.

  He scoffs and then with an air of arrogance says, “I hate reading. Music, though, that’s my passion.” Funny, I don’t recall asking what he enjoys. Something about his attitude bothers me.

  “Makes sense,” I mutter under my breath. War
rick has the look of an eighties hair band meets hipster. “So you don’t ever read the books you’re on?”

  “No. I can’t stand the trashy romances, but they pay the bills, so keep them coming.” I smile politely, but with every second that passes I dislike this guy more and more.

  We make it through the airport and to the exit while I try to create some distance. I flag down a cab and it pulls up to where we are. I load my own things and take a cab to the hotel. Tomorrow we leave for the shoot which is fine by me because we still have a drive to make and I’m not looking forward to anything right now except a nap.

  “You’ve gone quiet. Let me guess, you read those trashy books.” I want to junk punch him, but I remain cool, calm, and collected.

  “Actually, I don’t read much romance at all. I prefer these thrillers.” I wave the book in front of him. I’m not looking to justify anything. He’s rude and obnoxious, so I’ll keep my mouth as quiet as possible.

  “You know you have to be the prettiest model I’ve had the luxury of working with.” I can’t say the same, so I don’t.

  “Thank you.” I power on my cell phone and send my sisters a message in our little group chat. Since I didn’t respond with a compliment for him, he makes a big deal of whipping out his phone as well.

  It’s evident that he thinks he’s going to get lucky, but that’s never going to happen. I can tell right off the bat that we don’t have any chemistry. I hope Michael doesn’t notice because I don’t want to lose the money I’ve already spent to get here. We step out of the cab and of course, rude guy also doesn't bother paying the tab, so I give the driver a twenty and thank him. Michael's standing right there and he doesn't miss it either. "Darcy, remember to bill me for the cab fare as well."

  "Okay."

  He takes my suitcase for me and add, "Follow me. I've got your rooms for the night. Tomorrow we drive out to Lakeland, and we'll stay in town before we head up to the perfect spot at Bennett Lake.”

  Goodness, Bennett Lake, he's one hell of a man. Gorgeous, intelligent, sexy, and so talented.

  "Earth to Darcy." Warrick snaps his fingers in my face. "We're getting on the elevator. You coming?"

  "Sorry. Lost in thought." Asshole.

  "Must have been a good one. Tomorrow I want that look out of you. I don't know who you were thinking about, but that works. You've got hunger and passion written in your eyes,” Michael says with a professional vigor. The man has a great eye and I’m happy to work with him, but embarrassment still floods every cell. I can’t believe my feelings for Bennett Lake are so visible on my face.

  "Um, thanks,” I stutter, ducking my head sheepishly.

  "Who were you thinking of?" Warrick demands to know like he has a right to be jealous.

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Bullshit. You just went totally hot over some thought. Are you after Michael?" he questions, puffing out his chest.

  "Um...no." I look to Michael. "No offense."

  "None taken. I'm guessing it's Bennett Lake." That would be a correct guess and he knows it, grinning from ear to ear.

  "What? What makes you think that?"

  "I mentioned the lake and then you have one of his books in your hand. It's a dead giveaway. I’ve been trying to call him all day, but he’s got his phone off which means he’s writing like crazy, so he won’t mind that we’ll be there while he’s working.”

  He’s going to be there? I try to catch my breath and then blurt out, “I thought he lives in Texas.”

  “He does, but he comes up here to work for a couple of weeks a year.”

  “He’s in town?” I gasp.

  “Damn, girl, you got it bad,” Michael teases. The elevator dings and I'm saved by the bell since my room is just off the elevators. I grab my suitcase from Michael.

  "Thanks, guys. I'll see you later." I swipe my card and close the door behind me before they get to say goodbye. My heart’s racing as I think about meeting him.

  I'll send a message to Michael later, apologizing. I don't like the jealous way Warrick acted when he realized I was daydreaming about someone else. I don't even know the guy. Maybe he's got an ego on him and since I didn't drop at his feet begging to be taken, I've ticked him off.

  Oh well. I drop everything next to the door and plop onto the bed, kicking off my shoes in the process. Suddenly, I have the urge to look up Bennett Lake for the thousandth time. I wonder if Michael knows him well enough to introduce us. “Girl, get a grip. It’s not like if you met he’d toss you over his shoulder and carry you away to do filthy things to you.” No. He’ll probably grunt and nod politely and offer an autograph or something before walking away.

  Chapter Three

  Bennett

  With a day to kill, I decide that today is the perfect day to go for a hike down to the lake. It’s been a great hike this morning until my phone rings. It’s my friend, the world renown photographer, Michael Cole. He’s a cool guy and is the one who did my headshots for my marketing team that Sean insisted I needed. “What’s up, Michael?”

  He sighs, “Hey, Rocky, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday. I’m taking two models to the lake today and wanted to see if it was cool.”

  “You know I’m up here working,” I bite out, hating that there’s people wanting to disturb my peace.

  “Well, then it shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll only be here for a few hours and well, my female model is a huge fan of yours.” He says it like I should be happy about it. When have I ever been overjoyed about female attention? Never.

  “Son of a bitch. I’m not interested in meeting a big fan of mine. I don’t want them to know where I live. Besides, I’m out on a hike and now I’m almost to the lake’s edge. Where are you?”

  He chuckles, “I’m by the lake already. I’m sorry, but I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal since you’d be inside writing.”

  “For you it’s not, but…”

  “Hold on a sec.” I wait as I hear him say, “Stand together,” away from the phone.

  Returning his attention back to the phone, he says, “I’m sending you a pic. Darcy’s beautiful and she was actually reading your book when she got here, so I thought maybe you could say hi at least.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I end the call and refuse to check the text message. I’m not interested in any women, and especially a groupie or whatever Sean likes to call them. Still, I don’t want to be a dick. What if she heard what he said and is waiting for a brief intro? I don’t want to come off as an asshole just because I don’t want women throwing themselves at me.

  I pull out my phone and go to shoot him a text, agreeing to the meet and greet when I see the image he sent.

  “Fuck me.” I stop, lean against a large tree before I fall out on my ass as I stare at the picture. Long brown hair with sun kissed highlights with pretty waves, framing her lightly flushed face, standing there with a smile is my future wife. Unfortunately, there’s a dumb fuck that wants his arm broken. It’s around my woman. I’ve never been a violent man okay; that’s a lie. I fought Jason like my life depended on it, earning me the nickname Rocky because I was so much smaller than my opponent and I still won.

  I call Michael back, but the asshole doesn’t answer. So I shoot him a text.

  Get that asshole away from my woman.

  I send a second message. Now.

  I push off the tree with almost enough damn force to hear the slightest crack in the fucker. I’ve never been one to use my fists because I’ve never had to, but I’ve spent years with sparring partners at the gym and constantly building up my physique. I’m about to destroy this son of a bitch. I look at the picture again, nearly causing myself to trip, so I stop again. She’s in a pair of cutoff jeans and a powder blue bikini top. I swear I let out a growl so loud that they might actually hear me from where they’re at.

  The thought of that man’s arms around my woman makes my blood boil. I look at that pompous handsome prick and want to ring his scrawny
neck. I take the path double-time to get down to them. My heart pounds wildly as I make my way closer to my woman. The first person I see is Michael as I come up behind my woman and that punk. Michael continues to snap pictures of them. I don’t even know how to explain how pissed I am right now, and I know that I don’t have a reason for it considering she and I have never met, but my soul disagrees. He’s staking his claim on her without a word.

  A smile passes Michael’s face as he sees me. I climb down the slope only to see that asshole with his hands pinning my woman against a rock. “Enough,” I roar, startling my woman and that pussy touching her. He cowers, letting her go instead of attempting to protect her. Although, he’s the one who is going to need protection in a minute.

  “Michael. Get this fucker off my property before I bury him here,” I growl out like the animal I’ve suddenly become. He touched my woman. I should bury him anyway.

  “Sure, Rocky. Are you okay?” he asks, doing his best not to crack up.

  “Go now. Destroy those photos.” I don’t recognize my own voice as I bark out my commands.

  “Understood.” I’m sure Michael’s head is spinning with this different side of me, but I don’t give a fuck because all I can see, smell, feel is the air between this beauty and me. There’s just too much damn space between us for my liking. I need to fix that.

  “Name,” I growl as I drag her to me. I can’t believe I’d forgotten it. Her pulse picks up double-time as I cup her neck, rubbing my thumb along her jaw.

  “Darcy,” she stammers, eyes wide with something daring shining in those baby blues.

  “Darcy, you’re mine,” I state before dropping my head to hers, cupping her cheek and crushing her lips with my own. “Open up,” I demand. She complies, letting out a tiny moan as I devour her taste. Fuck. I have to get her alone and right now. She clings to me, her body melding against mine, fitting perfectly.

  I pull us apart, but I keep her wrist in mine. “Michael, I’m not kidding. Get this asshole off my property. Darcy’s coming with me.” I don’t utter another word when I toss her over my shoulder and make toward the path to the house.