A Man without a past meets a man without a future in Repaired by Melissa Collins
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Blurb
Liam Davis is a man without a past. That’s what he wants everyone to believe,
anyway.
Hell-bent on erasing any memories of his previous life, he knows that starting over is
all he can do. Hiding who he is, where he’s from, why he’s running, and especially
who he’s left behind, Liam has run away from everything he’s ever known. His plan
works perfectly until one day when Parker Ryan threatens to expose his carefully
concealed world.
Parker Ryan is a man without a future. Sure, he’s a partner in one of New York’s most
prestigious law firms, but he’ll never be more than a failure in the eyes of his boss, his
father. Rather than break away from his father’s standards, he finds himself mindlessly
pursuing them, in turn sacrificing anything that would actually make him happy.
When Liam’s and Parker’s lives collide, the ugly truth about who they really are, and
who they hope to become reveals itself when they least expect it. As both of their lives
become wrecked beyond all belief, they’ll learn how to rely on each other in their
journey to become Repaired.
Excerpt
It
was only the sound of tires coming to a halt in the lot of the shop
that pulled my attention away from drying the last droplets of water
from Parker’s windshield. The sleek black sedan had to be Parker’s. It
definitely wasn’t the usual ride of our clientele. Tucking the towel
into my back pocket, I walked toward the car. Stopped dead in my tracks
by the sight of Parker’s long legs stretching out of the car; my mouth
actually went dry. Lying to myself, I chalked it up to working all
afternoon without eating or drinking. If I wanted to be honest, it had
everything to do with him. His long, strong legs were showcased
perfectly in a pair of uppity khakis—khakis I should hate, but ones my
fingers itched to rip from his body. It became impossible to look away
from him as he swiped his aviators from his face. His biceps flexed
under the thin cotton of his black polo, making swallowing a challenge.
When he pushed them up into his sandy blond hair, it was almost as if I
could feel the silkiness of the strands as they flopped back down into
his eyes. His mouth fell wide open as he took in the sight of his car
behind me. Turning around quickly, he thanked the driver for the ride
and then shooed him away.
After clearing my throat, in some vain attempt at finding my voice, I managed a simple, “Hey.”
Parker
looked down at my hand, extended for him to shake, with frustration
that bordered on anger. It wasn’t lost on me that he was constantly
reining in his emotions when he was around me. Tracking his gaze, I
realized my hand was still dotted with specs of grease, though not
enough that it should warrant that look.
He nodded his hello, not uttering a word. Shame forced me to tuck my hand into my pocket and walk him toward his car.
“Flat’s
been changed,” I explained, squatting down to the new tire. “New rim
and the damage to the under carriage is all taken care of, too.”
“I didn’t ask for it to be cleaned and detailed.” His voice was harsh, stressed even.
Completely thrown off guard by his blunt comment, I turned on my heel and walked us toward the office portion of the shop.
Once
inside, I slid his bill across the counter. His eyes were glued to the
detailed bill, but mine were glued to his chiseled face. His jaw ticked
with an anger, which I couldn’t put my finger on. When he chewed on his
lower lip, I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts clearly. The only sound
racing through my ears was that of my pounding blood.
“An oil change?” He looked up at me with tense eyes.
“Yeah,
but there’s no charge.” Pointing to the item on the list, I traced my
finger to the side of the bill where all the prices were listed. “You
were due for one and since I was stuck here, I needed something to keep
myself busy.” The faraway look in his eyes suggested he hadn’t heard a
word I’d just said.
“Why’d you do all of this?” His voice was softer, a touch less angry. “You didn’t have to.”
The
blood thrummed in my ears even louder. Whatever hard shell he’d had on
out at his car moments earlier, was cracking a little. Bits of himself
he seemed to guard carefully were falling away like peeling paint,
scattering across the floor.
Shrugging, I responded, “Yeah, I know. Was just trying to be nice since you were spending so much.”
The
anger in his face returned with a vengeance, pulling tight lines in the
corners of his eyes. Through clenched teeth, he gritted out, “I told
you not to worry about the fucking money.”
His
voice made my stomach twist in knots, and not simply because he was
angry with me. The power, the control, the dominance of it all called to
me on a level I spent years trying to cover up.
“Here.”
Sliding a pen across the counter to him, I tipped my chin down at the
paper. “Just sign it. What’s done is done, so unless you want me to
drain the oil and throw mud at your precious car, then I can’t take
those things back.” Turning around to the binder where we kept the sales
receipts, I muttered under my breath, “You know some people are just
thankful when someone else does something nice for them.”
When
I turned back to the counter, Parker was holding the signed receipt in
his hand, the anger absent from his eyes. “You’re right,” he admitted
quietly.
Reaching
for the paper, Parker made a very obvious move, grazing his fingers
against mine as the sheet of paper glided like silk passing from his
hand to mine. At the simple touch, his shoulders relaxed, sinking at
least an inch or two away from his ears.
Gambling on the very obvious change in his demeanor, I took a chance and asked, “Is everything okay?”
His
full lips parted as he sighed. Completely mesmerized by his long
fingers raking through his hair and pulling his sunglasses down, I found
my mouth opening, too. He tucked the sunglasses into his opened collar,
exposing a light dusting of hair which matched the color on his head.
“If
it’s about the car, I can charge you.” I laughed nervously. “I mean if
taking your money will make you feel better, by all means, don’t let me
get in your way.”
“It’s
not you who’s the problem. I just had a shit day, but that’s none of
your concern.” His words were quite the opposite of the stern
self-confidence he’d shown just moments before.
When
I didn’t respond with anything more than a laugh, Parker’s lips curled
into a small smile, erasing the lines of tension, distorting his ocean
blue eyes. He laughed along with me, softly, cautiously almost. “No,
it’s okay, really. The car looks great. And I appreciate the oil
change.” He handed me his credit card and I swiped it through the
machine. Hypnotized by the masculine lines of his signature, I watched
as he signed the receipt. “Besides,” he added, catching me staring at
his hands. “It looks as if everything is squared away now.”
After
filing away his receipt, we both walked out of the office. His heat was
a palpable force surrounding me as he stood behind me. Nervousness
coursed through my body. My fingers shaking, I tried but failed to lock
the door. The keys dropped to the ground, sending a billow of dust up
into the air.
Before
I could grab them, Parker scooped them up. Dangling them in front of
me, he smirked. “Everything okay?” He echoed my words from just a few
minutes ago, but there was heat in his voice, gritty and raw somehow.
“Yeah. Fine.” Snatching the keys from his hands, I quickly locked the door; thankful I didn’t drop the keys again.
As
we walked over to his BMW, an uncomfortable silence followed us. Rather
than moving toward his own car, he escorted me to mine. “Can I pay you
back with a beer?” Leaning against the glossy black paint of my car, he
looked like a piece of artwork.
“You
don’t have to. I said I didn’t mind doing those things.” Averting my
eyes from his, I fumbled with the lock on my door. The key slid in
easily, but turning it became a herculean task, like pulling the sword
from the stone. My brain and hand wouldn’t work together to complete the
simplest of tasks.
Parker’s
hand fell to mine, steadying it. Heat passed between us as our eyes met
over our joined hands. Relief washed over me as he spoke first, because
for me speech was something that just wasn’t going to happen.
“Fine.
Then it won’t be to pay you back. I had a shit day and I could use a
drink.” He pulled his hand back at his admission, running it through his
hair. “Sorry,” he added, looking down at my hand, frozen where he’d
left it. Honestly, I was afraid if I moved it, the heat of his touch
would be gone forever. “I didn’t mean to . . .” His words trailed off as
he jammed his hands into his front pockets—an action that pulled the
front of his khakis even tighter against his groin. “Forget it. Thanks
again. See you around.”
On
its own volition, my hand reached for his shoulder as he strode away
from me. “Wait.” We faced each other again. Finding it impossible to do
anything other than smile at him, I did just that. Angling my head down
the block, I said, “There’s this place. Murray’s. It’s right down that
way. We can grab a drink and some food there.” His torn look confused
the fuck out of me since he’d just asked. Taking a chance on him, and on
the physical spark I couldn’t possibly deny, I tried my best to
convince him. “Let’s go have a drink and you can share some of your shit
day with me.” He nodded and I added, “Besides it couldn’t possibly be
worse than mine. Wait until I tell you all about this asshole and his
BMW.”
About the Author:
Melissa Collins
Melissa Collins has always been a book worm. Studying Literature in college ensured that her nose was always stuck in a book. She followed her passion for reading to the most logical career choice: English teacher. Her hope was to share her passion for reading and the escapism of books to her students. Having spent more than a decade in front of a classroom, she can easily say that it’s been a dream.
Her passion for writing didn’t start until more recently. When she was home on maternity leave in early 2012, she read her first romance novel and her head filled with the passion, angst and laughter of the characters who she read about it. It wasn’t long before characters of her own took shape in her mind. Their lives took over Melissa’s brain and The Love Series was born.
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