To trust, p.1
To Trust, page 1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Author
To Trust
Publication Information
Dedication
Author Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
About the Author
Also Available
Also Available
Thank You
Life was good…until a
one-night stand changed everything
His laugh warmed me, and without thinking I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his jaw. His sharp intake delightful to me. I dropped the blanket and headed to the kitchen with an extra swagger in my step.
“Want some coffee?” I asked over my shoulder.
He grunted his answer, and I giggled.
“For every action there is a consequence,” he said as he stepped to the front door.
Away from his knowing eyes, my smile grew, and I made my drink. Muffled voices carried through the air, incoherent because of the distance. I listened for a minute and when no one approached, I daydreamed, looking out the window at the peaceful lake. I held the steaming mug close to my chest and inhaled the rich aroma.
“Ann Marie,” Morgan yelled, startling me out of my reverie.
I headed for him, cautious of the hot drink in my grip. I couldn’t see past Morgan’s broad shoulders. He rested his arm against the open wood and kept the guest outside and hidden from view. His tense neck and back muscles a loud warning sign.
At my approach, Morgan shifted, and I glimpsed the man standing at the threshold. Shocked, I stumbled and dropped the mug. It shattered on the entry-way slate tile. Pieces of ceramic ricocheted off the floor and lodged into my shins. I didn’t know which was worse. The pain from the hot liquid, the pain in my pierced skin, or seeing the asshole at Morgan’s door.
Praise for Author
Rasha Selim
“Scalding hot from start to finish with all of the tingly feels of a satisfying happily ever after.”
~Reagan Phillips, USA Today Bestselling Author
~*~
“Rasha Selim wrote a story full of heart. Morgan and Ann Marie pull you into their world and don’t let you go. You can feel their love between the pages.”
~Susana Mohel, International Bestselling Author
TO HONOR
“I loved the chemistry, interactions, and banter in this story. I can’t wait for more in this series!”
~Jenn, Yeah Or Neigh Reviews
~*~
“Flirty, sexy, and fun. The perfect beach read.”
~Cynthia D’Alba, USA and
NY Times Bestselling Author
To Trust
Evergreen Point Book Two
by
Rasha Selim
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
To Trust
COPYRIGHT © 2022 by Rasha Selim
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Publishing History
First Edition, 2022
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-4125-5
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4126-2
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For Ann Marie
Author Acknowledgments
I owe a mighty thanks to several people without whom, this book would never have seen the light of day.
My awesome husband who understands my need to seclude myself to write before all the characters in my head become angry.
My three boys, although teenagers now, who bring me sustenance while I am writing (and answer questions on today’s youth culture).
My Beta Readers, Jennifer and Susan. Without their input, my stories would still be a jumbled mess in my draft folders.
My amazingly patient editor, Judi.
My readers for always wanting more.
The Wild Rose Press, Inc. for putting their faith in me and my stories.
And of course, Ann Marie for answering my many texts at random times of the day. I hope I did your character justice.
Chapter One
Morgan
The alarm on my phone, sitting on the workbench, blared through the workshop speakers as I finished applying the final touches on the custom bike. I wiped my hands on the rag tucked in my back pocket and silenced my phone. The crooning, lovesick musician’s voice filled the room once again.
Rain knocked against the galvanized steel roof and competed with the volume of my music. Nothing beat the solitude of working up a sweat in my own space with chrome beneath my fingers. I stepped away and admired the finished chopper before me. I spotted a smudge, grabbed a clean rag from the shelf, and shined the metal until my image reflected back at me.
I turned off the music and headed inside to the living room as my phone rang. I needed a shower and a change of clothes before walking over to my childhood home, five houses down the street. Since my family knew my dislike of unnecessary conversation, it could be one of three people. I answered, after chuckling at the new image on my screen.
“Hey, Red. Nice picture.”
Her laugh boomed through the speaker, and I puffed out my chest, pleased I made her laugh.
“Don’t ever change your password. I have way too much fun surprising you.”
“I could do with a little less Pax, though. Less face sucking action.”
“Admit it, asshole. You’re jealous.” Pax said.
“Red? Give a guy some warning when you have him on speaker. I would hate for Pax to hear all our secrets. Wouldn’t want your fair skin to match your hair.”
Susan’s red hair resembled the color of a firetruck. Ironic, considering her situation. Her fiancé, my older brother, was a firefighter. But long before she became Pax’s girlfriend, she was my best friend.
Susan laughed, and Pax growled.
“Quit stirring trouble,” she said around her giggles. “Anyway, we’re on our way over.”
“Why?”
“Duh. It’s raining. Stop working and go shower.”
“Rain won’t hurt me.” I stripped as I walked to my room and threw my sweat-dampened clothes into the hamper inside the en suite bathroom.
“Are you kidding me? It’s like forty-five degrees out here. By the time you get to Mom and Dad’s your twenty-seven-year-old shriveled balls will be popsicles.”
I sighed and held in a chuckle. “Thanks for your concern over my balls, but I assure you they’ll thaw out. They’re still young.” Naked, I leaned into the stall, turned on the water, and adjusted the taps for the optimal temperature. “Hey, Hulk. Tell your woman I can walk.”
“Good luck. You know she’s stubborn.”
He was right, and with a half-hearted huff, I relented. “Give me ten.”
“Perfect, that’s how long ’til we get there,” Susan said.
I hung up, dropped my phone on the countertop, and stepped under the streaming water. It took less time to shower since I cut my shoulder-length straight hair but left it long enough to run my hands through it.
I dried off and dressed in my most comfortable dark jeans, a white T-shirt, worn biker boots, and a black leather jacket. I strove for relaxed, predictable, and easy in all aspects of my life. I liked nothing more than those three words.
It was the reason I left my job at the garage. Contrary to common belief, men whined and gossiped at headache-inducing levels, and the constant chatter of the shop pushed at my limits.
I enjoyed my uncomplicated life. I didn’t date but had a few women I visited when the need arose. I preferred my solitude. My family and Susan, the few people allowed within my domain or heart.
The fewer you let in, the less it hurt when they left.
I stood in my living room, my gaze focused outside. The trees hid my house from the road. Insulated me from the world. The infrequent times I loosened my tight hold on my sensibilities were always in the privacy of my home. When I designed, built, or strummed my guitar, I allowed my emotions to flow. The few hours I surrendered in seclusion were enough to keep me in check.
I hummed as I dressed. Yes, I could sing. A skill I kept secret, not because of the inevitable family teasing, but because when I sang, I didn’t trust my discipline. The words and rhythm of a song pushed at my self-control, allowing actions and reflections to surface from the depth in which I buried them.
The loud engine of a truck rumbled down my driveway silenced at my front door. I stepped out and petted the black cat who found me working one day with the shop doors open. And he hadn’t left since.
Susan and her veterinary friend checked him over when he first arrived. Over time, we developed a quiet understanding. He sat with me when I played my guitar on the dock, or he lounged on a blanket in the garage when I worked if the overhead doors stayed open. He refused entry into the house no matter what food I waved under his nose. Enclosed spaces could be scary. I understood anxieties, and I left him to deal as best he knew how with his demons.
We all had our own monsters lurking around corners, anticipating our weakest moments.
Every day was a battle, but each time I fought and won because of my family and the woman in my brother’s truck jumping for joy at seeing me. I pocketed my keys and wallet, dropped my sunglasses down onto my nose, and walked to the parked truck.
****
Ann Marie
I sat in the back seat of Pax’s truck, and listened to the phone conversation with Morgan, nervous and chastising myself for it. As a twenty-six-year-old founder and CEO of a design and marketing company in Seattle, not much fazed me. But the prospect of seeing Morgan again sent shivers down my back and turned me into a nervous, pubescent girl.
I met him twice before, once as an awkward twelve-year-old, visiting Susan and her dad, and the second this past summer at Susan’s fundraiser in May. Tall, dark, handsome, chiseled, and tattooed to the nines. Greek statues were hideous in comparison.
His stern features portrayed no hint of his thoughts. He grumped more than he talked, yet I thrummed with excitement in his presence. Never mind the number of fantasies he starred in over the past seven months.
The pulse between my legs increased and butterflies swarmed my belly. The sensations created a duality of emotions. Excitement and self-recrimination did not go hand-in-hand.
“You’re quiet back there,” Susan said, without turning her body toward me.
Pax was very much into safety and he didn’t tolerate anyone moving about in his car, a fact I learned within seconds of my first ride in his truck. He pulled off into a parking lot when I leaned forward and rested my chin on the back of the front seat. He scowled at me in silence. Susan giggled and waved her fingers for me to move back. Once I resettled in my seat, he eyed me in the rear-view mirror before driving again.
“Didn’t want to upset the big lug. Talking about the things I’m thinking of can prove dangerous while driving.”
Pax’s gaze snapped to mine in the mirror and his lips twitched, his smile-not-smile telling.
“Whatever crossed your mind, let me be the first to tell you, is wrong if it involves your brother,” I said and fought the urge to slap my forehead.
Pax’s sparkling white teeth blinded me, and I covered my eyes.
“His brother? Morgan? What are you talking about?” Susan’s side-eye gaze swiveled from Pax to me several times. “What am I missing?”
I turned away from Pax’s roguish stare and focused on the trees and houses on the side of the road. “Nothing,” I replied.
“Ann Marie Tosto, I call bullshit.”
I smirked at my cousin, even though she faced the front.
“Fine. I miss sex.”
Susan laughed as Pax choked. “Sex with someone in particular?” she asked.
“No. Just the act of fornicating in general. It’s a great stress reliever. You should try it sometime.”
Susan reached over and grabbed Pax’s thigh, her lust-filled gaze fanned across his face as she soothed the groove between his eyebrows with a finger. “In that case, I’m the most relaxed person on the planet,” she said. Huskiness deepened her voice.
“Stop talking. Your sex voice is distracting Pax,” I said, glad the attention was off me.
“Don’t drag me into this,” Pax said, even as his eyes crinkled further. He took Susan’s hand in his and kissed her knuckles. He released her and returned his hand to the steering wheel a moment later.
We pulled up to a small yellow craftsman home set behind an array of trees. An ornate arch and awning bathed the front door in shadows. A black cat lounged on a weather-worn wooden rocking chair. The cat eyed the truck for a moment before it lifted its paw and groomed itself with lazy licks.
A massive truck and trailer blocked a set of closed garage doors. A cobblestone path to the left of the house led to a dock. A deck boat floated on the waters of Lake Washington, anchored to one of the wooden posts. A swing facing the water swayed from the rafters of a covered wooden pergola. Five lounge chairs scattered across the rest of the deck. The setup made for an inviting place to relax after a long day. A place to forget the demands of clients and employees. A place to cuddle and fall in love.
I choked on the bitter taste in the back of my throat and muttered under my breath, “You want nothing to do with cuddles and love.”
A booted foot stepped out onto the slate stones. The movement grabbed my attention and pushed away the unexpected and offensive thoughts. I took my time and scanned the man wearing those well-worn boots. My gaze drifted upwards and noted every detail. My mouth watered at the sight of long muscular legs encased in form-fitting jeans, the impressive bulge hidden behind the zipper, and the tight shirt showcasing his lean, muscled torso under a weathered black leather jacket. I stifled my groan as I appreciated the face of an Adonis.
By Susan’s amused giggle, I didn’t hide my admiration well.
Morgan stood tall at six foot two, dark hair still wet from a shower, now cut short, and eyes hidden behind a pair of mirrored glasses. He reminded me of Adam Levine.
He pulled his sunglasses to the top of his head and petted the cat. I imagined those lithe fingers running through my hair. His gaze roamed his property and then the truck. The tinted windows hid me from his view, and I continued my undetected—at least from him—appraisal.
“Close your mouth,” Susan said, and I started at the sound of her voice. “You’re drooling.”
I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth and glared at Susan when my hand came away dry.
Pax’s gaze moved from me to Susan, and with a last glance at Morgan, he turned back and faced the front with a shit-eating grin.
I settled back in my seat and followed Morgan’s approach out of the corner of my eye. I mourned the loss of his eyes as he slipped his glasses back on, and my muscles tightened as he neared.
He opened the door and hesitated. He lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose and surveyed the interior of the truck before his gaze settled on me. I held my posture rigid, made eye contact with his striking blue-gray ones, and quirked a single eyebrow. It took everything I had to keep from squirming under his extended scrutiny, thankful for my perfected boardroom skills.
“You remember my cousin, Ann Marie?” Susan’s question jolted us from our stare-off.
“Yeah,” he replied, voice laced with panty-wetting gruffness.
I nodded and turned away before I did something impulsive, like jump in his lap and declare my unrelenting desire to fuck him.
Dual failed-to-convey indignation huffs rewarded Susan’s snicker, and she muttered, “This ought to be good.”
Chapter Two
Morgan
The tinted windows of Pax’s truck obstructed my view, but as I approached, a silhouette moved within. I figured it was our cousin, Kate, and did not hesitate. I flung the door open and was hit with a familiar sweet smell. My chest and cock reacted on instinct. From scent alone, one embedded in my brain against my will, I identified the final occupant.
Unprepared, I came face-to-face with the woman who stirred my blood like no other. My memory of her luscious figure, red lips, and mischievous eyes played on repeat in my fantasies over the past few months.
Ann Marie Tosto did not fit into my uncomplicated life, but I craved her with a tenacity. A fact I loathed. Her tongue licked her lips as I settled in my seat, and my dick grew harder. I shifted and adjusted my pants.
Her gaze tracked my hand and the corners of my mouth twitched.
“I’m too much for those little hands to handle.” Inappropriate? Yes, but I didn’t care. It was either be an asshole or show vulnerability.
