Faster We Burn (37 page)
She turned on her side to face me, smiling.
“Okay. Give it to me.”
“Geez, demanding much?” I bit her shoulder as I got up and fished in my bag. I’d pre-wrapped her presents in paper I’d drawn on myself.
“Stryker. It’s so pretty.” I’d duplicated a lot of the drawings I’d made on her body. “I almost don’t want to unwrap it. Almost.”
I sat down beside her and tried not to freak out as she slowly unpeeled the wrapping from her present.
“Oh, Stryker.” She revealed a wooden box that I’d painted on. Then she turned it and saw what the painting was. “Oh my God.”
“I may or may not have stolen that picture from your house last time I was here.”
I’d painted a picture of her father on the top of the box, from a photograph that I’d commandeered from an album last time I was at her house. I had the feeling I’d need it at some point, even if it was just to give to her. Mr. Hallman sat on the recliner and smiled, waving at the camera. It must have been taken quite a few years ago, because his hair was definitely darker than when I’d met him.
She opened the velvet-lined box and brushed the inside.
“I thought you could use something better than a Ziploc bag. And you can close it and carry it around with you. See?” I pointed to the little lock on the front of it.
“This is…this is one of the sweetest and most creepy things anyone has ever done for me.”
“Is it more on the sweet side or more on the creepy side?” I was hoping for the former.
“It’s a little bit of both, but I absolutely love it. Thank you so much.” She reached for her purse and took out the bag of ashes that she always carried with her, putting them in the box and locking it shut. She smiled down at the portrait on the front.
“Now he’s with me all the time.”
I put my arm around her.
“Exactly.” I wiped a tear from her cheek. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Katie
After Kayla’s announcement and Stryker’s present, things were sort of uneventful. Mom had flipped the nice switch and treated Stryker like he was a member of the family. She even asked about him and they had an entire civilized conversation, which was crazy.
“I think she likes you,” I said that night as we lay in bed. Mom had given me a look when I’d said we were going to bed, but she hadn’t said anything as Stryker followed me.
“Well, that’s a nice step up from loathing me, so I’ll take it.” He was busy drawing on my arm.
“So you gave me a present, so I’m going to give you one.” He’d been pretty sneaky with his, but I was pretty sure he had no idea about mine.
“It doesn’t involve you getting naked, does it?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Uh, no. That’s not a present. That’s a normal night.”
“It’s a gift, as far as I’m concerned.”
I rolled my eyes and went to get my bag.
“So the wrapping isn’t as pretty as yours, seeing as how I can’t make my own, but it’s the thought that counts, right?” I’d found wrapping paper online that was covered in musical instruments, and I’d used it for all his presents.
I wanted to just tear the paper off for him, but I let him slowly unwrap it until he got down to the box. He popped it open and took out the card inside, reading it slowly.
“It’s a gift certificate for the art supply place. It’s not a box for your parents’ ashes with their faces painted on it, but I thought you could get some really good supplies and—”
He looked up from the card and stopped my flow of words with a kiss.
“I love it, and I love you. So, so much. It’s perfect.”
“I love you too, best friend. There’s another little something under that card.” He pulled out the second part of that gift. It was one of those hokey charms that was half of the heart, and it said ‘Best’ on it.
“I’ve got the other one,” I said, pulling the chain out from under my shirt, showing him the other half that said, ‘Friend’. I was surprised he hadn’t noticed it yet. “You don’t have to wear it as a necklace or anything, if that’s emasculating.”
He pulled it out and slipped it around his neck.
“My best friend gave me this. Just try and take it off me.” He held onto it, daring me.
“Never,” I said, shaking my head.
Thanks go, firstly, to my family for not thinking I was crazy to quit my job to write full time and for always thinking that I’m way cooler and more talented than I actually am and for listening to me ramble on about the publishing industry during Christmas.
Second, to my besties, Caroline, Colleen, Liz and Rachel, you are the cheeses to my macaroni. I love all your faces.
Third, to my editor, Jen, who SOMEHOW found the time to do an amazing job, even with her brand new baby.
Fourth, to my beta, Laura, my soul twin. There are no words for how I creepy love you.
Fifth, to my online community, including Magan Vernon and the rest of the Indelible ladies. You make me feel like I’m not alone, and that means more than I can say.
Sixth, to all the book bloggers who have or ever will support me. You are aca-mazing and supportive and I am not worthy of you.
Seventh, to all my readers (it sounds pretentious to call you fans), YOU are the reason I can do what I do. I wish I could invite all of you over to my house and feed you cookies baked with love and too much chocolate. YOU ARE ALL MY BESTEST FRIENDS.
About the author:
Chelsea M. Cameron is a YA/NA New York Times/USA Today Best Selling author from Maine. Lover of things random and ridiculous, Jane Austen/Charlotte and Emily Bronte Fangirl, red velvet cake enthusiast, obsessive tea drinker, vegetarian, former cheerleader and world’s worst video gamer. When not writing, she enjoys watching infomercials, singing in the car and tweeting. She has a degree in journalism from the University of Maine, Orono that she promptly abandoned to write about the people in her own head. More often than not, these people turn out to be just as weird as she is.
Other books by Chelsea M. Cameron:
Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles, Book One)
Nightmare (The Noctalis Chronicles, Book Two)
Neither (The Noctalis Chronicles, Book Three)
Whisper (The Whisper Trilogy, Book One)
Deeper We Fall (Fall and Rise, Book One)
My Favorite Mistake (Available from Harlequin)
Find Chelsea online:
Twitter:
@chel_c_cam
Facebook:
Chelsea M. Cameron (Official Author Page
)
Faster We Burn (Fall and Rise, Book Two) is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2013 Chelsea M. Cameron
Cover by Sarah Hansen at
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No Attachments
, a New Adult Contemporary Romance, from Tiffany King.
Available on
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www.authortiffanyjking.blogspot.com
Cover created by
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Edited by Hollie Westring
All rights reserved. Published by A.T. Publishing LLC
Copyright © 2013 by Tiffany King
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1: Why lightweights shouldn’t drink
Ashton
“Come on, go,” my friend, Tressa said, trying to push me out of my chair. “What good is a bucket list if you’re too chicken to do any of it?”
“Zip it,” I said out of the corner of my mouth as I apprehensively eyed the situation in front of me. It seemed like a good idea on paper, but actually committing to it suddenly made me nauseous. I took a long pull from my beer, hoping that would help calm my nerves. “God, that’s disgusting.” I grimaced as the foul liquid poured down my throat. “I don’t know how people drink this crap,” I complained, slamming the bottle back down on the table a little harder than I should have.
“You’re stalling, Ash. Besides, this was your idea. Pick up a random stranger and bang his socks off,” Tressa quipped. “You need to seize the opportunity before someone else does, otherwise you’ll be SOL, and your only choice will be Old Man Jones over there,” she added, making our friend Brittni snort loudly.
“Shush,” I said, elbowing her in the gut. Tressa had one volume level—loud. Her words traveled from our table to the many other patrons throughout the only bar in this sleepy little town. Joe’s was the hotspot here in Woodfalls, and Friday was your only good chance to meet someone if you were single and on the prowl because Saturday was family karaoke night.
“Ow, bitch,” Tressa said, rubbing her stomach. “It’s not like the grumpy old fart can hear us anyway,” she said loudly in his direction.
“Gahhhh, shush, Tressa. He’s going to hear you,” I said, sliding back down in my seat.
“Chillax, drama queen. He doesn’t even have his hearing aid in. Watch,” she said, shooting me a mischievous grin. “Hey, Mr. Jones, I really want to blow you,” she said loudly.
She managed to get the attention of about a dozen guys with that one, including Mr. Jones, who whirled around, studying us with his beady black eyes. His grey bushy eyebrows came together in a unibrow that looked like a giant caterpillar on his forehead.
Brittni snorted again as she shook with laughter. I squirmed uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, fighting the urge to point at Tressa like we were in kindergarten and had gotten busted for throwing spitballs or something.
Tressa returned his stare head-on, smiling sardonically until he turned back around.
“Sheesh, girl, you’re lucky he didn’t take you up your offer,” I said, stifling my own laughter.
“Hey, you never know what he’s sportin’ in those dusty old overalls.” Tressa winked.
“Gross,” I shrieked.
Tressa just shrugged, unconcerned. I couldn’t help admiring her self-assuredness. She didn’t care what people thought about her. She was loud and seriously inappropriate, but hilarious as hell, despite the tight leash her boyfriend tried to keep her on. We’d only been friends for four months, but I had grown quite fond of her in the short period of time. Both she and Brittni had welcomed me into their friendship circle without a second thought. They acted like I belonged. Not because they felt sorry for me or pitied me like everyone else had done for so many years, but because they genuinely seemed to like me. Brittni wasn’t as flamboyant or inappropriate as Tressa, but she had a wickedly dry sense of humor that kept people on their toes. And then there was me. I wasn’t completely sure what I brought to the group, but that’s why I was here. Somewhere over the last five years, I’d forgotten who I really was.
“Alright, time to stop stalling. Get off your ass and pick up that tall, dark, he-can-have-my-panties-any-day seximist,” Tressa said pointedly, looking at the stranger we’d been eyeing for the last fifteen minutes.
“Maybe I should do something else on my list,” I said, pulling a rumpled slip of paper out of my bag while desperately trying to ignore the butterflies that had suddenly decided to hang out in my stomach. I gently smoothed out the creases as I contemplated the items scrawled on the paper.
“You’re kidding, right? This town has a population of like negative ten, and he’s the hottest thing to walk in here in forever. When are you going to have the opportunity to have one night of hot wild sex with a stranger like that again?”
“That’s my point. Don’t you find it a little weird that we don’t know this guy? This town is pretty much off the beaten path. He could be some mass murder. How do you know he wouldn’t put my head in his freezer or something?”
“Sweetheart, after a night with him, you’ll want a freezer to cool you off,” Tressa said, eyeing him with open admiration. “Besides, if you don’t make your move, I’m totally claiming him,” she added, adjusting her shirt so the tops of her ample breasts peaked out from the thin camisole she was wearing under her button-up see-through shirt.
“So, you wouldn’t mind that you don’t know him and that he could very well chop up your body into a million pieces? Not to mention what Jackson would say if he found out,” I said, reminding her of her boyfriend.
