Roustabout (The Traveling #3)
Read Roustabout (The Traveling #3) Online
Authors: Jane Harvey-Berrick
Jane Harvey-Berrick
Roustabout
Roustabout
Copyright © 2015 Jane Harvey-Berrick
Jane Harvey-Berrick has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. Jane Harvey-Berrick has asserted her moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 2015
ISBN 9780992924669
Harvey Berrick Publishing
http://www.janeharveyberrick.co.uk
Editing by
Kirsten Olsen and Trina Miciotta
Cover design by
Hang Le /
www.byhangle.com
Cover photograph by
Alex Wightman/
www.alexwightman.com
Cover models, Lily Maverick Wallis & James
Interior design and formatting by
Christine Borgford /
www.perfectlypublishable.com
The Traveling Man (Traveling Series #1)
The Traveling Woman
(Traveling Series #2)
Roustabout (Traveling Series #3)
The Education of Sebastian
(Education Series #1)
The Education of Caroline
(Education Series #2)
The Education of Sebastian and The Education of Caroline
(Education Series combined edition)
Semper Fi: The Education of Caroline (from Sebastian’s POV Education Series #3)
(coming soon)
Slave to the Rhythm (
coming soon
)
One Careful Owner (
coming soon
)
To James
A reluctant cover model who is willing to be bribed to take his shirt off for charity.
And to Lily
For helping him.
James’ model fee was donated to
www.felixfund.org.uk
Spring
Tera
It was my brother’s party, a going-away party, I suppose you could say. But it was more than that: it was a celebration of life and love and living.
Kestrel was my half-brother and had been brought up in a traveling carnival. Our father certainly had some explaining to do when the news broke, not only to his constituents, but also to me since I was unaware that I had not one, but two brothers. This past year of getting to know them had been a revelation in so many ways. I loved my new brothers. My relationship with my father was strained.
Kes’s friends stared at me curiously. They weren’t unfriendly, but it was clear that I wasn’t one of them. I felt prim and proper in my $300 jean skirt and silk top. I clutched the warm beer in my hands and tried to look like I was just chilling out.
My brand new BMW stood out among the rusting trucks, trailers and RVs. I didn’t fit.
If it had been a cocktail party or one of my father’s political fundraisers, I’d have been fine, schmoozing with the best of them. But these people didn’t care about any of the things that I’d been brought up to think were important: the right school, the right job, the right clothes, all the trappings that came with my father’s success.
Just as I was considering making my excuses and driving back to the hotel in Arcata, a man’s laugh rang out, a sound of deep joy echoing through the twilight. I looked across and saw him: his head thrown back, his eyes sparkling, his hands on his hips. He was still smiling when his gaze met mine. I saw his eyes darken with a predatory expression that made me feel as if his gaze alone could strip the clothes from my body.
Tucker McCoy.
I knew who he was—Kes’s brother, not by blood, but certainly in every other sense of the word. A stunt rider, like my brother, and the biggest manwhore walking God’s green earth. His prowess with women was almost as legendary as his prowess on a motorcycle.
He’d been traveling all the times I’d visited Kes and his fiancée Aimee before, but I couldn’t help thinking that even when he had been around they’d decided to keep me away from him. For my own good, no doubt.
That was probably Aimee. I liked her and we’d become close.
Even though we were the same age, she sometimes treated me like a little sister, and honestly, I felt immature when I compared myself to her. All I’d ever been was a student with an allowance and a black American Express card provided by my father. I didn’t even have to take some low paying, part time job while I went to school. But Aimee had a career as an elementary school teacher before falling in love with my brother . . . although the way she tells it, she’d been in love with him since they were children. I think that’s why she’d decided to give up her entire life to travel his road. I couldn’t imagine doing that for a guy. Kes was great and I could see how in love they were, but she’d given up her whole world. Not that she saw it like that.
“Love is in all the small gestures, TC,” she said to me. “But sometimes it all adds up to something bigger. I can’t imagine my life without him—and I don’t want to.”
I envied her—but I pitied her, too.
I straightened up fractionally when Tucker started to approach me, his walk loose-limbed and confident.
“Hey there,” he said, giving me a sexy half-smile as he casually propped a shoulder against the coffeeberry tree where I was slumped in a deckchair. “Tell me why a beautiful woman is sitting all by her lonesome.”
His accent was warm with a touch of Southern that melted like honey on his tongue.
I raised an eyebrow and gave him one of my father’s patented campaign stares, the one he used with reporters who asked dumb questions.
“I’ll take the compliment of being called beautiful,” I said, “but really, is that the best line you have?”
The light of challenge sparked in his eyes and his grin grew wider.
“Not even close to my best,” he said with a cocky edge to his voice. “I thought I’d start off easy.”
“Oh, but I’m not easy,” I replied. “I’m complicated and difficult and it takes a lot of work to impress me.”
