Undefeated - A New Adult Romance Novel (4 page)

I pulled my hand from my pocket and reached under my hoodie toward my chest.

Still there.

We walked out the door and directly to the bike parking, which was right beside the front door.

As I got on my bike, I began to think.

“Dude, you fall asleep?” Mike yelled over the sound of the exhaust.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re in a fog, Dekk. You alright?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I was thinking,” I responded as I grabbed the handlebars.

“About?” he asked.

“Upgrading the insurance on this bike,” I responded.

KACE.
I sat at my desk, waiting for my ten o’clock break. I loved taking my breaks because I could always read without feeling guilty. I had purchased a new Kindle, and had it shipped to my work office so Josh would not know I had it. Trying to keep things from him made me feel like I was cheating, but he forced me to do most of the things I chose to do.

He monitored all of my spending that was on the debit or credit cards, leaving me no real option to use those cards for anything but gas. I told him I ate out for lunch, and he provided me money for that. Most days I would bring something light from home to eat. If I brought too much food, he’d notice and complain, so I brought very little when I did.

I could then place my lunch money in my desk and save it for things I wanted or needed. Once I saved for a new pair of shoes. Recently, I bought the Kindle. I always went to the store and bought a prepaid debit card and used the card for the purchases. That way he never knew what I purchased and there was no record of it. For now I was leaving the Kindle in my desk so he couldn’t take it and smash it.

I preferred romance and erotica. After I finished a really dark erotica, I would always follow it up with a nice romance novel. I read some pretty dark erotica, and I actually like them. I suspect I like them because when I read about all of the crazy twisted dark stuff in those books, it makes my life seem almost normal.

I wish one of my book boyfriends would come and save me from this shit life I live. Sometimes I think I actually fall in love with the characters in the books, and hate for the book, series, or story to end. I find myself reading slower as I get toward the end because I don’t want the book to end. Often I daydream about the characters in the book, and what life would be like to have them instead of Josh.

I remember the day when Josh stomped my Kindle at the Red Box. The man in the hoodie with the strange blue eyes – I think about him being a book boyfriend
. I wish he would have saved me. I liked the way he walked. Austin is a huge city and I know I will never see him again, but I wish I could. I regret not saying something to him when he asked. He almost begged me to say something. And he called Josh an asshole twice. I liked that. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him thank you.

I looked at my watch and realized it was 10:15 already. I spent most of my break daydreaming about the guy in the hoodie and not reading. Either way, it’s a means for me to escape. Josh tells me no other man would ever want me and I am sure that he is right. I put my Kindle back into my purse and walked to my desk.

“Kace, did the Valentine Group call or send you an email?” Mr. Martin asked as I sat down at my desk.

“Yes, they emailed and called both. I put together a spreadsheet, based on last year’s totals, and incorporated the anticipated increases for this year’s production costs, and made columns of each. Projected profits are on the far right. I emailed it to you,” I smiled.

“Kace, you amaze me. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he slapped the desk and turned toward his office.

I liked it when Mr. Martin told me nice things, and he never hesitated to do so.
He made me feel like I was not such a worthless person. He promoted me every few years, and gave me a big raise and a new title, but my work was always the same. My new title was Executive Secretary. I was the
only
secretary, but I liked the title.

Mr. Martin was in his early sixties
and married. His wife came in from time to time, and she was beautiful. I would like to look like her when I am sixty. I always tell myself that she looks so good because she is confident. Her hair, clothes, and nails are always perfect.

I know I am not supposed to be envious of anyone, but I envy her.

She has a nice husband, nice kids, a nice car, and a nice home. Her life couldn’t get any better. I would settle to live in a shack with someone as long as they treated me nice. I always thought Josh and I would get married and have children, but it never happened. Most of the time I was glad we never had kids.

I turned the music up on my computer.
As
Jaymay’s Grey or Blue
played, I slumped into my seat. I closed my eyes and relaxed to the music as it played. Getting lost in music is like getting lost in a book. I listened to the music, glad that the Valentine Group had already called.

“
Grey or Blue
, great song,” a voice said from in front of my desk.

I opened my eyes.

Holyfuckingshit.

I peed a little bit and jumped forward so quick
ly I knocked over my bottle of water.

It was
him.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, were you asleep?” he asked softly.

“No. No. Sleeping not. Sleeping. Music. Listening. I was listening to music,” I stammered.

Are you fucking kidding? I really don’t want to stutter right now.

When I got excitedly nervous sometimes the words will come out of my mouth and they are not necessarily always in order. I think my mind works at some weird pace, and often it gets things jumbled up. I try to think before I speak, but the words just fall out sometimes. And they always fall out in whatever order they want to.

It never happened when I was scared, just when I was really nervous and excited at the same time. It used to happen when I was a little girl on Christmas morning. Sometimes it would happen on my birthday when I was young. When I first met Josh it would happen, because I used to be
really excited to see him.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

As he spoke, he pulled his hood over his head. He was wearing the same black hoodie he had on at the Red Box when I saw him three or four months ago. It seemed odd he was wearing a hoodie now, because it was over a hundred degrees outside.

“Nervous,” I said.

Thank God. Only one fell out.

He rubbed the hood o
nto the sides of his face, concealing most of his features. It was unzipped, and he wore a ribbed tank top underneath. From what I could see, he was built like an athlete. I admired his eyes, stared at his body, and tried not to speak.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you or make you nervous. Do you remember me?”

My head bobbed up and down like one of those little dogs in the back window of some old person’s car. Nervously, I rubbed the wrinkles from my skirt. Perspiration formed on my palms like cold can of beer on a hot Austin day.

Kace, you look like an idiot, say something.

“Eyes, grey. Grey. Like your eyes. Your eyes,” I took a breath, raised my eyebrows and pointed at my mouth as I pursed my lips.

I took another deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“I’m nervous too, if it helps,” he said as he leaned onto the upper portion of my reception station.

I raised my eyebrows and kept my mouth closed.

“I am. You can kind of tell when I’m nervous or I don’t want to talk about something. I pull the hood over my head. My name is Shane. Shane Dekkar,” he said as he pulled the hood from his face.

Holy book fucking boyfriend.
This guy is perfect.

I grabbed a sticky note and scribbled on it with my pen.

When I get nervous or really excited the words don’t come out in order. It’s embarrassing. I’m sorry.

I handed him the note.

He looked down, read it, and smiled as he looked back up. He turned the note over face down, reached down onto my lower desk, and grabbed a pen from my jar of pens. He scribbled on the back side of the note and handed it to me.

When I get nervous I hide under my hood. What’s your name?

I set the note aside and grabbed a new one. I wrote on it and handed it back to him.

My name is spelled Kace. It’s pronounced Casey, but spelled weird. My friends call me Kace without the “Y” pronounced. I go by either. I like your eyes.

He read the note, turned it over, and chuckled. He looked up at the ceiling as if he were thinking, and then wrote on the back side of the note. As he handed it to me, he stared into my eyes. I reached for the note and smiled as he released it to me.

I have so much to say I would like one of the big sheets from your legal pad on your left. For now, I will say this.

I like your face. You’re beautiful. And, if you ever get confused and can’t talk, tap your hand once for yes, and twice for no.

I may have peed a little bit more when I read the note. This was so exciting.

I ripped a sheet from the legal pad and handed it to him. The anticipation of what he might write on the sheet was killing me. Hopefully he would write a lot of things on the sheet. I pushed the two yellow sticky notes aside and set my water bottle back upright. I looked up at him as he thought and wrote slowly. He folded the sheet in half and handed it to me.

I unfolded it and was pleased to see that he
had filled almost the entire page with hand written questions. His penmanship was perfect.

Kace,

I’m Shane Dekkar. We met at the drug store parking lot. I walked by here a month or so ago and noticed you for a second time. Your hair was really shiny. I think everything happens for a reason. I feel that I really need to find out who you are. I found it increasingly difficult to know you were here and not come see you, so I came in today to see my insurance agent and say hello to you. I have some questions. Here they are.

Was that guy
at the drugstore your boyfriend?

Is he violent toward you, or were you really just in a little argument?

Are you single?

Available?

Do you like turkey sandwiches?

Have you eaten lunch?

Would you like to go to lunch?

Are you a runner?

I read what he wrote and read it again.
Your hair was really shiny.
Could this guy be any cuter than this?

I looked up at him and started to
write a response beside the questions he had written. I thought carefully as I wrote.

Was that guy at the drugstore your boyfriend?
Yes, but I want to find a way out.

I read the next question and struggled with what I should write. I considered writing several things, but opted for a one word answer.

Is he violent toward you, or were you really just in a little argument?
Argument.

Are you single?
See above.

Available?
I think maybe.

Do you like turkey sandwiches?
Haha. Love them.

Have you eaten lunch?
No.

Would you like to go to lunch?
I think Yes.

Are you a runner?
Yes, I am.

I looked at my watch. It was 10:45 already. I scribbl
ed my own note onto the bottom of the sheet.

This was fun.

I get off for lunch at 11:30 and can be gone for an hour. There’s a diner across the street t
hat has good turkey sandwiches. You can meet me there. Do you always wear a hoodie? It’s hot outside. I’m not as nervous now, but still kind of.

You make my palms sweaty.

I read what I wrote, smiled, and handed it back to him.

He read the note, folded it and stuck it in his back pocket. He reached back and pulled the
hood over his head and smiled. As he placed his forearms onto the upper countertop, he leaned forward slowly, getting closer to my face.

His eyes commanded my attention.

“I’ll see you at eleven thirty. I’m glad I make your hands sweaty. I always wear a hoodie. Well, almost always. You don’t need to respond if you’re still nervous,” he whispered.

Almost unknowingly, I found myself leaning closer to him as he spoke. His breath smelled sweet.

“Turkey,” I blurted.

Are you fucking kidding me?
Turkey? That’s all you can come up with?

I rolled my eyes and pointed to my mouth.

“Turkey,” his sweet breath whispered.

He leaned a little closer. I leaned toward him a little more.

“Get your little sticky note pad and get a new note, Kace. Write this on it. I’m coming, Kace.
I’m coming for your heart
,”

As he turned and walked away, I stood up and turned to face him.

And I melted a little.

Good lord
.

W
ow.

I could just wat
ch him walk forever.