Damaged (Crystal Brook Billionaires) Read online

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  CONTENTS

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  TITLE PAGE

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  EPILOGUE

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  MORE BY JESSICA BLAKE

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Christmastime in cozy Crystal Brook, North Carolina is for tree trimming and family dinners, not for falling in love. Besides, Gwen Lawrence doesn’t believe in love. Not since her heart was broken a year ago back in New York. She’s yet to recover and finds that love only taunts and teases but never fully delivers. So she keeps herself busy in a whirlwind of lattes and paperbacks via her new business — a hometown bookstore coffee shop — and avoids all chances of love… until Jason Adler arrives in town.

  Jason, a billionaire real estate mogul, once did believe in love — until his wife divorced him out of the blue. No longer believing in a happily ever after, he is content to use women for one night stands and weekend flings. Until he meets his match in the headstrong, deceptively aloof Gwen, who isn’t impressed with what’s in his pocket or his pants. An unusual set of circumstances find them spending Christmas week under the same roof — Gwen’s parent’s house — and the holiday sparks start flying. In the midst of a family holiday, can a Christmas miracle occur? Or will Santa only deliver heartbreak once again?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Gwen

  “How about here? Is this good?”

  Kieran stretched up on her tiptoes, the ladder teetering as she did.

  “Watch it!” I shouted, taking a step forward to hold the base of the ladder. “I can’t afford for you to fall and end up in a coma.”

  My employee only laughed, tossing her head to shake a strand of deep auburn hair out of her eyes. Her arms still outstretched, she held the green and red garland pressed firmly above the shop’s door.

  “It looks great,” I told her.

  “Good. I’m freezing my butt off.”

  “Here.” I handed her two nails and the hammer, then held my breath while she secured the garland. As the owner of Freddy’s, the one and only bookstore slash coffee shop in Crystal Brook, North Carolina, I probably should have been the one on the ladder risking my neck for the sake of the Christmas spirit. I only let Kieran up because she insisted. The girl is like the Energizer Bunny, and if she doesn’t have something to do at all times, she’ll likely explode. Such a personality trait is good for getting stuff done, but it does provide difficulties when it comes to remembering things.

  Basically, just like Kieran has the frenetic energy of a rabbit, she has the memory drive of one too. I swear she would forget her own name if someone didn’t call her by it at least once a day.

  “It looks good,” I repeated, eager for her to finally come down.

  Kieran clambered down onto the sidewalk and took a few steps back. I joined her so we could both survey our handiwork. With garland not only over the door but hanging down the sides, the front of Freddy’s was more festive than I’d ever seen it. And the giant silver bell dangling from the wreath made it perfect.

  At least perfect when it comes to the holidays in Crystal Brook, because, honestly, I couldn’t care one way or the other about getting all jazzed up for this or any holiday. This town though?

  It cared.

  It cared big time.

  Like, it would fill every branch of every tree with lighted, pristine white candles if that wouldn’t be the fire hazard of the century. It would buy, shelter, and feed its own dozen reindeer, keeping them all year long only to break them out for that special month if only the town treasury would approve of that plan.

  I could go on and on, but I think you get the idea.

  For me, Christmas is a great time to sleep in, eat food I wouldn’t allow myself to any other time of the year, and shoot the shit with my aging relatives.

  This year, the holiday was more welcome than it had ever been. November marked the one-year anniversary of my opening Freddy’s. Which means, in a big sense, I made it. Most businesses fail in their first year. If you can only make it over that twelve-month hump without going too much into debt, your chances of persevering in the long run are something like quadrupled.

  Next to me, Kieran wrapped her arms around herself. “Brr. What is this, the North Pole all of a sudden?”

  “Tell me about it. Let’s go inside.”

  We hurried into the little shop, pulling the door shut tight. Outside, the last bit of sun slipped away. Being Sunday, we had closed early. There were more shoppers around the downtown area than there usually were at that time, but I’d decided to stick with regular hours despite the shopping frenzy taking over the world. The holiday season meant we needed even more time to take care of things such as inventory and cleaning — not to mention we also needed more time to catch our breaths.

  I had been at the shop since eight that morning, and Kieran since noon. We’d been so slammed with business, I was sure to have visions of lattes and hot chocolates instead of sugar plums dancing in my head for days afterwards. Not that I had time for dreaming. The espresso machine still needed to be cleaned and the dining area swept and mopped. At the moment, though, I couldn’t do anything but collapse on the red love seat by the window.

  “I’ll get started on the espresso machine,” Kieran said, the words barely intelligible through the large yawn creating a hole in her face.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it.”

  She cocked her head. “Are you sure?”

  “You did the drawer, right?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll get the rest. Go on home. Your boyfriend’s waiting for you, isn’t he?”

  A slight blush swept across her cheeks, making me simultaneously happy and jealous. At twenty-one, Kieran was only six years younger than me, but sometimes it felt as if we were living on separate planets.

  I envied the optimistic way she still approached each day, the starry-eyed look that never seemed to leave her eyes. The way she could just fall headlong into a new experience without being afraid it would blow up in her face just like all the other ones.

  She wasn’t jaded… like me.

  “Yeah, he probably is.” Kieran grinned. “He texted and said he’s making dinner.”

  “That’s so sweet.”

  I hadn’t said anything when she and her boyfriend moved in together after only three months of seeing each other, thinking it wasn’t my place. Even though I didn’t have much belief in rushing a relationship, I held onto a little bit of hope for her. Just because love hadn’t worked out for me didn’t mean it wouldn’t for this sweet girl.

  Going to the hook behind the counter, Kie
ran grabbed her puffy jacket and messenger bag. “See you tomorrow,” she said, zipping the coat all the way up to her chin.

  “Get plenty of rest. I think business will be even crazier tomorrow, what with everyone’s families coming in.”

  Her eyes went wide. “I’m a little scared.”

  I laughed. “That’s good. Fear will keep us on our toes.”

  She giggled and bounced a little. “See ya.”

  “Bye.”

  She hurried out the door, the bell jingling cheerily as it fell closed behind her. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and turned the deadbolt. My feet ached from standing all day and my head still swam from the constant chatter, but I was anything but ready to go home.

  Home was where the loneliness was; where the questions without answers sat, waiting for me. At Freddy’s I had a purpose, always something to do. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t slept on the couch there more times than I could count.

  From the very first day I signed the rental agreement, the shop had become my everything. It was my childhood dream to own a bookstore and coffee shop in one. Growing up in Crystal Brook, I’d had my eye on the old, closed off alleyway for years. When I was in high school, it had been a bar. Then I’d moved away to New York for a few years, and when I came back, a directionless and lost twenty-something, it was empty.

  That’s when I knew. The place was waiting for me. All I had to do was pull those old dreams out of the closet, dust them off, and roll up my sleeves.

  Of course, the entire process proved a little bit more complicated than that, but in the end, I’d done it. I was a business owner. Sitting in my favorite seat by the window, I could survey the entire shop. Although not much in the way of width, it had plenty of length going for it. The coffee bar sat near the front, and across from that were the couch, coffee table, and several plush, cozy chairs. The bookshelves began right after that, their rows cluttered together, piling all the way up to the ceiling. Several more seats were littered throughout the place, providing a few cozy nooks in which to escape with a hot cup of tea and the latest release from a local poet. The original bricks from when the space was an alley were still there, red and worn down, providing walls with almost as much character as the fiction section.

  Sometimes I liked to just sit there and enjoy my handiwork. It had been difficult squeezing so much into such a small space, but I’d done it.

  The bell from the church down the street chimed, signaling it was eight o’clock. I glanced out the window, watching a gaggle of women walk across the street. I’d turned off most of the lights in Freddy’s, leaving only the table lamp on a nearby shelf and the white Christmas lights strung around the front window to cast their gentle glow.

  Rolling my head to try and get the crick out of my neck, I headed behind the bar. The syrup shelf had been wiped down of all stickiness, thanks to Kieran, and I pushed the strawberry and the caramel bottles to the side to get what I was looking for: the little bottle of whiskey hidden in the back, far removed from the eyes of customers.

  Snatching a tiny espresso cup from the top of the drink machine, I filled the glass to the brim with the sweet, amber liquid. The bottle of whiskey was my dirty little secret. I didn’t own a liquor license, so I made sure to hide the bottle in my purse whenever the health inspector was due to come around. Having just gotten a visit from her the month before, I was free to keep my indulgence always nearby.

  I sipped from the espresso cup as I scrubbed the machine down, making sure to get every last coffee ground and splatter of whip cream. A high quality espresso machine can cost as much as a car, and, just like cars, the better you take care of them the longer they’ll last.

  I was just debating what genre of cleaning music to put on the stereo when my cell phone rang. Setting both the bristled brush and the whiskey down, I edged my way over to the hook where my purse hung.

  I dug the phone out, making sure to check the caller ID before answering.

  “Claire,” I whispered to myself, unable to stop the grin.

  My older sister and I would be joined at the hip were it not for the fact that I’d outgrown big city living way before her. It was uncommon for a day to pass without us so much as texting, and with a start, I realized we hadn’t talked all week.

  Bringing the phone up to my face, I took on the most hurt voice I could summon. “I thought you hated me.”

  “Huh?”

  I pouted harder. “I thought you hated me.”

  She sighed, not falling for my game. “Can you come pick me up at the airport?”

  Clearly, she wasn’t in her usual jovial mood. The Claire I knew was typically cracking jokes left and right.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, getting serious too. “Isn’t Dad supposed to pick you up?”

  “He just called and said he forgot about Danny’s play rehearsal.”

  “Ah.” Our little brother, still in high school, fostered dreams of being an actor. “Can’t Mom take Danny? Or pick you up?”

  “I don’t know, Gwen,” she sighed, clearly frustrated. “I guess not. Dad said he tried to call you but couldn’t get in touch.”

  “Hold on.” I pulled the phone away from my face to check the screen. Two missed calls and a text from my dad. Oops. No doubt there was also at least one missed call on the shop phone.

  “Yeah,” I said. “He called. But I was outside decorating the shop.”

  “You’re still at Freddy’s? And you’re just now decorating for the holidays? Shit’s been up since Halloween in New York.”

  “I still have cleaning to do. And yes, I was slow to get on that train. And for good reason. Just putting up all the garland took me half an hour.”

  “I’ll call him back and tell him—”

  “No, it’s okay,” I interrupted her. “I’ll come pick you up, then come back here and finish.”

  “Are you sure? I can help.”

  “Yes, of course I’m sure. Text me your flight info.”

  “We’re already here. We’ll be waiting outside.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah.” The word took her nearly half a minute to complete. “I’m bringing a friend home. Didn’t Mom and Dad tell you?”

  “No. Which friend?”

  “Someone you haven’t met.” Her voice was lower now.

  Realization dawned on me. “Ohhh, you mean a friend friend? One who is perhaps of the man variety?”

  I heard a voice in the background, which was immediately muffled by what I assume was her hand over the mic. “I’ve got to go,” she said after a few seconds, her tone cryptically flat. “See you when you get here.”

  “Okay. I’m leaving now.”

  Hanging up, I snatched my purse and black pea coat from the hook. I hadn’t even gotten halfway through the shot of whiskey, but I was already feeling sleepy from its effects and my long day. Maybe after the airport, I would just go home and sleep and then come into the shop early in the morning to clean before opening.

  The one nice thing about being the boss was you could do such a thing any time you wanted, and there would never be anyone to give you shit about it.

  The fierce wind bit my cheeks, and I burrowed my nose into my scarf as I hurried down the sidewalk. It was fully dark, but the number of shoppers out had only slightly decreased. The novelty stores and restaurants lined up on Main Street throbbed with activity, and a young man busked with his guitar at the corner, singing a surprisingly good pop rendition of Holy Night. I tossed a dollar in his open guitar case and clambered into my car, turning the engine on and rubbing my hands together while I waited for the heat to kick in.

  I’d never been one for winter, and how anyone survived in more than how cold North Carolina got was beyond me. I’d spent three years in New York City with Claire, and each winter had seemed worse than the last.

  But at least the climate provided a good excuse for my leaving the city and returning to my town of birth. The real reason was something I had revealed only to a select few people. T
he real reason was not only embarrassing but still so painful that every time I thought of it, my chest burned with the agony of it.

  The car finally semi-heated and I pulled out into traffic, heading for the Raleigh-Durham airport, nearly an hour away. I knew the way so well I could probably take it with my eyes closed.

  The thought was a dangerous one. Stifling a yawn, I turned right off Main Street and leaned forward in my seat, eager to not get into too comfortable a position and end up falling asleep behind the wheel.

  Traffic was light, and with the help of the blaring radio to give me energy, I made it to the airport in good time. The line of cars waiting to pick up passengers was short, and edging forward into it easy as pie.

  I scanned the small crowd of people, looking for my sister’s blonde hair. A flash of red caught my eye, and I remembered the long cherry colored coat she’d been so fond of the winter before. Sure enough, there was Claire, standing next to her rolling suitcase, her mouth drawn into a tight line.

  I looked all around her but didn’t see any evidence of the friend she’d mentioned. An old couple, the man using a walker, ambled by on her right side, and on her other a group of college kids chatted excitedly.

  “Hm,” I said out loud, pulling the car to a stop. Had her friend run back inside the airport for something?

  Or maybe they already broke up.

  I snorted to myself over the joke. Claire had high standards and was known for quickly going through boyfriends. If someone didn’t meet all her expectations, she had no qualms about letting him go. Unlike her dumbass sister — me.

  Seeing me, Claire grabbed the handle of her suitcase and came forward, a smile spreading across her lips. I waved, the first genuinely good feeling of the day filling me up. It had been over six months since I’d seen my sister. She hadn’t come home for Thanksgiving, claiming her new real estate job was the reason, and I hadn’t been able to get so much as a day to myself since Freddy’s opened.

  I hadn’t even realized how excited I was to have her back home for Christmas. As she hurried towards my car, though, I found the goofy grin impossible to keep away.