Stand Alone (Curvy Cafe Book Club 3) Read online

  Stand-Alone

  Curvy Cafe Book Club: Book 3

  Flora Madison

  Copyright © 2022 by Flora Madison

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Geeky Girl Author Services

  Cover Design by Cormar Covers

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  What to Read Next…

  Chapter One

  Willow

  Why must work interfere with reading? I let out a long sigh and gaze down at my book, poking out from inside my purse. I can almost smell the pages from here, but because it’s only my first week at this new temp job at McMahon Construction, I’m hesitant to grab it.

  The time on my laptop reads two o’clock, which means I have three more hours of pretty much nothing to do except answer the phone—and it hasn’t rung since lunch. My teeth gnash into my bottom lip, scraping off whatever remains of my chapstick. It’s not like the head honcho’s ever here. The only people I see are the guys on the job, and even then, they rarely come inside.

  So what the heck are you waiting for?

  Rules. They’re not meant to be broken. You can take the girl out of Catholic school…

  “Screw it,” I mutter to myself. It’s not like I won’t do my job because I’m caught up in a psychological thriller about a woman who may or may not be married to a psychopath. Spoiler Alert: She is.

  Butterflies dance in my stomach as I reach into my purse and snatch up my novel. My shoulders shimmy as I crack it open and reach for my water bottle, but when I bring the metal cylinder to my lips, it’s empty. If it’s not one thing…

  Not wanting to lose another minute of reading time, I bound from my chair, nose in my book, and head toward the water cooler in the back of the double-wide. One-handed, I fill my bottle. I’m smack dab in the middle of the book, and things are starting to pick up.

  Metal grinds in the distance, various materials being soldered together for the new high-rise condos being built right outside my door. Funny how after a few days here it’s become white noise, almost comforting.

  No one here needs me, not really. I’m just a liaison, the point person in case there are discrepancies between higher-ups and workers, and contractors. A paper pusher. It’s an easy gig for a natural middle-woman type like me.

  I take a long swig of water and head back to my desk, my attention fully focused on my book. The narrow hallway makes it easy to simultaneously walk while I read.

  I waited by the window that night for my husband to come home. Hours passed, and then just after midnight, there was a loud bang on my front door.

  The front door of the trailer flies open. A strong wind catches its weight. It slams into the door behind it, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. The book fumbles out of my grip, landing with a smack near my feet. My hand flies to my chest in an attempt to steady my racing heart.

  Backlit by the sun, the hulking figure in the doorway appears only in shadow. A chill runs through me, and I’m not sure if it’s timing or the sheer size of the man who’s just busted into the trailer that’s caused the reaction. Either way, it’s not an unwelcome feeling.

  The man steps inside and closes the rogue door behind him. “Sorry about that,” he says in a low, gravelly voice before removing his hardhat and running a hand through his thick mane of dark chestnut brown hair. “The wind really picked up.”

  I pride myself as a woman of words, but at this moment, gazing into his amber eyes, I’m rendered speechless. His gaze paralyzes me, instantly dousing my panties in hot wetness.

  “Shit,” he mutters, and moves toward me. His heavy gait seems to shake the entire trailer. His t-shirt clings to him like a second skin, slightly damp from working outside. I catch his scent as he bends in front of me, retrieving my book. Something feral and masculine lurks beneath his Irish soap.

  He stands, towering above me. I cower slightly at his size, and my mind’s eye fills with images of him ripping my blouse open and taking me right here and now with his strong, work-worn hands. “Thank you.” I manage to say.

  My eyes land on his faded jeans, hanging perfectly on his hips. But it’s his massive, barrel chest that I keep returning to. How? How is it possible for one man to be this gigantic?

  Fuck. Me.

  “I’m Atlas.”

  A nervous giggle escapes my mouth, thinking this must be a joke. No one’s named Atlas, especially not a man who looks like this—like the Atlas. It’s too on the nose. But when he doesn’t smile back, I realize he’s dead serious.

  I clear my throat. “Willow.” My soft voice sounds like a child’s compared to his deep, bellowing tone.

  “Nice to meet you Willow.” He holds my book out, and a beat passes before I can muster any movement. I inhale sharply when our fingers brush as I take it from him.

  “And you, Atlas.” I lower my chin, batting my eyes at him like a schoolgirl…until I remember that he’s here, in this trailer, for something other than me. “What can I help you with?”

  He rests his thick hands on his hips. “I’m the site foreman, and we had a little accident out front.”

  “Oh no.” My fingers rush to cover my lips.

  “Nothing bad.” His comforting tone immediately soothes me. “But it’s protocol that I have to fill out an accident form.”

  “I see,” I say, nodding my head. It’s only after standing there in silence that I realize he needs me to get it for him. “Right!” I shake off the heat rising to my cheeks. “They’re at the desk.”

  I clasp my hands together and move toward the desk, begging my legs to work normally. He has to know I’m a pool of goo just looking at him. He’s probably used to it, another day for tall, dark, and fuck-able Atlas. I dig in the top drawer and pull out the form, then take a deep breath before handing it over to him.

  Atlas’ warm eyes are locked into mine. A tiny smile plays at the corner of his lips. “Thanks, Willow.”

  No one’s ever said my name like that before, making it sound like a song. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  “That I do.” His eyes bounce up and down my body, and again I imagine him manhandling me like a needy caveman. “See you around.”

  “Have a good day.” I feel like an idiot as soon as it comes out of my mouth.

  Atlas turns in the doorway. “Thanks to you it just got a whole lot better.”

  When he leaves, I collapse into my chair. I thought nothing could distract me from a good book, but Atlas just single handedly proved me wrong.

  Chapter Two

  Atlas

  I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around what just happened. The last thing I expected to see when I walked into the makeshift office was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her long strawberry blonde hair hung over one shoulder, and even behind her glasses, her warm, hazel green eyes shone like the sun. And don’t even get me started on her body. The way her plaid skirt and silky blouse clung to her curves just perfectly, it was like she was put together by the angels themselves. My chest aches thinking about it.

  Haziness wraps itself around my head as I head back to the site. For a moment, I couldn’t remember if I’d actually grabbed what I’d gone in there after. The sound of crinkling paper in my left hand grounds me. Seriously, that w
oman’s got me all out of sorts.

  “Atlas!” My buddy, Jagger, calls. He holds up his finger. “I already jammed it back into place.”

  “Still have to write a report for it, Jag.”

  “That makes me look like a pussy.” Jagger pulls off his hardhat and meets me halfway. “Seriously, it’s not like it got cut off. It’s just disjointed.”

  I slap the accident report against his chest. “The name of the game is Cover Your Ass. You don’t want to be financially responsible if it leads to other problems. Trust me.”

  “Fine.” Jagger takes the paper, and I follow him over to my truck, then throw open the door and dig into the glove box for a buried pen. It’s under a pile of paperwork, but I knew there was one in there. I should’ve asked Willow for one, but my brain wasn’t working. Jagger reaches for the pen but changes his mind last minute.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I’ve known you for a long time, my friend.”

  “And?”

  “You look funny right now.”

  “You’re no prize either, buddy.”

  A sly smile slides across his face. “Not what I meant.”

  Jesus, is it that obvious that Cupid may have snuck out from behind the site trailer and drove an arrow straight through my chest? “Just fill out the damn report.”

  “Fine.” My friend shakes his head then snatches the pen from my hand. “But I know something’s up.”

  “You don’t know dick.” I shove my hardhat back on and head toward the construction site, blatantly ignoring Jagger’s razzing comments as I go.

  I love the guy. He means well, but he’s also a pain in my ass. We’ve been friends since middle school, and as much as I hate to admit it, he knows me well. That includes what type of woman I go for, and that type never seems to work out well for me.

  Call it opposites attract, but smart women turn me on like nothing else. Yeah, Willow’s drop-dead gorgeous with the kinds of curves I’d spend all night exploring until she practically begs me to stop, but it was seeing her with a book in her hand that really got me; my cock swells just thinking about it.

  But truth be told, women like that don’t go for men like me. Hell, I didn’t even go to college. Instead, I knew there was a future and more money for someone like me—who likes to be outside, working with their hands, turning nothing into something—in a job like construction. I’ve worked my way up to foreman, and yeah, that takes a little bit of smarts. But street smarts aren’t the same as book smarts, and if the past is our greatest teacher, my love lesson is this: I always fall short in the brains department when it comes to women like Willow. It’s happened time and again.

  The day flies as the crew continues working until the proverbial whistle blows. I enjoy getting lost in the moment, creating something that someday I will pass by and think, “yeah, I helped make that.”

  I’m back at my truck by the time the sun sets. I’m about to hop into my truck when I see Willow leaving the trailer. My heart leaps into my throat.

  The warm afternoon light accentuates the golden highlights in her hair, now pulled into a clip at the back of her head. She doesn’t see me, but this is a good thing. I unabashedly stare her down as she heads to her car. Her hips sway from side to side, showing off that gorgeous round ass of hers. I mentally undress her, watching her full breasts bounce with each step, imagining how soft her skin would be beneath my rugged palms.

  An overwhelming desire punches my gut. Yeah, I’ve been burned before, felt like a fool because I’m not the smartest guy on the block, but I can’t let this one go. I’m going to have to put myself out there with Willow. Even if I can’t tell her how she makes me feel, I’m damn sure going to show her.

  Willow drives off in her little blue car, leaving behind a trail of dust. I don’t realize my fists are clenched until I start my engine. I need to get a grip, but this woman’s already got me pent-up, thinking of all the things I want to do to her. On the surface, our interaction was pretty standard, but it was nothing but heat and desire underneath.

  There’s no way that woman will ever belong to anyone but me. Willow was meant to be mine, and I’m not afraid to show her. I just hope she knows that once I’ve had a taste of her, there’s no turning back. Willow will be mine forever, whether she likes it or not.

  But she will. Oh yeah, she will.

  Chapter Three

  Willow

  I’m on my second glass of wine and I still haven’t struck up the nerve to tell the book club ladies about my massive crush on Atlas. I don’t know why I’m so hesitant to tell them. Fear of rejection, maybe? Or maybe it’s knowing how they’ll react, making me take action whether I like it or not.

  “I so didn’t see the husband being a psychopath.” Lizzie delicately unwraps a cupcake, then sets the wrapper on the coffee table.

  “I did,” I say. “All of the signs were there.”

  “You always guess the ending. You’re like a human chess piece.” My sister, Audrey, twists her red hair into a knot at the base of her neck.

  “I have to say, I didn’t care either way who did it. I thought the book was dull as hell.” Charlotte rolls her light blue eyes.

  “What?” Audrey nearly pops out of her seat. “I slept with the lights on.”

  “That’s a bit dramatic, babe.” Lizzie licks the icing from her finger.

  “I’m sorry, have we met?” Audrey presses a hand against her chest. “Drama’s my middle name.”

  We all share a laugh. Audrey knows who she is and isn’t afraid to stake claim to it. It’s one of the things I love so much about my sister. For as loud and outspoken as she is, I’m the exact opposite. If it were her with the gigantic crush on Atlas, she would’ve already found a way to accidentally run into him. He really is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on and built like a modern-day Thor. Truly, I had no idea that men like him actually existed in the real world and not in some sports arena or on the big screen.

  “Hey!” Audrey’s voice snaps my head in her direction. “Earth to Willow.”

  “What?” All eyes are on me. “What did I miss?”

  “It’s your pick,” Charlotte says, narrowing her eyes at me. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing.” The sofa creaks beneath me as I shift my weight.

  “Liar!” Audrey’s finger comes flying into my face. I gently wrap my hand around it and lower it.

  “I’m just a little tired from the new job,” I lie.

  “Is it weird going to a construction site every day?” Lizzie asks. “All that noise?” She’s so accustomed to working on a peaceful little farm I bet the noise would actually cause her to hyperventilate. The only thing altering my breathing is Atlas.

  “You get used to it.” I twist my lips to the side. “But there is this…guy,” I say.

  “What?” All three women shift their bodies toward me, and I know I have to let it all out. In fact, it feels good. I tell them all about our brief, yet life-altering encounter. After I’m finished I realize how strange it all sounds. “Do I sound like a total idiot?”

  “Oh my God, no!” Charlotte says.

  “Nope.” Lizzie shakes her head.

  “Uh-uh,” Audrey adds. “But, he doesn’t sound like your usual type.” My face falls, but Audrey is quick to recover. “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “What’s your usual type?” Charlotte asks.

  “I don’t know.” I think about all of the guys I’ve dated and they all seem different to me, but one thing sticks out as the common denominator. “Smart, I guess.”

  Audrey scoffs. “Understatement. She literally dated a rocket scientist. A fucking rocket scientist.”

  “Who was horrible in bed.” Lizzie murmurs before taking a long sip of wine.

  “Sounds like a great opportunity to shake things up.” Charlotte raises her glass.

  “You’re right. It’s not like I don’t want to talk to him or…do other things with him.” Heat rushes to my cheeks just thinking of traili
ng my fingers along the grooves of Atlas’ sinewy arms. “But what if he thinks I’m…dull.”

  “Dull? Why the hell would he think that?” Lizzie asks.

  “Because I kind of am.” I shrug. The women all interject at once with cries of disagreement. “Okay, okay, fine. But it’s not like I’m Miss Party Girl, and I’m certainly not…” I can’t help but glance down at my waistline. “As fit as Atlas.”

  “Girl, you are beautiful.” Audrey tugs on my hair. “So stop talking shit about my sister and go get this man already.” Charlotte and Lizzie agree, raising their glasses.

  The encouragement oozing from these three amazing women is enough to put tears in my eyes. I can’t believe I thought I could go without telling them what was going on or that I’d even want to keep it to myself. Maybe it’s my second glass of liquid courage talking, but they’re right. I can’t just sit around and wait for life to happen to me. Atlas and I had a moment, and I’m certain he felt it too. But there’s only one way to find out for sure, and that involves taking a big risk, opening myself up to the idea that I’m good enough for a guy like him.

  “I mean, his fucking name is Atlas.” Lizzie slaps her thigh. “You know he’s gotta be amazing in bed.”

  “If he can hold the world on his shoulders, imagine what he’ll do with your thighs!” Audrey wags her brows.

  “Ew!” I scream but end up erupting in a fit of giggles. We all do.

  “We’re going to want details, lady.” Charlotte pours herself another glass, and I can’t help but imagine Atlas’ face between my legs. It sends a near painful pang of desire straight to my core.

  “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” I tease. “But lucky for you heathens, I’m no lady.” I raise my glass, and the ladies cheer. For the first time since I met Atlas, I let the tension leave my lungs as I exhale. The worst-case scenario is that he rejects me, and life will go on. Besides, it’s only a temp job; I won’t be there forever.