Kiss Me Now Read online

  Kiss Me Now

  Penny Wylder

  Contents

  More Must Reads by Penny Wylder

  1. Cassidy

  2. Cassidy

  3. Cassidy

  4. Cassidy

  5. Cassidy

  6. Cassidy

  7. Cassidy

  8. Cassidy

  9. Cassidy

  10. Cassidy

  11. Cassidy

  12. Cassidy

  13. Cassidy

  14. Cassidy

  15. Cassidy

  16. Cassidy

  17. Cassidy

  18. Cassidy

  19. Cassidy

  20. Cassidy

  21. Lark

  22. Cassidy

  23. Lark

  24. Cassidy

  25. Cassidy

  26. Lark

  27. Lark

  28. Cassidy

  29. Lark

  30. Lark

  31. Cassidy

  32. Cassidy

  33. Lark

  34. Cassidy

  35. Cassidy

  More Must Reads by Penny Wylder

  Copyright © 2021 Penny Wylder

  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 without prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.

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  1

  Cassidy

  Tomorrow, my whole life is going to change.

  I know, I know, money can’t buy happiness, etc. But it can go a long way toward getting you comfortable, at least. And that’s something I haven’t felt in a long time. Definitely not when I was growing up with my mother, living from skimpy paycheck to paycheck, or off of the various men she was hooking up with, whenever she was completely out of work.

  Then came Norman, and God knows, that was an even worse situation.

  Don’t think about him right now, I remind myself forcefully as I climb out of the taxi. Tonight is supposed to be my big night of freedom. A night to celebrate everything I’ve achieved—all on my own. The last thing I need to be reminiscing about is that asshole, and everything he put me through.

  I shrug off my coat as I reach the front of the club line. My friend Becky’s already standing there chatting with the bouncer, and to judge by the sparkle in both of their eyes, I have a feeling that we’re going to be let straight inside. And that Becky will spend most of the night wanting to come straight back out for a smoke again, so she can keep this flirt on.

  “Hey,” I greet her with a kiss on the cheek as I reach her.

  “Cassidy! This is Marco.” Becky gestures from me to the bouncer and back, then squeezes my arm. “This is my friend I was telling you about. She’s going to be the next Coco Chanel, I swear.” Becky gestures at my face. “See? Doesn’t she look flawless?”

  Marco smiles politely. “Beck says you created your own makeup line. That’s awesome.”

  Beck. I side-eye her with a raised eyebrow, and Becky laughs at my expression.

  “Marco and I were just chatting while we waited for you,” she says, but it’s in a tone I recognize well. We haven’t known one another since our college days for nothing. “Come on, tonight is your night.” She loops her arm through mine. “Let’s celebrate.”

  “See you soon, Marco,” I tell him, because I’m absolutely sure I will. Becky elbows me for it, but I can tell she’s watching Marco’s reaction, and enjoying the way he grins and watches us as we duck past him and into the club.

  “What? He was cute!” Becky protests as we stride inside. I just snicker, and she sighs, long-suffering. “Sooo … how excited are you for tomorrow?”

  “I’d say more nervous than excited,” I reply. At the bar, I lean across to order us beers. Becky leans across to correct me: two shots and two beers, instead.

  I tap my shot of whiskey to hers, pretty sure already that this is going to be a mistake. But what the hell. My meeting tomorrow isn’t until early afternoon, so I’ll have enough time to recover from the inevitable hangover first.

  “So tell me more,” Becky insists when I pull her onto the dance floor, beers in hand after we’ve both downed our shots.

  “The company’s called Anderson Investments,” I reply over the thud of the bass. “They specialize in small businesses, especially women-owned ones. Apparently the investors are a husband and wife duo, and the wife insists on investing in empowering other women who are just starting out, like she once was.”

  “That’s really cool!” Becky calls back. “So you think they’re going to invest?”

  I shrug. “I hope so?” Secretly, I’m pretty sure I have this one in the bag. I don’t want to jinx it, though. God knows I’ve gotten close before and wound up with my metaphorical heart broken.

  Norman flashes through my mind again, and I force him out. This won’t be like that. I’m going to get a buy-in from an actual company, a business transaction. It won’t be like me trying to beg money from my rich asshole of a boyfriend, who constantly tries to manipulate me, dangling his potential investment over my head like a carrot to make me put up with whatever he wants to do in our romantic lives.

  “That’ll be so incredible.” Becky’s gushing. “Once you have an investor, you’ll be able to ramp up production and really get your products out there.”

  I smile at the thought. I’ve been working on building up Cass’s Cosmetics for four years now, ever since we graduated college. I’ve gotten interest from some big buyers, too, including a department store with chains in New York and LA. That kind of exposure could make all the difference for me as an upstart cosmetician. I could actually expand into a real company.

  But in order to ramp up production enough to actually fill orders at a store that big, I need investment capital. And in order to get investment capital, I need a wealthy person on my side. Someone who believes in me and my products. Someone who’s willing to take on a risk.

  Someone not like Norman, as I learned.

  My heart sinks. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. Shouldn’t be dwelling on that right now. Tonight of all nights. So I force a broad smile on my face and agree with Becky. “As long as tomorrow’s interview goes well,” I hedge, but she brushes away my doubts like so much air.

  “Please, girl. I’ve seen you give this presentation so many times I know you could knock it out of the park in your sleep. Now let’s have some fun.” And then, before I can stop her, Becky’s back at the bar ordering us another round.

  Three more shots and a couple hours of dancing later, to no one’s surprise except maybe Becky’s, she winds up hanging off Marco’s arm as he finishes his shift.

  “I’m so sorry to cut tonight short,” she’s yelling in my ear in the parking lot, but I wave her off.

  “It’s fine. Honestly, I should get to bed anyway. I don’t want to show up hungover tomorrow.” I’ve got plenty of time to sleep this off, but, still. You can never be too careful. “Have fun!” I add, and to judge by the little wink Becky fires me over Marco’s shoulder, I know they both will.

  If there’s a faint pang in my chest at watching them saunter off, Marco’s strong arm wrapped around Becky’s waist, well… I can ignore that, too.

  I head back up the club entrance and order a rideshare home. At this hour, it shouldn’t be too long of a wait. But before my phone even connects with a driver, I hear a muffled c
urse, followed by the clatter of something metal hitting pavement.

  Confused, I step away from the door and the bright light of the club entrance. Near the entrance, but around a far corner of the brick building, hidden from the view of most of the clubgoers, there’s a row of parked cars. Standing next to one of them, cursing and rubbing his back, is an older man. Between his silver hair and his wire rimmed glasses, he reminds me of my grandfather.

  The cursing, however, is not very grandfatherly.

  He kicks at a tire, swearing up a storm, and I can’t help myself. I step over to him.

  “Do you need some help?” I ask.

  He turns to squint into the club light. I move closer, and his vision clears. “Oh, aren’t you a dear.” He shakes his head. “But it’s this tire needs changing, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to help me.”

  “My dad taught me how to change a tire, don’t worry,” I reply, hiding a smirk. I realize I don’t look like the handiest person with a power tool right now, dressed as I am in a tight black club dress, with my mini going-out purse over one shoulder and a full face of makeup.

  But, as my mama always used to say, I contain multitudes.

  “Here, let me give it a shot.” I duck down to pick up the end of the jack that he let fall beside him. Then I glance up at his worried expression, trying not to feel too offended by his doubt. He’s from another generation, clearly. “If I mess up your car, I’ll call the tow truck myself, all right?”

  He laughs. “Well, if you’re that confident, miss… you’ve got a deal.” He backs up, then, and I get to work.

  It’s easy enough to jack his car up to the right height, and I’m lucky he has a wrench in his trunk. I get to removing the lug nuts that suspend his tire, and he watches, his eyebrows climbing higher every second.

  “Not often these days you find any kids your age able to do this,” he comments. “Much less… well.”

  I shoot him an amused glance over my shoulder. “Much less a girl dressed like this?” I ask, arching one perfectly brushed eyebrow.

  He grins. “Apologies for doubting you, miss.”

  “Cassidy,” I reply. “And there’s no need to apologize. Just give a girl the benefit of the doubt next time. My dad taught me how to do this before he’d let me apply for my driver’s license. Said it was a necessary life skill.”

  “That’s me schooled,” the man promises. “Lee, by the way. And thank you. Your father taught you well,” he adds, watching me work.

  I step around his trunk to reach for the donut, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Expecting it to be Lee, I glance back. Then I freeze, my eyes going wide.

  There’s an unfamiliar guy standing behind me. Two, in fact, both a head taller than I am, and dressed in dark clothes. I look around, startled, and realize the second guy is already holding Lee by one arm, his fingers digging into the poor man’s bicep hard enough to be visible from here.

  “Hey, leave him alone,” I say, at the same time that Lee blurts out, “Let the girl be.”

  Lee and I trade a long glance, while our taller assailant sneers. “Wallet. Phone.” He looks me over. “And, well, if you aren’t quick about it…”

  I shudder, not liking the way his gaze lingers. But I’m also not about to give up without a fight. I’m still holding Lee’s wrench, after all, and we’re not ten feet from the club door. Never mind that this guy has almost a head on me, or the fact that he’s got backup.

  “Excuse you?” I demand, advancing. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Messing with a defenseless old man?” As I move, I shift my body weight so the wrench in my fist is concealed behind my torso. Then I settle into a defensive stance, knees bent, ready to move quickly in either direction.

  My dad taught me this, too.

  The man doesn’t move. Over his shoulder, I spot Lee, his eyes going wide. He shakes his head, but I ignore him. “Wallet and phone,” the man says. “I won’t ask again.” He holds out a hand.

  That’s when I strike. I swing the wrench as hard as I can at his wrist. There’s a sickening crack as it hits bone, and the man curses. The guy behind him throws Lee to the ground, about to sprint at me too, but I’m already backing off, screaming for help.

  The man I struck is cradling his wrist, but when he looks up at me now, there’s no more disdain or lingering desire in his gaze. There’s only white hot fury. “You’ll pay for that,” he swears, advancing on me.

  Then, out of nowhere, a blur collides with him.

  All I see are fists, and all I can hear are grunts. At first, I wonder if Lee has miraculously sprung up off the ground to perform some jiu-jitsu worthy of a guy half his age. But no. One glance shows me he’s still sprawled on the pavement, his forehead crumpled in pain.

  As for the two attackers, they’re both busy defending themselves from another guy, a blur of a man who stands at least as tall as they do. I catch a glimpse of the newcomer landing a solid hit to one attacker’s jaw, then wrenching the other’s arm around his back in the same motion, using the man’s momentum against him to flip him ass over head onto pavement.

  I sidestep the brawl and kneel beside Lee. “Are you all right?” I ask in a low undertone.

  He huffs at me. “Please, I’ve certainly had worse. But you … You’re supposed to just give men like this what they demand. It’s dangerous to fight.”

  “Believe me.” I offer Lee a hand, and he lets me help him back to his feet. “I’ve learned the hard way. Sometimes it’s every bit as dangerous to give them an inch, because they’ll just take a mile.”

  Lee huffs again, but to judge by the shrewd look in his eye, he’s not about to contradict me.

  Another grunt interrupts us, and we turn to find both the attackers laid out on the pavement. Standing over them, blood dusting his knuckles, is quite frankly, the hottest man I’ve ever seen.

  It’s not just the fact that he’s glistening with sweat from fighting off a pair of assholes who would have robbed me—or worse. Although the small cut on his cheek and bruise forming beneath it do serve to highlight exactly how sharp his cheekbones are, how square his jaw is.

  But mostly, it’s the fact that he looks like he’d be perfectly at home on the cover of some sporting magazine, advertising the team he plays for, or something. He’s muscular, but not overly built. Just… solid.

  Solid enough that he laid out two guys almost the same size as him in no time at all.

  Beside me, Lee starts to clap. After a split second, I grin and join in. Our rescuer turns, and my breath catches in my throat.

  Fuck. Not only does he have those cheekbones, that jawline, that build, but he’s also got unreal eyes. Green, with a twinkle from the reflection of the streetlight overhead. “Are you all right?” he asks, and I assume he’s speaking to us both, but he’s staring straight at me.

  “We are now,” Lee replies, with a glance in my direction. “Although, I have to admit, Cassidy might have had them cornered, given another minute.”

  “I noticed.” His gaze still hasn’t left mine. I can’t make myself look away. I don’t want to. “One tip, though?” He gestures at my arm, and I glance down, surprised to realize that I’m still clenching the wrench in my fist. “Next time, aim for the temple, instead of the hand. If you’d incapacitated him completely, it would’ve narrowed your odds with the second man.”

  I let out a faint huff of laughter. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m being mugged.” With that, I pass the wrench to Lee, and run my hand through my hair. “Shit. Should we—”

  “I called the cops already,” the man says. He glances from me to Lee to the car in the lot behind us. “Roadside assistance, as well.”

  “That I had handled,” I protest, but Lee is already nudging me toward our rescuer.

  “Go, go. The last thing I need is you getting into even more trouble on my behalf,” Lee is saying.

  By this point, I realize we’ve attracted something of a crowd. A few camera phones are pointed our way, and someone f
rom the club—another bouncer to replace the one Becky took off with—comes over, saying he has basic medical training. He kneels beside our would-be robbers to check their pulses, nodding to confirm they’ll be all right, minus the scrapes and bruises.

  All the while, my gaze keeps straying over to our knight in shining armor. Or rather, knight in… a pair of jeans and a polo shirt.

  The second or third time I glance over, he catches me looking, and moves closer. “Can I give you a ride home?” he asks. “It’ll probably be safer, this area, this time of night.”

  “Actually.” I tilt my head. Size him up. It’s still early yet. The club might have to shut down when the cops show up, but he’s right, this area, it’s chock full of night life. Both the good and bad kinds.

  Part of me shouts at myself to remember about tomorrow. I have a big important meeting to nail. But it’s in the afternoon. Tonight was meant to be my celebratory night out, to hype myself up for it. Now Becky’s vanished, leaving me all alone to deal with all of this.

  I deserve a little fun, too. “Can I buy you a drink?” I ask.

  My hero grins.

  2

  Cassidy

  We wind up at a dive bar down the road. It’s much more my scene than the club was to begin with. Don’t get me wrong, I love dancing on occasion, but that place catered to a younger, more tequila-heavy crowd than I normally party with.