Starting Over (Whiskey Ridge Book 1) Read online

  She remembered it like it was yesterday, and it haunted her even now. First, there was a loud crash, shattering the quiet of Sycamore Street. Then there was smoke, then fire and screams. It was the screaming she could still hear in her nightmares.

  Now, all that was left was a memorial cross and some plastic flowers that had been erected at the corner of her property. It had been a whole year now, but the memorial remained. She would never remove it herself, and so she assumed she would have occasional visitors to the spot where they lost their loved one.

  When it happened, she’d been home around the same time of day, taking her break from work. The crash had startled her as she took a quick nap before heading back to work. At first, she wasn’t sure what it was, but when she looked outside, she only saw a mangled mess of metal wrapped around a large oak tree. Smoke was already billowing from the wreckage. She grabbed her cell phone, quickly dialed 911 and then ran toward the smoke, dropping her cell somewhere along the way.

  There was no time to talk. She needed to help this person, and she’d really tried for the few minutes she’d had before the car went up in flames. The ambulance arrived, but it was far too late to do anything, and Kelly sat on the rock wall next to her mailbox, sobbing into her hands out of frustration and despair. She didn’t know the woman inside, but she was sure she had family somewhere. People would obviously miss her greatly, and the thought made her heart hurt for those strangers who had no idea that their loved one was gone.

  And now, she could see someone visiting the site yet again. Most of the time, she couldn’t really tell who it was as it was such a distance. But today, she could see that he wore a baseball cap and seemed to be in his late thirties. He knelt beside the cross, kissed the end of his fingers and touched it. Her heart ached. What a loss he must feel.

  Feeling like she was interfering in something sacred, Kelly keyed the lock to her house and went inside, her stomach churning with memories from that day.

  * * *

  Pulling back into The Spirit Spa for her evening routine, Kelly was surprised when she had a hard time finding a parking space. The lot was small anyway, but now it was packed with cars which was highly unusual.

  She jumped out and ran inside, the roar of noise apparent. The Spirit Spa was a quiet place of serenity and balance. Tonight, it sounded like the dull roar of a mall was penetrating her cocoon of peace, and she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  “Cat, what’s going on?” she asked as her yoga teacher met her at the door.

  “The new business opened its doors tonight,” she said with a sly smile.

  “Why are you smiling?” Kelly asked, her eyebrow cocked.

  “Well… I’m not too sure you’re going to like this…”

  “Like what?” Kelly asked, but Cat didn’t get a chance to answer before she heard shouts coming from upstairs. “What in the hell…” Kelly said before running up the stairs, taking them two by two, which was quite a feat with heels on.

  She swung open the door to the large space that had been created upstairs years ago when the landlord had removed the walls between several of the bedrooms. She was stunned at what she saw. Blue and red mats now covered the hardwood floors, and mirrors lined one wall. Ninja silhouette stickers were on another wall and there were at least ten people dressed in white uniforms moving slowly around the room while shouting words she couldn’t understand.

  One man was standing at the front of the room wearing a white uniform too, but he had a black belt on. Assuming this was their “leader”, Kelly started waving her hand from the doorway to get his attention. He looked at her, obviously irritated that she was interrupting his class, and then returned his gaze to his students.

  “Cha Rytt,” he said as each student stood at attention and slapped their arms by their sides. “Kyung Yet!” he called, and then they all bowed before he released them. He started writing on some index cards, completely ignoring Kelly who was still standing in the doorway.

  “Um, excuse me?” she said, more than a little irritated now. “Hello?” When he didn’t look up, she stepped onto the red mat with her stiletto heels and that immediately caught his attention.

  “Hey, hey… The mat is for students only, and definitely not for chicks wearing heels,” he said, a cocky smile on his ruggedly handsome face. Wait, what? She wasn’t thinking clearly, obviously. This guy was a jerk. He called her a chick. And suddenly she had an urge to bite his lower lip.

  “Then how about answering me?” she said, stepping back off the mat. He crouched down and rubbed the indentation from his mat before standing up to meet her gaze again. He smelled like a mix of cologne and well-earned sweat, and she wanted to get a closer whiff but thought better of it.

  “These floors are expensive. And how do you even stand up in those things?” he asked, referring to her red patent leather heels, which were killing her feet at the moment.

  “Really not the point of this conversation,” she said through gritted teeth. Who was this guy?

  “How can I help you, ma’am?” he asked, bowing. The sarcastic smile on his face made her want to slap him, and then maybe kiss him. And then probably slap him again.

  Damn, he was good looking. Jet black hair. Thick. Wavy. Perfect for running her fingers through. Olive skin, dark in comparison to her pale tone. Green eyes that were a color she’d never seen before. A chiseled jawline with just a hint of stubble… “Ma’am?” he repeated, smiling again at how obvious she was in her staring at him.

  Kelly cleared her throat and stood up straighter. “Your business here… is too loud.”

  “What?”

  “I own The Spirit Spa downstairs. I’ve been here for two years. Our clients prefer a calm and serene environment, Mr….”

  “Maverick.”

  “Maverick?” she repeated.

  “Quinn Maverick,” he said, holding out his hand to shake hers. What kind of a name was Quinn Maverick? Sounded like a stage name or a rockstar. Or a cowboy.

  She shook it, feeling the warmth of his grip and the size of his massive hand. How tall was this guy? Had to be at least six foot two. Wonder if his abs were rock hard…

  “And you are?” he asked.

  “Oh. Kelly Cole,” she stammered, pulling her hand from his and struggling to regain her composure. “As I was saying, The Spirit Spa prides itself on being a place that our clients can come to get away from the noise of their day and their own stress.”

  “Nice elevator pitch,” he said with a dry chuckle. She ignored the comment and continued.

  “So, I would appreciate it if you and your students could keep it down up here. Thanks,” she said, turning on her heel and heading for the stairs before she did something stupid.

  “Sorry, but no can do, Miss Cole,” he said, turning back toward the mat.

  “Pardon?” She swung around and almost lost her footing which would have caused a nasty fall down the hardwood stairs. She really shouldn’t be wearing stilettos.

  “I said I can’t do that. This is a karate studio, Miss Cole. We shout and yell and spar and kick and jump. We’re not doing tai chi or mime training.”

  “That’s just not going to work for me!” she screeched a little louder than she would’ve liked. This guy was really getting under her skin.

  “Well, there’s nothing in our lease prohibiting noise, Miss Cole. The landlord was fully aware of what my business was when we signed, and she was more than happy to have us here.” How could someone be so good-looking and yet so irritating at the same time?

  “Of course she was. She’s been trying to rent this place for months,” she muttered under her breath. If she’d only known that the landlord was going to go this route, maybe she would’ve rented the space herself and just held onto it. Who was she kidding? She never could’ Andve afforded that anyway.

  “Yes, she was,” he said. What, did he have the hearing of a bat? “And, just so you know, if she hadn’t rented it to me, she was going to lose this property to the bank which woul
d have landed your peaceful butt on the street.”

  “Are you always this much of a jerk?” she asked, closing the gap between them and staring into his deep green eyes.

  “Maybe. Keep coming up here, and you’ll find out soon enough.” His jaw was now clenched, and she could see the muscles in his neck tightening as they disappeared behind his collar. She tried desperately not to think about where those neck muscles led.

  “Is that a threat, Mr. Maverick?” she asked, suddenly wondering if maybe she shouldn’t be challenging a black belt, but feeling a little bit turned on by their exchange. She really needed a date. Soon.

  “I don’t threaten women, Miss Cole. I’m a black belt in taekwondo and a Southern gentleman, but I don’t take kindly to demands that aren’t warranted or backed up by my lease. You might have been here first, but I’m here now, and I plan to grow my business. If you have a problem with that, I suggest offering earplugs to your precious, uptight clients. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said as he shut the door to the studio and Kelly was left standing there with her mouth gaping open.

  * * *

  Quinn Maverick was a man’s man. He had a motorcycle. He drank the occasional beer. He was a black belt in karate. But damn if a beautiful woman couldn’t turn him to mush in a heartbeat.

  The last woman who’d done that had stolen his heart and then broken it. He wasn’t about to open himself up to that kind of torture again. No, a life of meaningless sex or celibacy sounded a hell of a lot better than loving again.

  And why was he thinking about love anyway? She was just an uptight sexpot wearing her red stiletto heels and almost ruining his new floor. She was beautiful, with her porcelain skin and long, brown hair, but she was wound tighter than a yo-yo, and he wasn’t signing up for a crazy woman right now.

  He was building a business. He was a focused entrepreneur. And right now, he was in need of a cold shower.

  * * *

  “So, did you meet the new guy upstairs?” Cat purred, true to her name. She was waiting at the bottom of the staircase, her long blond hair molded into a perfect bun, and her black yoga pants hugging her even more perfect butt. Ugh.

  “I did, and he’s the world’s biggest jackass,” Kelly said as she brushed past Cat and went straight into her office.

  “Seriously? He’s a fine looking specimen to me!” Cat said grinning like a… Cheshire cat. How appropriate.

  “Well, good looks can only take you so far in life. His attitude is horrendous.”

  “Kelly, don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to lighten up. Have some fun. Live a little.” Cat was the ultimate free spirit. Nothing bothered her, and maybe it was all the yoga. She just floated through life with her perfect abs and tight butt, and men followed her around like they were lost. Surely she’d have Mr. Maverick in bed within the week, and that thought made Kelly feel a little… jealous?

  “Cat, don’t you have a class to teach?”

  “Oh, hell, you’re right!” Cat jumped off the edge of the desk and ran across the hall.

  Kelly stared out across her now full parking lot, and sighed. It was May, and that meant she was about to experience the one day of the year she dreaded most. Mother’s Day. Not because her mother was dead. No, her mother was still very much alive… if you could call that “living”. But Kelly would have to go visit her in Atlanta, and the thought made her skin crawl.

  Chapter 3

  Kelly pulled onto her mother’s short concrete driveway, and her heart was already starting to pound and skip. It was a quirk of hers. Anytime she got anxious, her heart had its own little parade complete with a drum line and drunk cheerleaders. She struggled to catch her breath, willing herself not to have a full-on panic attack like the last time she visited.

  One year ago. Mother’s Day again.

  She’d promised her mother she would come once a year on that date, but no other visits. She just couldn’t take it. No Christmas dinners at mom’s house. She was welcome to visit Kelly, but she never did.

  Kelly’s sister, Vivienne, had long since abandoned their mother, opting instead to marry a surgeon and move to France, the birthplace of her super cool name. She’d been born Vicky, but she’d complained it was a “redneck” name and changed it when she left home. After a brief stint as a stripper and then an escort - not redneck at all apparently - she’d managed to snag a surgeon she’d given a lap dance to and cash in.

  But not Kelly. Nope, good old dependable Kelly had stayed close by, sending her mother money when she had it to spare, and visiting her once a year.

  To an outsider, her once a year visit from just two hours away was the sign of a very bad daughter. Who leaves their mother for a whole year without coming by and checking on her occasionally? Kelly had a hard time explaining it to people without giving her life story, and that just wasn’t going to happen. Her life story was hers, and it was better left unsaid.

  She couldn’t procrastinate any longer or her mother would come outside in her bathrobe and embarrass her, so she turned off the car and stepped out.

  As she stepped out of the car, she felt the dead leaves crunch beneath her feet which was an odd sensation given that it was May in Georgia and those leaves had fallen last winter. But her mother wasn’t one for yard work, and the driveway had more leaves than concrete.

  Sadly, Kelly had worn her winter boots today in preparation for seeing her mom. She looked ridiculous, really, wearing a tank top, capri pants and a pair of winter boots. But she knew it was necessary given the state of her mother’s home.

  She walked to the door and knocked, knowing full well that the bell hadn’t worked in years. She’d grown up here, in this house, but it looked like a strange place to her now. It certainly wasn’t home, but then again it never was.

  She could hear noise inside the house as her mother made her way to the door. Thankfully, she was still in pretty good shape given the rough life she’d led. All the years of drinking and drugs had certainly taken a toll on her health, with one previous cancer battle many years ago, but she seemed to have bounced back as well as could be expected.

  Kelly heard the lock being turned as her mother slowly pulled the door open. She couldn’t open it all the way, given the amount of trash and junk scattered about the house. It had been a full year since she’d seen her mom, and she kind of dreaded the thought of having to see just how bad the house had gotten in the last twelve months.

  She smelled the house before she saw it. It was a hard smell to describe to someone else. Mold mixed with cat urine was the easiest way to begin explaining it, but it had such a bite that her eyes were already stinging.

  “Kelly, my baby!” her mother said, as she always did. Today she was wearing gray sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt. She used to send her mother nice clothes, but she never seemed to wear them anyway so Kelly had given up years ago. She imagined they were now buried somewhere deep within the piles of possessions her mother lived amongst.

  “Hey, Momma,” Kelly said, slowly reaching in to the doorway to give her mother a hug. It was difficult with all the junk keeping them apart, literally and figuratively. But Kelly was well aware that one day her mother would be gone from this earth, and she didn’t want to have any guilty feelings about not embracing her when she could.

  Her mother smelled of smoke and a mixture of the smell from the house. Kelly’s gag reflex started to activate, as it usually did when she visited. She leaned her head back outside and took a deep breath. It would be the last deep breath she took for the next couple of hours.

  “Come on in!” her mother said, as if she was about to host an elegant dinner party. She was completely oblivious to the problem, and always had been. She and her sister had grown up in the house, and Vivienne had run away as soon as possible. Of course, she was Vicky back then.

  Her mother backed up, and Kelly had to push on the door with her shoulder to even get inside. She was thin, just like her mother’s build, but there was barely enough space to slide through. When she
finally got her first glimpse of the living room, she wanted to cry. It wasn’t like she had a lot of good memories there, but there had to have been at least twice the junk there was twelve months ago.

  Her mother had made the mess, that much was certain. But no one should live like that. And there was no reason for it which was the frustrating part. She’d had to come to terms over the years with the fact that her mother had mental issues of her own. She didn’t know where they came from, she just knew they existed. The years of drug and alcohol abuse had to have been caused by something, and now the hoarding was her addiction.

  “Oh, Momma, how do you live like this?” was all Kelly could manage to say. She wanted a gas mask right now, and she tried to take slow, shallow breaths to keep from inhaling too much of the toxic air. The living room was full of junk. Her mother liked to say that she was a “collector”, but there were no collections here. There were just piles of trash, newspapers and magazines and random broken items that her mother had been climbing over for years. One day, she’d be responsible for going through the items in the house when her mother passed away, and the thought made her want to cry.

  “Oh, now it’s not that bad. You know how I like to collect things.” Edie Cole didn’t collect things. She made messes and saved everything, but she was by no means a collector.

  “But this place is so unsafe! There’s mold in here and the smell is overwhelming, Mom. Why don’t you let me help you get into a new place and get rid of all this stuff?” She didn’t know why she was having this conversation. They had this conversation once a year, every year. And it never went anywhere good.

  “You know, today is Mother’s Day. Let’s not have an argument, Kelly,” she said in a very flat voice. Her mother had seemed devoid of emotion in recent years. Maybe it had been the years of drug abuse, or maybe she just didn’t feel anything anymore. Kelly had found herself sharing that attribute at times, willing herself not to “feel” so as to avoid pain. Her entire childhood had been one painful day after another, mostly contained within the house where she currently stood, and the avoidance of feelings had served her well. Most of the time.