One Wild Night Read online

  One Wild Night

  Vivian Ward

  Contents

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Our Dirty Secret

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  Status: It’s Complicated

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  Chapter 1: Anita

  Chapter 2: Gage

  Chapter 3: Anita

  Chapter 4: Gage

  Chapter 5: Anita

  Chapter 6: Gage

  Chapter 7: Anita

  Chapter 8: Gage

  Chapter 9: Anita

  Chapter 10: Gage

  Chapter 11: Anita

  Chapter 12: Gage

  Chapter 13: Anita

  Chapter 14: Gage

  Chapter 15: Anita

  Chapter 17: Gage

  Chapter 17: Anita

  Epilogue

  Love Locked Down

  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

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Vivian Ward

  Copyright © 2017 by Vivian Ward

  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.

  This book is for all the naughty girlfriends, boyfriends, wives and husbands.

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

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  Chapter 1

  Beth

  “Beth, there won’t be anything for you to do. This is a guys-only trip,” my husband says.

  Shaking his head, he rubs his eyeballs with the palms of his hands, hoping I’ll drop the subject.

  If only he would be so lucky. I’m not dropping it, and I am going on this alleged guys-only trip.

  “Tom,” I say. “It’s not going to kill you to take me with you. What’s the worst that could happen? So what, your wife tags along with you and your friends. Big deal!”

  A heavy sigh escapes his lungs, and his shoulders hang in defeat.

  “Look, Beth, I’m not the one who will have a problem with you joining us. It’s the guys who won’t like my wife tagging along. Believe me, babe, I’d love to bring you on the trip, but I’m not sure the guys will like it.”

  I walk over to him and drape my arm around his shoulders, taking a seat on his lap.

  “Honey,” I pick up his chin to make him look at me. “Everything will be fine. Nick and Dave won’t mind. We’ve all been friends for so long that they’re not going to care if I soak up some rays and catch up on some reading while you guys make fools of yourself.”

  I must admit, a large part of me is curious what the men do on their little weekend trips in the wilderness. Last time they all had a boys-only weekend, they went hunting back in November.

  I’m not sure what took place but what I do remember is that when Nick came home with my husband, he had a giant schlong drawn on the side of his face, pointing to his mouth—in black permanent marker.

  I shrugged it off to the fact that boys will be boys and didn’t ask for any explanations. I assumed they were all drinking and pulling pranks on one another, but all that matters is that they had fun. Judging from the looks of them when they got back, they had a little too much fun.

  Besides, all I cared about was the fact that they didn’t bring home any animal carcasses. I cringed at the fact that they were going deer hunting, but I didn’t say a word.

  I never say anything when he wants to do something with the guys, but I have nothing to do this weekend. My plans with my best friend Kelly fell through.

  I’m not even sure why I call her my best friend. Maybe it’s because we’ve been friends since we were in seventh grade and we were always so close, but these days, I hardly know her anymore.

  Right before I met Tom, she started dating Kenny. A total douchebag, but who am I to tell her anything? I’m only her best friend of 20 years. What would I know?

  Once she met him, our relationship ceased to exist. I was always chasing after her, calling her, making plans with her and she’d dodge my calls or bail at the last minute.

  Around the same time was when Tom and I developed a friendship. I’ve never been good at making friends with girls, but with guys, it’s always been so easy. They don’t ask to borrow shit, they don’t hate on you or your clothes, and they sure as fuck don’t gossip like some of my female friends in the past have.

  Maybe Kelly hooking up with Kenny was a blessing in disguise. When I met Tom, we hit it off right away. There was something about him. He had this calming effect on my soul that I’ve never experienced in anyone else’s presence. I know that as long as Tom’s around, I’m happy and I feel safe. I never have to worry about anything.

  Time seemed to stand still—and it still does, even to this day whenever we’re together. We’ve only been married for the last eight years, but they’ve been the most glorious, most wonderful eight years of my life. Well, that plus the two years before we got married.

  I’d say I wasn’t sure that we were even supposed to meet but looking back on things, I know that we were destined to be together.

  It was a rainy evening in April, just a couple of days after I’d filed taxes. My car had taken a nosedive, and I hadn’t paid the extra fee to get my refund instantly so I was stuck riding the bus until payday when I could afford to get my car repaired.

  Unfortunately, that was still another 10 days away since my paydays were every two weeks.

  Not wanting to stand in the pouring rain under the very crowded and flooded bus stop, I ducked inside of a small coffee shop while I waited on the next scheduled stop, armed with my favorite magazine.

  “Can I have a medium coffee? Six creams and twelve sugars, please?” I asked the barista, shivering from the cold rain on my skin as I walked up to the warm counter.

  “That’ll be $1.92, please,” she smiled as she placed my pile of creamers and sugars on the dirty silver countertop.

  Even th
ough it was well past any rush hour for coffee, brown coffee rings occupied most of the counter space. What once was, or still could’ve been, a polished, shiny, reflective surface was dull, dingy and dirty.

  It reminded me of how I felt, still soaked from the rain after a long day of work, eager to get home and put on something clean and dry.

  Careful not to drop my magazine or get it wet, I cautiously dug into my pocket, fishing out my crumpled dollar bills.

  “Here you go,” I said, trying to smooth the money as I handed it to her.

  The frown on her face as she accepted my crumpled money was a reminder of my ugly day that I had wished would come to an end.

  “Sorry,” I apologized, lending a weak smile as my peace offering. “Have a great evening.”

  With almost 20 minutes to kill before I could begin my journey home, I walked over to an empty table that was next to a man who couldn’t stop watching me.

  I think he’s smiling at me, I thought to myself.

  Yeah, he was probably inwardly making fun of me. The awkward, wet woman who is disorganized beyond belief.

  Placing my mountain of cream and sugar on the bare table, I slowly began adding the deliciousness to my cup of black coffee.

  “Do you often have coffee with your sugar?” he teased, a smile tugging at the corners of his gorgeous lips.

  His smile warmed my heart. It was dazzling, whimsical and contagious.

  Goosebumps ran down my spine, causing me to shake as a nervous laugh escaped my throat.

  “I like sweet things,” I replied.

  Pulling my Cosmopolitan magazine out from under the crook of my armpit, I was careful not to get it wet as I took my seat at the table, slowly stirring my coffee.

  “If you like sweet things, why are you reading such a dirty magazine?” the handsome stranger asked.

  Furrowing my eyebrows, I looked at the cover to remind myself what’s in that month’s issue.

  • 10 Tips to Plumper Lips

  • Get Abs In Time for Summer

  • Give Him the Blow Job He Craves

  Oh my god!

  The heat spread across my cheeks and down my throat, reaching my collarbone. It was only at this point that I realized that my throat was dry and I choked trying to answer him.

  He laughed at me.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  I took a sip of my lukewarm coffee and let it moisten my throat.

  “No, I just had a dry spot. Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

  “Didn’t anyone teach you not to be such a naughty girl?”

  The way his eyes locked in on mine took my breath away, and I could hear my pulse echoing against my ear drum.

  He’s totally flirting with me, and he’s so cute!

  I chose to ignore him and take another gulp of my coffee before it got too cold that I’d have to throw it out. You’d think if they can’t at least wipe down the counters, they could make fresh coffee. This stuff had to be what was leftover from breakfast. It was stale as hell.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “One thing my mother did teach me is to never tell a stranger my name,” I batted my eyelashes at him.

  Two can play this game.

  “Well,” he extended his hand. “My name is Tom.”

  When we shook hands, I couldn’t help but notice the surge of energy that rushed through my body, tingling my inner core as our skin came into contact with one another. It turned all of the feelings of giddiness into volts of electricity.

  “There,” he said as if he’d made some valid point. “Now, we’re not strangers. What’s your name?”

  “You’re awfully full of yourself,” I replied, unable to stop smiling at him. My cheeks were beginning to hurt as long as I’d been smiling at him. “And my name is Beth.”

  He eyed me, drinking in my appearance. My sandy brown hair was a dripping mess, causing it to curl up at the ends. Nervous that he might disapprove of my appearance, I did my best to ring the water from my hair and twist it into a low bun at the nape of my neck.

  “You’re beautiful, Beth,” he watched me intently. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing at a coffee shop on a Thursday night all by herself? Don’t suppose you have a big, mean boyfriend or husband, do you?” he looked around.

  There was nobody in the coffee shop besides us, an elderly couple and a homeless man. Obviously, I was there alone.

  “If I did, that wouldn’t be any of your business.”

  He frowned at my sarcasm.

  “But, since you seem like a nice guy, I’ll answer your question.” His steely eyes perked up as he closed his book, holding onto my every word. “I’m here alone. I just got off work, and I’m waiting for the bus to go home.”

  He seemed surprised as his mouth opened to speak but then closed it before opening it once again.

  “Beth,” he looked around outside. “A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be taking a bus back and forth. It’s too dangerous in the city. Let me give you a ride home tonight.”

  I started to object, but he cut me off.

  “And before you say no, let me just remind you that it’s raining and getting dark pretty quickly. It’s the least I can do so I can go home with a clear conscience.”

  “A clear conscience of what?” I asked him.

  “That you got home okay. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you,” he grinned at me.

  “You don’t even know me,” I protested. “Besides, I’ve already bought my bus pass, so it’s paid for. Might as well use it.”

  “I insist.”

  I’m not sure why but I couldn’t say no to him. Maybe it was his charm, perhaps it was the pouring rain, or like I said, maybe it was fate.

  For the next hour, the two of us sat and talked. I explained to him the situation with my car and the need for the bus pass. We made plenty of other small talk about everything, yet nothing in particular.

  During the ride home, I became very grateful as we approached my apartment. The rain started picking up, and light hail fell from the sky. There was no way I wanted to get caught in that.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I reached for the door handle. “It was really nice of you, and now you can go home and sleep well tonight.”

  “Beth?” he grabbed my arm, stopping me from leaving the car. “I don’t want you riding the bus. There’s too many weirdos and smelly people on there. How about a ride tomorrow, too?”

  I smiled at his thoughtfulness. His concern for me as a complete stranger was admirable.

  “Are you going to offer to drive me to and from work every day?” I asked.

  “If that’s what it takes,” he replied.

  “If that’s what what takes?” I asked.

  “To get your number.”

  It was the sweetest thing a guy had said to me in a long time. I couldn’t turn him down, and now that I have him, I’m glad that I didn’t.

  “I’ll talk to the guys and see what they say,” Tom finally says as we’re climbing into bed.

  “About what?” I ask.

  “You tagging along with us. I’m telling you right now, they’re not going to like it, and there won’t be anything for you to do.”

  I climb into bed and snuggle against him. The scent of his body wash fills my senses, and I get drunk on the smell as I deeply inhale.

  “You’re the best. I just don’t want to be left home alone all weekend,” I make a pouty face and give him puppy dog eyes.

  He hates when I do that because I look so pathetic and he can never tell me no.

  “What are you going to do while we fish and hang out?” he frowns.

  “I don’t know,” I answer, shrugging my shoulders. “Read? Do crossword puzzles? Enjoy the sun? I’m not picky.”

  “Okay,” he sighs. “The thought of leaving you alone all weekend does make me a bit sad for you, especially since you gave me those puppy dog eyes of yours. I’ll see what I can do,” he reaches up and uses his finger t
o tap the tip of my nose. “Night, babe. I love you.”

  “Night,” I reply, snuggling up to him as I wrap the blanket around me.

  I really do have the best husband. He loves me, he cares about me, and he makes sure I’m taken care of—even when it comes to my plans, so I’m not bored or lonely.

  I don’t know what I did to get so lucky, but I’m glad he’s mine.

  Chapter 2

  Beth

  “Damn it!” Tom says as he slams his lunch box on the counter.

  Normally, when he comes home from work he’s in a pretty good mood, but he’s mad about something. Whatever it is, it mustn’t be good news because it takes a lot to ruffle his feathers.

  “What’s wrong, babe?” I ask.

  “Nick can’t go because he has to watch his girlfriend’s kids this weekend since her mom’s in the hospital again. And Dave backed out on me because he said it wouldn’t be any fun.”

  “What the hell? That doesn’t make any sense,” I shake my head.

  They always go camping together, so it doesn’t jive why he wouldn’t go.

  “I think he’s seeing someone new but doesn’t want to say,” he empties his dirty lunch containers in the sink.

  “Why? He’s never cared before.”

  “Yeah?” he cranes his neck to give me some side eye. “This chic is pregnant.”

  “What?” my mouth flies open. This is the first I’m hearing about this.

  “Yeah, she’s pregnant. I think he said she’s almost seven months?”

  “Is it his?”

  “No,” Tom take a glass from the counter and turns the faucet on and laughs. “He met her about three months ago, and he thought she was cute so he started talking to her.”

  I watch Tom grab a few ice cubes and toss them into the glass as before he fills it with water. After he gulps down two full glasses, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

  This is his nightly ritual because he’s so thirsty every time he comes home from work.