Call it Fate

By Elizabeth Wyke

Discovering a long-kept secret...
Helped by a mysterious stranger...
Sometimes, fate takes you by surprise.

Locating a book in the campus library unexpectedly embarks college sophomore, Hannah McCurry, into a life-altering journey as she stumbles across something she never expected. A secret not only protected from the world at large, but essentially hidden, specifically, from her.

Joining Hannah, with a secret of his own, is the gloriously handsome librarian, Spencer Rush. Meeting him was fate. Trusting him was a choice. But falling for him was beyond her control.

Through her life-changing quest, doubts increase while truths of her past are unveiled. Two seemingly unrelated instruments become the keys to unlocking her future. A book. And a stranger.

Call it FATE. Call it INTENSE. Definitely call it HEAT.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Wyke
• Release date: Nov 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310237263

Elizabeth Wyke

Though a Colorado native, Elizabeth has lived most of her life where the wind comes sweeping down the plains, in the great state of Oklahoma. Here she lives with a ton of testosterone... her amazing husband, two incredible sons, and three dogs - two of which are also male, and thus testosterone-driven, as well. Most of her free time (i.e. after the kids are asleep) is spent replenishing what dwindling estrogen levels remain, by reading and writing sappy love stories. And she must confess, regularly indulging in healthy addictions of Facebook, über-sweet coffee drinks, and all things Maroon 5.

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Call it Fate

Copyright ©2014 Elizabeth Wyke

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by an information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

Published by Elizabeth Wyke

Cover design by Elizabeth Wyke

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT

DEDICATION

PREFACE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

For Momma and Daddy

Your immeasurable encouragement has been my rock. Thanks so very much for always being in my corner. I would never have made it here without your cheers and pompoms. I love you both more than you’ll ever know.

And for my husband

Thank you for your steadfast love and support. I know I haven’t been the most genial person to live with during the writing of this book. Thank you for encouraging me to pursue my dreams.

I have loved you forever, my love. And I always will.

PREFACE

Fear was a tourniquet around my body. I was incapable of moving, even if I had an idea of where to go, or what to do. I panicked and sucked at the air I couldn’t seem to find. Strength left my knees. I wobbled forward, but somehow managed to catch myself awkwardly when the side of my knee banged into the bed. I looked to him, pleading with my eyes that he’d come to. That he’d overpower the spell that engulfed him.

But he did nothing.

The devil in front of me leveled himself, spitting blood from his mouth. A twisted smile crept across his face. It sickened me.

I thought he’d come for me then. To finish the deal.

But what he did instead was so much worse.

CHAPTER ONE

If ever I wondered what measure of time would be enough to change a life, never would I have guessed the mere minutes of a chance encounter in one afternoon could be enough. Or was it a fateful encounter? Is fate in control of our every day? Our every decision? Our everything? Or do we get a say?

Either way, whether it was fate, or my own decisions that led me here, the actions and outcomes from that one afternoon, were bigger than me. And they changed everything.

It was a normal day. But it was Friday, and therefore destined to be great. Right?

Over the past eleven years, a tumultuous thundercloud had become the norm. I was forced to learn how to adapt and weather the storms. But like a young caterpillar to her chrysalis, I drew into myself, and there found tranquility in my books. Books and learning became the crux of my existence. They were constant. And predictable. Much, much more than my life had panned out to be.

That afternoon, like every Friday afternoon, hours of studying were on my agenda. The library was still full of over-studied, scrappy-haired college kids, but that would be changing soon. Only the future-driven, die-hards would remain as company. The others would go out to enjoy the life given them.

The air inside was tainted with smells of musky old book-binding glue and mold. Just the thought brought a dingy yellow to mind. Even the hideous fluorescent light played with sallow hues against the dull, outdated walls, and speckled industrial carpet.

Even still, this place was like a home away from home for me. A sea of knowledge I readily threw myself into at every chance. I knew the layout well and came upon my destination easily.

Double-checking the call number scribbled on the scrap of paper I held, I found the right section.

A guy was standing on top of a short restocking ladder. He stepped down right as I moved to pass behind him. My body angled at the last second and I managed to squeeze past without collision, or even the slightest touch. Though an apologetic excuse me whispered through my lips at the almost encounter.

My face blushed and my head dropped, as I hurried around his restocking cart at the end of the aisle, making it to the proper section just around the corner.

The extraterrestrial reference was much fewer in the Main Library than in the Science-Engineering Library. Not sure if that would make it easier or harder to find my target. At least here I’d be searching for a needle in a haystack, rather than a needle in a large pile of needles.

Thank goodness for dewy decimals.

I trailed my fingers along old hardbacks, searching for ET7.14698.

Watch out!

The shrill warning from the other side was too late.

My hands shot up to cover my head reflexively, albeit a failed attempt at self-preservation. Instant throbbing ensued from the blow, after the stack of books toppled down on me from the shelf above.

Dizziness was immediate. It hurt and I felt faint from the impact. I held on to the shelf in front of me with one hand to steady myself, while my eyes shut tight and fingers from the other hand rubbed down the goose egg now forming an inch into my hairline. Every vein in my head throbbed, and all I could see was a fuzzy grey behind closed eyes, as whooshing sounds echoed in my ears.

I heard him, then. My would-be attacker. It was the guy from around the corner on the other side. The guy I nearly collided with only a moment before. He sounded apologetic and shocked at the incident. He went on and on making excuses about trying to replace a book on the other side, and he needed to work on his finesse... blah, blah, blah. I didn’t care about excuses, or explanations. I just wanted to be left alone. Sequestered suffering was more my game.

I finally opened my eyes to tell him I was alright, and feign off the undesired attention, but that’s when I finally saw him. Hands down, the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen. Cliché? Perhaps. True? Most definitely.

He was tall, and towered over my petite frame. He had about three days of good stubble going, and I liked it. Probably a little too much.

I sighed a little inside.

And that’s when I realized the impact must have been major and done serious damage. Typically, I didn’t feel anything around quote-unquote, attractive guys. No jittery nerves. No butterflies. No nonsense. No… nothing.

Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t not into guys. Nothing like that. I just wasn’t one of those girls who made a habit of falling for guys too easy. That, was my doe-eyed best friend’s trade.

But this guy deserved the attention.

I blinked my eyes back into focus. The sudden turbulence of attraction jolted my, otherwise, steely nerves.

Are you ok? Geez, even the cadence of his voice attracted me to him.

I might as well stop breathing now.

I – I think so, I managed.

You’re Hannah, right? he asked while bending down to retrieve the books at my feet. I was grateful for the chance to suppress the look of shock. How was it possible an awe-inspiring Adonis like him had any recollection of me, the plainest of Janes.

He stood to set the books on the cart behind him.

I nodded and fidgeted with the scrap of paper still in my hand. Yeah. I’m – sorry, I guess I don’t remember meeting you.

He smiled. Probably because we never have. I’m Spencer Rush, but everyone just calls me Rush. He offered his right hand.

Though jitters endeavored to smother the attempt, I somehow managed to return his handshake, still undecided if the tremors were brought on from the near-concussion, or his presence. Maybe a little of both.

Ridiculous. I had to gain composure.

I inhaled deep, tucked my hair behind my ear, and tried for cool and collected small-talk. So, if we’ve never met, how’d you know my name?

Casually, he leaned back against the stacks and crossed his ankles, tucking both hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. The look was GQ-meets-boy-next-door, and it made my toes curl in my shoes.

We’re in Zimmerman’s class together. I sit a couple rows behind you.

My eyes wandered up to the ceiling with a nod. I tried to place him in class, but couldn’t. Amazingly. How could I not remember a face like his? Again, I blamed the immense attraction on the recent head trauma and offered a polite smile as I returned to my book hunt, but he continued.

It’d be hard not to notice the prettiest, and smartest, girl in class.

All at once, my face tingled. I had to turn away from him. There’s a reason why Scarlet was a dreaded nickname from my past.

He smiled and asked, Can I help you find something?

Oh, you work here?

Of course he works here, Hannah. My mind rolled her eyes at me. Why else would he be restocking shelves?

Yeah, it’s part of my work-study gig. Assistant librarian, slash, book-reshelver. It’s, in fact, one of the most mind numbing experiences I’ve ever encountered. Well, except for today. His smile reached his eyes and I adored the kiss of a dimple it created in his left cheek.

Whew, I was definitely in over my head with this one. If his good looks weren’t enough of a draw, the casual yet sexy tone of his banter was certain to do me in.

That’s ok, I breathed. It should be right around here, somewhere.

He stood up straight then and turned around to face the rows of books I searched. What’s the title? I’ll help you look.

Exalitrote. Out of my peripheral, I saw his head snap to me, like he knew the name. I went on to explain anyway, feeling the need to defend my search of weird books on alien ancestry. I didn’t want him thinking I made a habit out of reading kooky accounts on out-of-this-world encounters, as part of my favorite pastime. It’s by Herbert Walson. I need it for my Astrobiology class.

I could feel his eyes still on me, so finally I chanced a look at him, but he looked away.

I know, it sounds weird, I defended with an airy-chuckle.

No, it’s not weird. That’s actually a pretty interesting class. I took it last semester. I just haven’t heard that title in a really long time, is all. His hand rested on the shelf near his head and his hushed voice turned even quieter as he leaned an inch closer. It’s been out of print for years. And all the copies were actually ordered to be destroyed. I doubt it’s even here anymore.

I felt my eyebrows pull together while my lungs let out a nervous huff. What are you talking about?

His lips pulled into his mouth and he shifted on his feet. The uh, publishing company. They recalled the title a few years ago. I don’t know – something about the information represented was, his hand waved in the air, inaccurate?

My face crinkled even more. Ok. But wouldn’t that apply to just about every book on the topic? I mean, it’s not like any of that alien mumbo jumbo is true. Why would a publishing company do that? They don’t like profiting off weird and fascinating books anymore, or what? My head shook again. It doesn’t really make sense, does it?

Rubbing his brow, his lips pursed. No. It doesn’t, does it? He shrugged. I don’t know what else to tell you. But I can suggest a few others that might interest you, instead?

I waved off his offer and turned back to my search. That’s ok. I’m going to keep looking. The catalog said it’s in stock and it should be right around here. Thanks anyway.

I figured he’d return to his restocking act, but he stayed there, leaning into his arm against the shelf. Trying in vain to ignore his presence, I ran my fingers along the call numbers.

14692… 14697… 14698. Ahaaa, I whispered triumphantly. Found it.

He jumped at my achievement and shouted, Are you serious? Ripping the book from my hands, he flipped it over, then back again, and began thumbing through the pages. His voice lowered back down to library etiquette, but he continued the frantic examination, making little effort to hide his annoyance. It’s not supposed to be here.

And yet it is. I crossed my arms and sighed, then reached for it. Can I have it back, please?

His head shook, and without even bothering to look at me he explained, No. It was ordered to be destroyed.

My eyes widened at his seriousness, and I had to clamp my jaw shut to prevent it from dropping to the floor. Oooookay… but seeing as how only the two of us know about it, I shrugged, I don’t really see the problem. So… I reached for it again and grasped the corner of the open cover, let me just have it over the weekend, and I promise to return it to you on Monday – for destruction, of course. I smirked as I batted my eyelashes in the flirtiest way I could muster. After all, he did say I was the prettiest girl in Zimm’s class, right?

Finally pausing his frenzied assessment, he turned to look at me softer then. Hannah, I’m sorry. As much as I’d like to help you, it’s just not possible. Ever so gently, he removed my hand from the book but continued the touch. Then his eyes darkened, like a cloud passed by overhead, even though we were inside. They took on a stern smolder. A feeling of grave urgency entered in the space between us. His voice lowered to a deep baritone as coercion replaced charm. The sudden gravity shook me, deep down in my soul. You will forget all about the existence of this book and Herbert Walson in general. None of this ever happened. Go about your day as otherwise planned.

There it was. The defect. All hotties have at least one. His just happened to be weirder than most.

Perhaps I should have been more alarmed. But truth be told, I was just confused. And a bit dumbfounded, to say the least. My brows lifted high into my bangs at his determination. Ok. What is this, Rush? Some kind of Svengali, persuasion-y, sort of technique? How’s it working out for you?

He said nothing while his eyes creased and his head tilted infinitesimally to the side.

But then he stood up straight again with a long inhale, and released my hand. I clutched it with my other in front of my chest, my stomach had officially turned to knots.

At least his face relaxed to beautiful again. Uh – sorry. Just forget about it. He was already turning to leave, but I stopped him.

You’re really not letting me have it?

The audacity.

Without looking at me, he paused at the end of the aisle and turned just enough I could see his profile. No. I’m sorry, but… no. His head shook again. I need to take it to my supervisor. Let me know if you’d like another recommendation, he added while continuing on his way.

I huffed.

Fantastic. Now what am I supposed to do?

My lips set in a hard line as I threw a hand in the air, letting it smack my leg on its way back down.

Weird as he was, I was actually kind of sad to see him walk away. The throbbing above my temple reminded me my feelings may only be due to the injury I’d sustained. But I felt myself wanting to follow him.

The subliminal realist in my mind screamed her little voice at me, raised her little hands, waving them wildly over her head, while blowing her whistle on all the red flags he raised. But all the nagging questions I had about the guy, and now the book, muted her to silence.

I had no clue why he didn’t let me have it. Nor why he cared so much about a stupid book in the first place. But he obviously did not want me to have it. That much was clear. And of course it only made it that much more desirable.

I wanted to follow him. I had to.

I needed the book for the extra credit. And I needed to know why he cared about it so much.

I had to get it back from him. Yep, I had to.

So naturally, as any intelligent girl lacking momentary judgment would do, I followed him – covertly of course.

It took me the length of two aisles to catch up with the sight of him walking on the other end of the bookshelves. If I stayed one aisle behind him I could just see the tip of his head moving as I looked through the rows of books.

Hiding behind the last row, I felt the eyes of curious on-lookers watching me. But it didn’t matter. I couldn't care less about what I looked like to the rest of the library population right now. For all they knew, I could just be some creepy, stalker, ex-girlfriend. Not the creepy, stalker, alien-book-fiend I was apparently transforming into.

I watched him walk through a back door, where I assumed his supervisor's office was located.

Waiting a few breaths after the door closed, I then made a beeline for the six-inch window-panel of the metal door he exited. Peering through the wire-meshed glass pane, I could see this back hallway had two closed wooden doors, no glass panels – unfortunate for stealthy operations – and an open doorway which appeared to lead to another hallway.

Placing one hand on the door knob, I started to feel like I was breaking the rules or something. I didn't see an employees only sign marking the door, but I still felt nervous butterflies dance around in my stomach. Sneaking a quick look over my shoulder, I took a deep breath for confidence sake, then turned the handle as quietly as possible. Once inside the hall, I had no other option but to pass by the two closed doors, and proceed to what I originally thought was another hallway. As I approached the doorway, I began to hear a hushed voice talking, though I was still too far away to pick up any distinct words.

Deciding I would be less noticeable by crouching down, I swung my messenger bag around to my back, leaned over my bent knees, hugged the wall, and peeked around the corner.

Eureka. The staff break room.

Rush stood in front of a set of grey metal lockers, back facing me. He fumbled with his backpack inside an open locker while talking to someone on his cell phone.

How am I supposed to know how it got here? His whispers were frantic. The point is, I have it now... Yes, I'm leaving right now... No. As luck should have it, I saw a guy pull out the book beside it. It fell to the ground and he put it on my restocking cart. No harm done, thankfully… Yeah, I'm taking it back to my place now. I'll see you when you get here in the morning. He hung up the phone and stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans. I saw him place the book – my book – into his backpack and zip it up.

Ogling him as he put on a black leather jacket, the kind with a dark grey faux hoodie built in, I lingered just long enough for it to dawn on me – holy crap, he's going to see me.

As quietly as possible, I practically ran on my tiptoes and opened the nearest wooden door. Whatever was on the other side of it was of no importance to me at the moment. I threw it open, jumped inside and leaned my back against the door after it closed. I tried desperately to hear his footsteps over the deafening sound of my pulse which beat its rhythm against the percussion set that apparently occupied my ears.

What in the world am I supposed to tell him when he finds me in here? God, this was such a stupid idea.

My chest heaved with nervous agitation.

Finally I heard foot steps round the corner approaching my safe haven. Or what I hoped was a safe haven.

I chanted inwardly. Please keep walking, please keep walking. Don’t open this door.

Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I bit down on the inner-flesh of my lips. The footsteps grew louder until they were right outside my door... but they never stopped. I heard them grow faint, then pause as the door at the opposite end of the hall opened and shut again.

Then… silence.

My lungs collapsed as I released the breath I didn't know I was holding.

Opening my eyes revealed I was in the janitor’s closet. I breathed a sigh of gratitude to my lucky star – wherever it may be – and cracked open the door just wide enough to look up and down the hall. Although I could only see along the wall opposite me, I felt pretty comfortable to venture outside my hidey-hole. So I finished opening the door and turned the corner on my way back to the library to catch up with the gorgeous book thief.

But as I did, my heart choked me when I nearly collided with a leather-clad wall of muscle.

There he was. Standing right there in front of me.

Kill me.

Once again, the form of Rush’s casual yet exquisite body leaning back against the wall, ankles crossed – but this time only one hand in a pocket, the other gripping the strap of his backpack he had slung over one shoulder – practically left me breathless.

Hi, was all he said, grinning. He knew he caught me.

I tried my best not to smile back as his playful brows arched. But instead, crossed my arms and squinted my eyes while looking up at him. "Hi yourself. I guess you knew I was following you, huh?"

His chin dipped down and to the side while raising the opposite eyebrow. An unspoken way of communicating, duh. The real question is, why were you following me?

Why did you lie to me?

Do you always answer questions with another question?

I thought you said you were bringing the book to your supervisor? Looks to me like you've changed your mind. Somehow my head and neck adopted a Jersey-girl swagger, and attached it to that last sentence. I couldn’t say I hoped it’d stick around. But with this guy, there’s no telling.

His eyes dropped to the floor in between us. I can't discuss this with you. Sorry. But how about we grab some coffee and I'll help you write that paper.

I paused briefly to absorb his offer, but then regained my sense of petulance and accused him, ticking off one finger to solidify my resolve. "Ok, first of all, why can't you discuss this with me? What is there even to discuss about a stupid book? The fact of the matter is, for whatever reason, you really don't want me to have it. Maybe you're just planning on hogging it all to yourself so you can use the most interesting stories for your own paper. But that's not fair at all, seeing as how I found it first. And second of all, I ticked two fingers, why on Earth would I agree to let you help me? How do I know the help you offer isn't for some other kind of selfish gain? Do you even know anything about the subject at all?"

The relaxed smile playing at his eyes, assured me he was amused. You sure are cute when you get riled up.

I exhaled sharply through my nose and shook my head. I felt desperate to hide the emotions bound to be written all over my face attesting to the fact I liked him saying that about me. A lot.

Ok, so, first of all, he mimicked my gesture of ticking off one finger, I have no interest of 'hogging this book all to myself', air-quoting my original line with two fingers of both of his hands, "as I have no need to write a paper on it at