Changed

By Alicia Renee Kline

It was only supposed to be a one night thing...

Will Delaney and Gracie Alexander are little more than acquaintances when fate lands them in same place at the same time. One drunken hookup later, they decide that the best course of action for all involved is to pretend it never happened.

Will’s recently divorced. Gracie’s perennially single.

Upon first glance, they have absolutely nothing in common.
They both agree on one thing: they’re not looking for a relationship.

The only problem is that they can’t seem to stay away from each other.

Can two people who have sworn off love forever find it in the most unexpected place?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alicia Renee Kline
• Release date: Apr 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311325280

Alicia Renee Kline

Alicia Renee Kline has been writing for as long as she can remember. Her work has evolved from scrawling story ideas in spiral notebooks in loopy, middle school handwriting (complete with scribbles) to more professional looking fare via her laptop. She is eternally grateful for the "delete" key, so that no one can tell that she doesn't get everything right the first time.She resides in Northeastern Indiana with her husband, two daughters, two cats and two hamsters. When she isn't being an author, she works full time in the insurance industry.

Book preview

Prologue

Chris Taylor rolled over in bed, still trying to wrap his head around the events of the past twenty-four hours. The announcements had been made: first a call to his parents, then to Matthew and Will. Blake had done her part by contacting Gracie, then as if she’d just made lunch plans, she’d curled back up into the warm blankets and fallen back asleep.

They were getting married. Today. It had all happened so fast his brain was still slightly scrambled. But his wife-to-be looked as peaceful as he’d ever seen her.

He watched her now, taking in her beauty as she slept. The blond hair that spilled over her shoulders, streaked with a bright ocean blue that he’d only now grown used to. Her full lips were positioned in what could best be described as a smile, a rosy contrast to her porcelain skin. What really caught his eye, though, wasn’t anything that could be considered a feature.

His gaze was firmly fixed on her left hand, resting on top of his comforter. Specifically on her ring finger, graced now with the small diamond that had taken up residence in his underwear drawer for countless years. Seeing it there, where it truly belonged, was a sight that he wouldn’t have banked on ever happening. Until it had.

The proposal hadn’t been epic, nothing like he’d envisioned during the ten years since he’d purchased the engagement ring. With that much lead time, one would have thought that the moment would have been scripted to perfection. But there were no candlelit confessions of love, no horse drawn carriages, no hundreds of sunflowers or diamond rings floating in glasses of champagne.

Technically, he hadn’t been the one to even broach the subject. Did it still count as him asking for her hand in marriage when she’d propositioned him first? It didn’t really matter; the outcome was the same. Less than a calendar day after the truth had been revealed about what his intentions were - had always been - they were going to the courthouse to make it legal.

Chris pulled her sleeping form into his arms, molding his body against hers. Blake moaned softly, turning into his embrace. Instinctively, her hand reached for him, her fingers lacing with his as if she’d had no doubt they’d be beside her, as though they’d done this hundreds of times.

Good morning, angel, he whispered. He buried his face into her hair, then pushed it away to trail kisses down her neck. He heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her shiver beneath his touch.

Good morning, she replied, her voice still groggy from sleep. Wedding day or not, she’d never been a morning person. She rubbed at her eyes, working to clear her vision. Then, as though it had just dawned on her where she was and what the day held for them, those eyes sprung to life. What time is it?

Time to get up and start planning. We’ve got quite a bit to accomplish in the next couple of hours. Unless you want to get married in your pajamas.

Blake cracked a grin, rolling away from him and out of his bed. I only brought slutty ones with me, so I certainly hope not.

You’re sure about this, right? Chris asked. He moved from his own perch on the bed to stand behind her.

About what?

About doing this.

About getting married? She stared down at the engagement ring on her hand, rubbing the stone with her right thumb as if to make sure it was truly there. Of course I am. Aren’t you?

Her face turned up to him, fear registering on her countenance until he dismissed it with a snort. I’ve only been waiting to ask you for ten years. See exhibit one. He gestured to her left hand. This elicited another smile.

So what exactly are you asking?

Are you sure about right now? With this ring that looks like it came out of a cereal box? We could get you something better, you know. And what about the dress that practically caused a mental break at the bridal store? Aren’t you dying to walk down the aisle in that? Don’t you really want a wedding with all the trimmings?

She shook her head adamantly. I don’t need any of it. I want this ring, because it’s mine. You picked it out for me and kept it all this time. And everything else I need, I have right here.

To demonstrate her point, she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him into a kiss that didn’t have the purest of intentions.

Perhaps they didn’t have to get ready just yet.

Chapter One

Flashbacks suck. I say this even as I’m about to subject you to one, as an apology of sorts. I’m sorry. There. But you know how people want to be shown things and not told stuff? Besides, I wouldn’t want you to think that Will and I have been sneaking around behind everyone’s back for ages, because we haven’t. Here’s what happened and how I got where I was when Blake called to share her news.

Having to be at work the next morning was a handy excuse for leaving your best friend’s house when the going got rough or the diapers got smelly, take your pick. Sadie and I had managed to peacefully coexist for the majority of the day at Matthew and Lauren’s place. I’d even held her for an hour or two, cradling her tiny body in my arms as she slept. Never mind the fact that Lauren had sat me down on the couch like a three year old first, making me hold still before she’d entrusted me with her newborn daughter. I couldn’t exactly fault her logic.

The baby was cute; I had to give it that. She had a way of captivating her parents, but the effect hadn’t yet rubbed off on me. There were no maternal instincts coursing through my veins while staring down upon her angelic face. No biological clock ticking restlessly in the back of my head. At twenty-five, I had plenty of time for all that. Later. Much later. Maybe never.

In any case, I’d done my duty and visited the happy little family at their house. I’d been a bit curious to see how the nursery had turned out, anyway. Blake had poured her heart and soul into that room and I’d been merely a pawn in her vision, armed with a paintbrush and a detailed list of directions. I liked the end result; the pictures Lauren had snapped on her phone and sent to me hadn’t quite done it justice.

And of course, I’d wanted to see my friend. Part of me knew that my relationship with Lauren would never be the same again. It had already evolved into something different once, when she’d gotten engaged to Matthew. The changes had only compounded when she turned up pregnant during their engagement and then again when they’d actually exchanged vows. Suddenly, there was a line drawn in the sand between the two of us: she was grown up now and I was left behind, what with my barely over the minimum wage job as a bank teller and my unattached lifestyle.

But Lauren and I were pros at handling change. We’d lived through it before when she’d gotten her promotion and moved from Indianapolis to Fort Wayne. Suddenly, she wasn’t my everyday lunch buddy at work. The distance hadn’t deterred us from remaining tight - no more than my hatred of her former boyfriend, Eric, had. We’d get over this bump in the road, too. And by we, I really meant me, because I was the one that had to adapt.

So I bowed out when given the opportunity. Sadie had been fed and changed and had nestled down into her crib for a few hours of sleep. Lauren had practically run into the kitchen to start dinner for herself and Matthew. It was like the countdown was on - she had to do something for the adults before the baby woke back up. I knew that she’d happily make enough to feed me as well, but I felt kind of guilty intruding on her alone time with her husband.

I fully intended to swing by one of the fast food windows conveniently located right off of the exit to the interstate and wolf something down as I sped down the highway on the two hour trek home. But then I remembered the gift card I’d won at work for my impeccable balancing record, good for more than I could eat in one sitting at one of those franchise grills that were always decorated to look like they were local. They could pretend all they wanted; they weren’t fooling anyone. Just like the bank didn’t fool me with their supposed gratitude at my ability to correctly count money. They were bribing me to stay without asking for a raise, twenty bucks at a time.

Being a Sunday night, I was a bit surprised at the amount of cars in the parking lot when I pulled in. It wasn’t like I truly had anywhere to go and free food was calling my name, so I parked and committed myself to waiting. I planned on just grabbing a seat at the bar - it was less conspicuous that way. I didn’t particularly like to eat alone at places like these. It led to bad things; usually some guy who’d had a bit too much to drink would proposition me and then I’d have to put him in his place. Sometimes I was gentle. Most of the time I was not.

I knew people stared at me. I commanded attention when I walked into a room. I deserved it even if I didn’t always want it. In my bare feet I hovered just below the five foot eight mark, and there weren’t many times that I didn’t strap on a pair of heels to accentuate my height. I was stick thin, but not like I needed to eat a hamburger. I had curves in all the right places and they were quite beautiful. Top that off with skin that looked like it had been airbrushed on, large brown eyes and a full head of flowing black hair and that was me.

Just to look at me, people assumed that I was a supreme bitch. Sometimes they were right.

But today, I was all sweetness and light as I informed the greeter at the door that I was just going to take a seat in the bar. I had my ID at the ready, knowing I’d be asked. Despite my attractiveness, it didn’t stop me from looking youthful and I got carded more often than not. One day I’d be flattered, but not this day.

I stuffed my driver’s license back into my oversized bag and took in my surroundings. That’s when I found him. That slightly curly mop of auburn hair caught my eye from across the room. He’d had the same idea as me - cozying up to the bar on one of the stools to hide the fact he’d shown up by himself. I paused for a second, watching him from afar and confirming it was actually Will and not a doppelganger prior to making my move.

In retrospect, I was really dumb to sneak up behind someone who regularly carried a gun and obviously knew how to use it, but I did it anyway. His eyes were laser focused on the television mounted on the wall in front of him so there was no need to act stealthy. Even so, I planned my route up to the bar carefully. My covert actions caught the attention of the bartender, who was just about to either welcome me or question my sanity until I raised my eyebrows and pressed my index finger to my lips. I then gestured over to my acquaintance on the stool and he seemed to get my message. Clearly he thought we were together.

He must have been psychic.

I held my breath as I came up behind Will, so close to him that I could smell whatever soap it was that he used. Then with a quick movement, I covered his eyes with my palms.

Guess who! I whispered into his ear. The just washed scent was even more pronounced from this position and it wasn’t an altogether bad thing.

His hands came up to grab my wrists, pulling mine away from his face.

Hi, Gracie, he responded.

I let out a little squeal of disappointment that I hadn’t stumped him and he laughed.

Is this seat taken? I asked, hopping onto the stool before he had time to answer. I placed my purse on the floor at my feet and rested my elbows on the mahogany slab in front of me. So how the hell are you?

He took a big drink of his beer before answering. It was in one of those huge glasses popular at the in places to be, given a quirky name on the menu to compensate for the fact that you were being royally overcharged.

I’ve been better, was his assessment.

My face fell a little bit, my formerly bubbly mood quickly tempered by the fact that he was anything but. I searched my brain for the reasoning behind his discontent. For all intents and purposes we didn’t really know each other; we’d just been thrown together at Matthew and Lauren’s wedding and hadn’t seen each other since. But in that moment in time, I’d decided that I liked him. He was a friend of a friend, if that, and nothing more.

When my eyes focused on the hand that clutched the frosty mug, I literally felt like slapping myself. The answer was right in front of me, given away by the indentation on his left ring finger. I’d heard rumblings of him being recently divorced or going through one currently, whatever. There wasn’t a need for a distinction. Either category would be enough to put someone in a foul mood.

I requested a basket of chicken fingers and settled back into my seat. During the time that the bartender had been taking my order, Will had turned his attention once again to the television.

Want to talk about it? I asked.

He shrugged.

I’m a good listener, I pressed.

So I’ve heard.

It comes with the territory. I know a lot of fucked up people. I keep a lot of secrets. I’ve often said that that’s why so many people name their dogs Gracie - because I’m man’s best friend.

This garnered a small smile from him. Not exactly what I was looking for, but it was a start. For some reason I had an intense desire to make him happy. Maybe it was because he looked so youthful and innocent - it wasn’t fair that he should be depressed. He reminded me of a teddy bear, not exactly the guy that dreams were made of, but someone you just wanted to reach over and hug because he was too damn cute. Cute things shouldn’t be sad.

I appreciate the offer, but it’s getting late and you’re miles from home. My sob story’s too long for a discussion over a couple of beers.

I toyed with the food that I’d been brought, debating what to do next. The part of me that didn’t self-edit won out. It usually did anyway, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. But he was when I gave my suggestion: Then let’s go across the street, get something stronger and take this party on the road.

I was referring to the grocery store across the plaza from our current location, open twenty-four hours and stocked with a vast array of adult beverages. He caught my drift, but with one phrase ruined my perfect plan.

You’ve forgotten that it’s Sunday in Indiana.

Damn. No carry out liquor sales.

Fuck, I said in confirmation.

Lucky for you, I have some good stuff at home. I just didn’t feel like drinking alone.

So you came to a bar, alone, so you could pretend that you weren’t?

It seemed logical at the time.

I guess it was, because I ran into you.

Yeah. So you can watch me get sloppy drunk and then laugh at me later.

I’ll join you. I’ll almost bet I can drink you under the table.

Again, your plan is flawed. As an officer of the law, I can’t condone that behavior. I’m not going to let you drink and then go off to Indy. Have we not learned anything from our friend Matthew?

This I was ready for. You’ve got a couch, right?

His brow furrowed.

I’ll sleep it off for a couple hours and then head home. I’m a big girl; give me a little more credit than that.

He stared at me, his green eyes clearly considering telling me no. He rubbed the coarse hair of his goatee and debated some more.

Fine. I’ll only have a couple. I’d feel bad taking all your booze anyway. You can give me a field sobriety test before I head out.

Will sighed before relenting. I’m sure I’ll regret this later, but okay.

I finished my dinner while he nursed another impossibly big, overpriced beer. While doing that, he gave me the rundown of his liquor supply at home. We decided to run across the street anyway and pick up a twelve pack of Coke to mix with the rum he remembered having. I told him I’d buy.

Another thought sprang to my mind in the grocery store as we stood in line with our small basket of stuff. In addition to the pop, we’d gathered a couple bags of potato chips. Nothing too elaborate. I’d thought of suggesting a half gallon of ice cream to go along with it, but figured that that was a stereotypical distraught woman thing. I wasn’t sure what guys did when they were down in the dumps.

True to my word, I forked over the cash once the cashier rang us up and told us the damage. Will had just grabbed my purchases off the bag carousel when I scrunched up my face and proceeded with the next step in my plan.

What’s wrong? he asked almost instantly.

I have to go to the bathroom.

My words were quiet, meek even, but he still rolled his eyes at me. Totally believable. I wanted to pat myself on the back, but that would have put an end to the ruse.

Can’t you just wait? My place isn’t that far.

I gave him a look that clearly told him no.

Fine, he huffed.

I’ll hurry, I promised.

Will headed towards the parking lot via the automatic doors to the right. I turned in the opposite direction, heading back to the general area where I recalled seeing the bathrooms when we came in. I snuck a couple of glances over my shoulder as I walked away. As soon as he disappeared from the store, I doubled back and moved quickly to my true destination: the pharmacy department.

I found what I was looking for and grabbed the box off the shelf, feeling sophomoric as I hurried over to the self-checkout lanes. Really, the act of me buying condoms wasn’t meant as an omen - it was strictly a precaution. I remembered the wisdom I’d spouted off to Blake and Chris about how sometimes a little conversation and a good screw could make everything right in the world. I wondered if it would help in this circumstance, too. Besides, it wasn’t like I was going to proposition him or anything - if I didn’t end up needing them, I’d pretend I’d never bought them. Or I could leave them as a parting gift. Whichever.

As I exited the store, I paused in the vestibule to stash the plastic bag containing my contraband into my purse. I knew I carried a huge handbag for a reason. He wouldn’t be the wiser.

Smiling to myself, I strode across the parking lot to where he waited for me, leaning against the driver’s side of his Jeep Wrangler. I hadn’t pictured him to be a Jeep kind of guy, but now that I saw him with it I supposed it kind of fit him.

Everything come out okay? he quipped.

Yep. So, lead the way.

We both got in our respective vehicles, him pulling out of the parking lot first of course. We stayed on the main drag through town and for a portion of the drive I knew exactly where I was. We passed Lauren’s work, the Italian restaurant that I’d been to a handful of times, one of the shopping centers that I’d gone to. No sweat so far. When my familiarity with the landmarks dissipated, I paid close attention to my surroundings. Even though we were still on the same street, the last thing I needed was to get lost on my way back home. GPS was handy, but it was no substitute for knowing where the hell you were going, especially in the middle of the night after having more than a few drinks.

We turned off right before we entered downtown Fort Wayne and its maze of one way streets. I wasn’t entirely out of sorts yet; I’d come this far a couple times, namely for Matthew and Lauren’s wedding. But the road he led me down I hadn’t traveled before. A couple family owned shops and storefronts littered both sides of the street, then gave way to a more residential setting.

The Jeep signaled again and I followed, going a short distance before he slowed to a crawl by a duplex with a cop car parked in front. I was concerned for a split second that perhaps he didn’t live in the best of neighborhoods until I realized that said police cruiser was likely his. Then I just felt stupid.

Immediately past the duplex was an alley; we took that and parked behind the structure in a makeshift parking area. The graveled over backyard provided room for about three vehicles, but it was a tight squeeze. A chain link fence bordered the property, making it feel even more claustrophobic.

Home sweet home, Will announced quietly as he stepped out of his Jeep. He reached across the front seat and grabbed the Coke and the chips, handing the bag over to me and carrying the twelve pack himself.

There apparently wasn’t a back door to his place, for he led me up the sidewalk that wrapped right back around to the front of the building. His place was on the left. Judging from the fact that there were no other cars parked around the duplex, the other side was either vacant or its occupants weren’t home. He hadn’t mentioned me taking someone’s parking place and I didn’t ask.

He unlocked the front door and led me inside, flipping on the light as we entered.

It’s not much, I know, he said almost apologetically, but it’s only temporary.

I snorted, then instantly felt bad. It hadn’t been meant as an insult, but rather as an admission that I knew exactly where he was coming from. I didn’t live in the lap of luxury, either. I wondered if he knew that already. In case he didn’t, I qualified my reaction.

It’s a veritable palace compared to my shoebox in Indy.

He relaxed at that, the tension noticeably removed from his shoulders as he led me into the kitchen. We set down our things and he moved about the room, trying to play host as I stood out of his way. In the tiny square footage, that wasn’t an easy task.

I swear I’m not a raging alcoholic, he informed me as he ran through his collection. He had quite a selection, though in various states of emptiness. Between everything on hand, the two of us could get sufficiently trashed.

And getting liquored up was exactly what we set out to do. I wasn’t going to pry into his personal life. I figured if he wanted to tell me about it, eventually he would. A little liquid courage might help the words come out more easily. I stayed one drink behind him, prepared to stop and listen as soon as he began to come clean.

It wasn’t like he had clammed up completely. We talked about stupid things: the weather, our jobs, the people we knew in common. He was pretty well-versed at the art of small talk. Coming from a bank teller, this was a huge compliment, since I could bullshit with the best of them. In my line of work, it was common to have entire conversations that lasted for several minutes about nothing - where I couldn’t care less about what the person was telling me, but I still was able to make them feel as if they were the most intriguing person to ever walk the face of the earth.

But for Will, I really was listening. Beneath all his talkativeness, there was evident loneliness. He was hashing out things with me because I was there lending him my ear. He likely hadn’t had someone to come home to and vent about his day to since things had gone sour with his ex-wife.

As I paid attention to his blabbering, a portion of my brain wondered what exactly their relationship had been like. If she was still in the picture, would he have been telling her the things he was now telling me? Or had she shut him out long ago and not shown interest in the mundane day to day activities of his normal life?

He seemed like such a nice guy that I couldn’t imagine anyone ever drifting apart from him. I began to create my own synopsis of what had disintegrated their marriage. Number one, she was obviously a bitch. Number two, she probably never sat with him at the kitchen table, drinking and shooting the shit like two people who were actually friends. Number three -

Gracie, he said, snapping me back to reality.

Hmmm?

It was probably a bad sign that even my sound effects were beginning to slur, but I was still in a better state than my companion. He grinned crookedly at me, his face turning red as he stared.

Will? I pushed again for a response, but he simply lowered his eyes to the table top. His head bobbed slightly, as if his neck were no longer strong enough to support it. I giggled despite my best efforts to play it straight. He joined me in laughter until we had both laughed for so long we’d forgotten what was funny.

Then, just as quickly, the mood turned serious. He turned to me, his green eyes deceptively sober looking and asked: Why couldn’t I have ended up with someone like you?

I was taking a swig of beer as he questioned this; his words caught me off guard and the bottle fell from my grip. It landed on the kitchen table nearly right side up, but when I moved to stabilize it, I ended up knocking it down. It rolled off the edge and clattered to the linoleum floor. Fortunately, it didn’t break, but it did leave a trail of cheap beer in its wake.

Fuck, I said, rising from my chair to take care of the mess.

Will had the same idea, only he was more practical about things and actually grabbed a towel before joining me at the scene of the spill. He handed it over to me, perhaps because I was already on my hands and knees. I accepted it and began to soak up the liquid, apologizing the whole time for my clumsiness. By the time order had been restored, inertia had taken over and I found myself having difficulty rising to my feet. The fact that I was smashed and wearing stilettos probably didn’t help either.

Will reached down and grabbed my wrist, pulling me upward in what could have been a graceful motion had he not staggered backwards into the wall. In doing so, he brought me with him. I ended up pressed against him. We stood frozen in place, eye to eye, chest to chest. If I wasn’t drunk enough already, I could have gotten intoxicated off of his breath.

You’re really pretty, he whispered.

Heat flooded my cheeks at his sincerity. I’d so often been the object of stares and attention from the opposite sex, but most guys went way over the top in their description. I’d heard them all: hot, sexy, beautiful, goddess-like, ethereal. But never pretty. Never anything so sweet and innocent.

He reached up to smooth my hair back from my face.