Love Unbounded

By Hadley Quinn

Love has no bounds. Our dreams have endless possibilities.

I’ve always believed in both but didn’t realize I’d get hit with them at the same time. I only have time for one right now, and being swept away by an unexpected romance doesn’t fit in my plans. When the offer comes to intern at Harmony Acres, I can’t pass it up. It’s my dream job—the step I need to achieve my career goals.

But HE is a rush of everything I shouldn’t be distracted by. He’s gorgeous and smart, and his ambition is a constant challenge. If it’s truly about the journey, that obviously doesn’t apply to me because…

I don’t want to wait for our different roads to agree on the same destination.

(18+ for sex and language)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hadley Quinn
• Release date: Jun 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386364849

Hadley Quinn

Hadley Quinn is the author of New Adult and Contemporary romance laced with plenty of humor and suspense. She has been writing novels for over ten years, publishing for the first time in 2012. Titles such as "Kiss This" of the bestselling McCallan series have gained momentum in the indie community and become the catalyst for her travels to book signings all over the country. Known for her memorable characters and clever story lines, Hadley keeps the reader engaged with plot twists and wit that will draw you into her fictional world

Book preview

Do what you love, and if you haven’t found what you love, follow your heart until you do.

Part One

1

"Nova, honey, fetch me a fresh one please," Robin instructed, setting the empty coffee pot on the counter.

I handed her one, and off she went for table four.

Clover’s Café was surely the underdog of the restaurant world, surrounded by larger chain restaurants that resided in the area to accommodate the tourists of California. Clover’s was situated just south of Valencia in Newhall, but across the freeway was evidence of a major theme park: hotels, motels, and established eateries. But even though the Burger King next door saw more customers in a day than Clover’s did in a week, it couldn’t compete with the charm of a small-time café.

At least in my opinion.

My aunt owned Clover’s. She and her husband opened the small establishment in 1994, mainly as a bakery and coffee shop. At the time, it was named Meryl’s Bakery, after my aunt. Three years ago, it gradually converted to a café, and when my mother died, Meryl changed the name to Clover’s Café in memory of my mom. It hadn’t been in my plans to be twenty-two and a waitress, but I learned long ago that I didn’t have much control over the things that happened in my life.

An elderly couple inched up to the counter, setting their bill in front of me with what appeared to be the exact amount.

Was everything okay? I asked as I entered the numbers into the register.

Huh? Oh, yes, yes, the man nodded. It’s a beautiful March day. He peered at my nametag, eyes squinting. Thank you, Nora.

"Oh, it’s, uh, Nova."

Huh?

Nova? With a ‘V’ in the middle.

He seemed confused as he blinked at me. Nova?

Yes, I nodded. I know it’s unusual.

Nora is such a pretty name, the woman smiled, not at all catching on to my clarification. That was my mother’s name.

Oh, yes, that’s a very nice name, I told her. Thank you for coming in today. I hope you visit again.

Say what? the woman asked loudly.

Thank you, come again, I said, matching her volume. A few diners glanced our way, but what was I supposed to do?

The pair shuffled away from the counter, but since there wasn’t anything else requiring my attention, I went to the door to hold it open for them.

They both smiled and thanked me for being such a dear. Bye, Nora, the woman waved.

Bye. I watched while they headed for a car. I tried picturing either one of them driving, and it was a scary thought.

I was just about to re-enter the café, but a group of four guys were walking along the sidewalk from the neighboring parking lot. They slowed when they got closer to me—I guess because I was just standing there with the door held open—but I could tell they were most likely headed for pizza two doors down.

Can I interest you guys in free sodas? I decided to ask.

They stopped in front of me, glancing at each other. One of them looked ahead at the pizza parlor, and then eyed our sign.

What do you guys have? he asked.

Great food. I smiled. Why don’t you come look at a menu? I’ll get you some drinks while you decide if you want to stay.

They side-eyed each other again, but thankfully shrugged their agreement. I led them inside and sat them at my favorite booth in the corner.

What would you like to drink? I handed them each a menu. I can take care of that for you, and then I’ll send Robin over to take your order.

Why Robin? one of them asked.

Excuse me?

He smiled as his eyes drifted to my nametag. Nova? Is that seriously your name?

Soda? I inquired. What would you like?

A few seconds of silence passed until they finally gave me their drink orders.

Robin came to the counter just as I set the last Coke on the tray, and then she gracefully but swiftly made her way to table ten. I almost forgot all about that table of guys until Robin stopped in front of the counter with her What the hell? face.

What? I asked.

She nodded to table ten. "They said to tell you they’d stay, but only if you’re their waitress."

I studied the table of guys while they stared at me with stupid smiles on their faces. I was instantly embarrassed but tried to shrug it off. I hated showing weakness.

I suppose I have to, I replied dryly. I kind of lured their asses in here.

Robin raised her lovely eyebrows. "Lured?"

I’ll tell you later. You wanna switch for a bit?

Fine with me.

When I approached table ten, they were still smiling at me.

So, what would you like to try? I asked, ready to take their orders.

Can we get, like, a buy-one-get-one-free deal or something? the one guy asked. He was the same big mouth that seemed to do all the talking once they’d entered the café.

I’m kind enough to offer you free drinks and you still want to squeeze me for more? Are you really that cheap?

The other guys laughed, making exclamations that their buddy just got burned.

No, I’m not fucking cheap, he retorted with a play-it-cool smile. I just thought you were a little sweeter than that.

Two of them chuckled and waited for my reply, their heads bobbing between us like they were watching a tennis match.

I’m not, so what would you like to eat?

I patiently waited for a response—I was expecting another request, or maybe an insult—but the quietest guy in the far corner said, I’ll have the avocado burger, please.

Sure, I replied, jotting it down.

Uh, bacon burger with extra bacon, another guy said.

Beef and cheese melt.

I looked at the last guy, Big Mouth, and he glanced at the menu and pointed. The jalapeño burger. And I want your hottest sauce on it.

I wrote it down while I said, Our fire sauce is pretty hot. You want it on the side?

No, I want it on the burger, he smirked arrogantly. Double.

Sure thing. I was smiling to be polite of course, but I was also picturing this guy’s face once he bit into Clover’s double-sauced jalapeño burger.

When I set his order in front of him twenty minutes later, I also set two extra glasses of water next to his plate. If you find that two isn’t enough, just wave me down and I’ll bring you another.

He scoffed. Seriously? For a jalapeño burger?

No, for the extra hot sauce.

It can’t be that hot, he argued.

It’s really hot. I set the other plates on the table and asked, Can I get you guys anything else? More Coke?

Two of them agreed, so I took their glasses for a refill. That’s where Robin murmured, How’s college corner going for you?

Well, the guy on the end in the blue shirt is probably going to be suing us any second now.

She laughed. Nova, you getting feisty with the customers?

A little, but he wanted double the fire sauce.

Double? she gaped. Roger put it on the side, right?

No, the little shit insisted it go on the burger—

"Ahh-ahh!"

Robin and I followed the sound of panic, and we watched a hand rush for the glass of water. The other guys were laughing their asses off—which was okay because they were all friends, I suppose—but Robin and I had to turn away to stifle our snickering.

I tried to straighten my face as I grabbed a glass of milk.

2

I set down the soda refills, not wanting to get involved in what was going on at the table. They were watching their buddy with intrigue, and glancing at me at the same time. Mr. Nothing-Is-Too-Hot-For-Me was trying to toughen up to save face, but he ultimately had to reach for the water again.

This’ll work better, I said, setting the glass of milk in front of him.

He immediately took it, and half a glass later released a loud breath of air. Yeah, that works much better.

The rest of the table was still snickering, but I was honestly worried the guy was going to throw a fit about the incident.

Holy shit, that was hot! he exclaimed. What the hell do you put in that stuff?

Ah, that’s top secret, I winked. But would you like another burger? —Without the hot sauce?

What for?

In case you’d rather taste it without the fire in your mouth.

"Oh no, that was awesome. I think I’ve finally found a fire sauce that’s actually fire."

I was surprised by his reply, but thankful at the same time. I’ve never tried it, but I hear it gets easier to handle after each bite.

How come you’ve never tried it?

I’m not that dumb, I joked.

The group laughed, and the same guy said, You should try it. He held the burger up.

Nah, that’s okay. I’m not really the hot sauce-loving kind of person. I like to taste my food.

Brock puts hot sauce on everything, one of them said. Eggs, sandwiches, spaghetti...

I grimaced because just the thought of it sounded gross. We did have customers who liked to put Tabasco sauce on their food, just not Clover’s fire sauce.

Well if you’re a big boy and eat all your food, maybe I’ll bring you a souvenir, I told Brock, and then I left them alone.

Had I realized they were going to stay for two hours, I might not have coerced them into the café. No, that’s not actually true, but my shift was over at two o’clock, and that’s when they wanted to order dessert. It was great—we liked customers to stay and eat—but normally I’d be able to leave once my shift was up. When Phoebe arrived, I had to explain why I couldn’t leave just yet, and she thought that was just hilarious.

Is there anything else I can get for you? I asked the table of guys (hopefully) for the last time.

Your phone number? Brock replied.

Hmm, can’t seem to remember it, I said, clearing the dessert plates.

The others laughed.

Does that go for all of us or just him? another guy asked.

I didn’t respond to that, and I refrained from making eye contact as I laid their bill on the table. I also pulled a small bottle of hot sauce from my apron and set it down. There’s for your eggs, sandwiches, spaghetti and...whatever else you’re crazy enough to put that stuff on.

Brock picked it up to look it over. Really? Wow, thanks.

Sure. Have a great weekend, guys.

And with that, I took my tray to the back and unloaded the dirty dishes for Mario to take care of.

See you Monday, Nova, he said to me. Don’t get too crazy studying books all weekend.

I rolled my eyes but waved with a smile. By the time I returned to the counter, the four guys were gone. Phoebe looked like she might have just rung them up, so I went to table ten to finish cleaning it up. I did a double take when I saw the fifty-dollar bill in the middle of the table.

Phoebe, did those guys already pay their tab?

Yep, they just left. They also wanted to make sure you got your tip, she said, pointing to the table.

My tip? I asked, holding up the fifty.

Her mouth dropped open. You’re kidding me! What exactly did you do for them? I rolled my eyes, but she only laughed and said, Take it and run, honey, before they change their mind. See ya, Nov.

And so, I left that day with my first fifty-dollar tip. I’d been left a twenty once or twice, and a ten on occasion, but never a fifty. It really made my day—my week, even—and I was very happy to stick it in an envelope to deposit at the bank with my other tips for that week.

I showered and put on some comfortable clothes. I’d originally planned on going for a jog when I got home, but I was too tired. Sitting in the family room with a book while my Uncle Scott watched baseball on TV seemed like a much better choice.

Whatcha studying now? he asked.

I closed the book slightly to show him the cover.

"Canine Reproduction, he read. Hmm."

Not interested? I teased.

Nope, he replied. But then he smiled and said, If only the time you read could count toward your field hours.

No kidding. Or even half.

Did you hear back from, uh...? What was the doctor’s name in Burbank?

Ross. And he’s already working with a student.

Well...I think you’ll have enough money for Davis. It’ll be okay.

I appreciated his optimism, but I wasn’t in the position to even apply for a veterinarian school. I still needed to finish my credits in the pre-vet program that I started at Pierce. After that, I could apply for veterinary school and maybe be on my way to achieve my career goal.

It wasn’t exactly unattainable, especially if I could save up enough money for UC Davis when the time came. As it was now, ten credits at a time was not the quickest route to go. But three days a week was all I could give if I was also working at the diner full time to make it happen. My ideal job would be interning at an actual veterinarian clinic, or something in that field, but I still wasn’t able to get my foot in a door.

But working for my aunt had allowed me a place to live after my mom died. I didn’t have many options, and frankly, I just wasn’t in the position to even make any decisions at that point. So, when Meryl insisted I move from San Fernando to Santa Clarita, I just numbly went along with it. My mom and I had only lived in an apartment, but I didn’t have the money to go to school anymore let alone pay rent on my own.

After a few months had passed, Meryl asked if I could start helping at the café. I didn’t want to at first, but decided it was the least I could do to help pay for the room I was occupying in their house, and I was hoping it would take my mind off missing my mom. It took a couple months to get used to the diner life, but after a while, I kind of liked it. I enjoyed the people who came in and I liked the employees I worked with.

It took another year before I even considered returning to school, but now I commuted thirty minutes south to college three days a week and worked at the café whenever I could. It was a busy life, and I really didn’t do much besides school and waitressing, but all I could do was have my career goal in mind, and take it one day at a time.

My future was still to be decided.

3

A few days later, Tuesday, I entered Clover’s at three o’clock. I’d been at school for the morning—two classes and then some time in the library. I usually didn’t mind working a full dinner shift on my school days because I’d been sitting for most of the morning, but that day I hadn’t been able to shake a headache since waking up.

Hope you’ve got your game face on, Robin said as soon as she saw me.

I gave her a pitiful not feeling up to it face.

Buck up, sister. Table ten has been waiting for you for almost two hours.

What? I peeked out from the kitchen as I tied my apron behind my back. It was those four guys again, the ones from a few weeks ago that I’d bribed with free drinks.

At least the frat boys are returning customers now, Robin grinned.

What do you mean they’ve been waiting for me for two hours?

They got here just after one, asked if you were here, and I said you usually didn’t get here until three on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

And they just waited?

"Yep. I mean they’ve had appetizers and drinks, but they said they’d wait to order. They’ve been waiting for you."

I wasn’t sure what to think. I mean, it wasn’t that I hadn’t had a fan or two since I’d worked at the diner, but maybe I was a little overwhelmed by the four of them together.

Nova, this could be a good thing, honey, Robin tried to assure me. You can’t expect that they’ll leave an enormous tip every time, but who knows, right? Think about your future, your education.

She smiled at her ploy to play the right notes with me, and I had to laugh. But no matter the customer, I still had a job to do, so I took a deep breath and clocked in.

So, is this going to be a regular thing, fellas? I asked lightly as I approached table ten. You’re taking valuable work experience away from my co-workers just to pester me?

You’re calling us pests? asked Brock, still the big mouth. Where’s your manager? he asked, looking around the room. I’d like to file a formal complaint.

I don’t think it would do much good being that you’ve been here waiting for me for...two hours?

We wait for our favorite waitress and you’re going to hold it against us? I’m hurt, he pouted, sticking out his lower lip.

Yeah, so anyway...what can I get for you guys?

"Actually, we’d like for you to settle a bet for us first, and then we’ll order."

I raised an eyebrow, not liking the sound of that at all.

Just a simple question, he added.

Fine, one question.

He glanced at the other guys before he asked, How old are you? See, ‘cause I’m guessing you’re probably nineteen, Will is going with twenty, Austin thinks twenty-two, and Flynn is thinking you’re barely eighteen.

I looked over each guy as he pointed, finally getting some names in my head. Then I looked at Brock and asked, And what are the stakes?

Fifty bucks.

I raised an eyebrow again. Hmm, so if someone happens to be correct, they win the fifty bucks?

"No, we each put in fifty bucks. Winner gets two hundred."

Two hundred dollars? For guessing my age? I scoffed.

Yep.

And what if you guys are all wrong?

Are we? You can’t possibly be over twenty-one, and if you’re under eighteen, I feel like an asshole.

Which is why he needs this bet settled, Will told me with a smile.

I looked over each of the guys at the table. Of course, Brock was the forward one. Kind of cute but I think he knew that. Flynn seemed to be a little on the goofy side. He reminded me of Bart Simpson. Maybe it was his hair and wide mouth. Will and Austin appeared to be fairly normal, and Austin was even better looking than Brock. But Austin was also the quietest one, and I think that intrigued me.

"Well, one of you actually is right," I eventually said.

Oh, thank God, Brock exhaled with relief. So, who is it?

Ah, no, no, no, I toyed, waving my finger at them. This seems a little unfair to me.

How so?

"I’m about to win someone two hundred bucks just by saying how old I am? This person is going to win a bet based on me. So...why don’t I get a cut?"

After Brock seemed to silently deliberate with each of them he said, Okay, that’s fair enough. Whoever’s correct spends that money taking you out on a date, he smiled triumphantly.

I laughed out loud. Are you serious?

As a heart attack, he grinned.

How is that fair to me? Wouldn’t it be easier to just give me half the winnings? I mean the guy is still making money on the deal, and without the hassle of the date.

Nah, that defeats the purpose.

And what’s the purpose? I looked at each of them but no one wanted to answer. However, their smiles said it all and I had to roll my eyes, realizing they had played me perfectly. Nice plan, boys—really, I do like it—but I’m not interested, okay?

And she goes for the kill, right to each of our tiny hearts, Flynn cringed dramatically.

Look, I need to get back to work. Can I please take your orders now?

Okay, okay, Brock said. How about this? You tell us your age, and then you get a choice. You can go out with that guy if you want, or you can just take the hundred bucks. Does that sound fair? He made the rounds to see if each guy agreed, and they all nodded or shrugged. Then he looked at me and added, And if you choose the money, no big deal, okay? We won’t take offense, and we’ll still come be your favorite customers.

I actually smiled at that. I was wondering what Brock did for a living because he was quite gifted in his interactions with people.

"Okay, here’s my offer, and you guys can agree to it or not. I’ll tell you my age, and I’ll make the choice between the money or the date, but first, each of you tell me your ages and what you’re studying in school or what you do for a living. If you actually have a job," I added.

Oh, she’s a feisty one, Brock smiled.

I only shrugged.

Hmm, it’s a two-question interview, boys. She wants to know what her options are. Should we agree to it? They took a few seconds to consider it, and then Brock said, Sure, we’ll play. I’ll go first. With a cheesy smile he said, I’m Brock, I’m twenty-two, and I’m studying law at USC.

Hmm, future lawyer? Not a big surprise.

Will? You’re up, buddy, he said.

Uh, I’m also twenty-two, and I’m a history major at Davis.

Flynn shrugged. Twenty-one, and I’m in animation.

I tried not to react because I pictured him drawing the Simpsons.

Austin? Brock motioned. Which career would you like to share with the lovely lady?

Austin paused briefly. I’m twenty-three and, uh, in business.

Two of them chuckled, and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to take that. Maybe business meant something I didn’t want to hear.

So? Brock smiled at me. Now it’s your turn.

I took a moment before I replied, I’m twenty-two.

There were various reactions—apparently it had been quite a debate—and three of them slid money across the table to Austin. But I was kind of surprised he didn’t really have much of a reaction at all. He didn’t even touch the money, and took a drink of his water instead.

Well, I’d better get back to work guys. Please give me your orders, if you still plan on staying.

Thankfully they did order, and when I finally left the table, I had to take several deep breaths to calm my nerves.

Holy shit, spend much time at table ten? Robin hissed.

A mix of embarrassment and irritation raced through me. I didn’t feel like responding, so I just gave the order to our cook and busied myself with another table.

We got busy after that—two separate groups of six came in—and I only gave table ten the necessary amount of attention. Robin was cashing them out as I breezed by, and just when I thought the coast was clear, someone caught my arm.

It was Austin, and without saying a word, he put two fifty-dollar bills in my hand. I didn’t know what to say. Maybe I was waiting for Brock to make some sort of response for the group, but he seemed a bit subdued. Nobody spoke until they were to the door and Austin said, See ya, Nova.

I felt a bit stupefied by the turn of events.

Why the frowny face? Robin asked. One of them say something mean, sweetie?

No, they just...I don’t know. I’ll explain it to you later.

So, I did go over the whole situation with Robin when we had a few minutes—from the bet to all four guys leaving me with the money.

Did you actually want to go out with him? she asked. Just say so, Nova.

"No, I just...I don’t know why I’m confused. Maybe they were disappointed with the outcome. I think it was Brock who wanted the date—you know, the forward one who asked for my number the first time? Maybe the whole thing was just about him hoping the odds were in his favor."

So who won the bet?

Austin.

Which one is that again?

He was sitting in the far corner again. The guy in the black shirt with the baseball hat on.

She started to laugh, and it truly confused me. I felt insecure at the same time since I thought she was laughing because the guy was a dickwad or something.

"What’s so funny? He’s actually hot. Kind of quiet, but really good-looking."

I know.

I gave her a peculiar look.

"Nova, he’s been in here before. Without his buddies. He comes in here by himself."

What?

Yeah, I’ve seen him two other times. The last two Fridays for lunch.

I was working the last two Fridays.

She laughed again. I know. That’s why I think it’s funny. You didn’t even recognize him without his friends.

I had to take a moment to think it over, wondering what it was supposed to mean. Well...where did he sit?

Two, she replied, nodding to the opposite end of the café.

I took instant insult, feeling like he purposely chose to have a different waitress.

Thankfully, table six motioned for more coffee, so I grabbed the pot to keep my thoughts occupied.

4

"Nova, try not to screw it up this time," Levi teased.

I gave him a playful shove. Be nice. This is only my second time.

You’re doing fine.

He sat back on the park bench and crossed his arms over his chest while I readjusted the camera lens. Another kid at the skate park took his position at the top of the half pipe, and I anticipated his movement. I snapped a shot just as he completed a backside 360.

I looked over the photo on the LCD screen, and then showed it to Levi.

Not bad. Try it again, anticipating just a second sooner.

The same kid was still working the half pipe, so as he began an airwalk grab, I took the shot.

Levi looked it over and smiled. Nice. Now you’re ready to be my assistant.

Ha. I’ll need more time getting to know your camera.

Mm, it’s not hard. Or you can always cheat and switch it to auto. He flipped a switch on the camera and handed it back to me with a grin.

I cast him a scowl before raising the camera to the half pipe again, and took an easy picture. Did you just want me to fail first?

Nope, I just wanted you to learn the real way. Almost anyone can take a picture these days with all the fancy cameras there are, but to truly learn photography skills is more beneficial. Next time, we can try out some vintage cameras.

That sounds like a plan.

We went back to photographing the skate park, but while I took a phone call, Levi wandered toward the group of kids to talk to them. One of the boys was his younger cousin, Grier, and the other four were Grier’s friends.

The call was from work. Phoebe was sick and went home early. Ava was out of town for the day, and Becca had her little boys to watch, so the only feasible option was calling me in early. Normally I’d have no problem filling in—the other ladies had done it for me before—but I was having a good time with Levi at the park and didn’t want to leave.

But... Yes, of course I’ll be there, I told Robin. I glanced at my watch. Just give me about twenty minutes.

I joined Levi at the half pipe, and frowned. I have to go into work early. I’m sorry.

Oh.

Um, do you mind taking me there and I’ll just get a ride home later?

No, that’s fine. He said departing words to the boys at the ramp, and then headed back to the bench. He grabbed his camera bag, and put the camera away while we walked to his truck.

I’m sorry, I said.

Oh, don’t worry about it. I had a good time.