All for You (Rocktown Ink #5)

By Sherilee Gray

Another loss. Another goodbye.

I was looking for an escape from the pain, I found it in a crowded bar—in a pair of hungry blue eyes. One perfect night with a sexy, tattooed stranger. No names. No promises. No messy emotions.

Except Mase Parker is no stranger. My one-night stand is the new sheriff in town—the same unreasonable jackass I’ve been talking to for months while I redecorated his house...and my best friend’s, recently divorced, older brother. I should stay away from him, we decided it was for the best. So why can’t we keep our hands off each other?

And when Mase makes it clear he wants all of me, I know it’s time to hitch my trailer and head out of town, because staying would mean risking my heart—but another goodbye might break it completely...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sherilee Gray
• Release date: Mar 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9780473561918

Sherilee Gray

Sherilee Gray is a kiwi girl and lives in beautiful New Zealand with her husband and their two children. When she isn't writing sexy contemporary or paranormal romance, searching for her next alpha hero on Pinterest, or fueling her voracious book addiction, she can be found dreaming of far off places with a mug of tea in one hand and a bar of chocolate in the other.

Book preview

One

Trixie

My car idled at the crossroads, indicator tick, tick, ticking to turn left. The headlights of my gran’s clearwater aqua green ’67 Ford Mustang lighting up the sign pointing to Rocktown.

Fifty-five miles. I’d be home in less than an hour.

My stomach gripped tight. I didn’t want to go back. Not yet.

Seeing my friends, hearing their words of sympathy, the looks and hugs… The pity. I couldn’t face it, any of it. I loved my friends. They were the absolute best. And they were going to be upset when they found out Gran had died and I hadn’t told them.

This was something I needed to do on my own, though.

I couldn’t share, not yet. The pain was too raw, too all-encompassing.

And the guilt? I sucked in a desperate breath. Yeah, I was drowning in it.

If Lila or Everly hugged me… If Addy tried to feed me while Cassy mothered the hell out of me, or worse, Quinn looked at me with those big gray eyes swimming with tears, I’d lose it. I’d shatter, and I didn’t have the strength right now to put myself back together.

The letter Gran left for me with her final wishes…god, every word was etched on my mind. I gripped the steering wheel tighter.

A heavy beat rolled out of the bar across the street from me, along with the muffled sound of someone singing. I glanced over. I just…I needed to lose myself, to shut it all out. I could do that in a room full of strangers.

I’d driven through this tiny town many times, but I’d never stopped before.

No one knows you here.

For a short time, I wouldn’t have to be me.

The last Faraday standing, the last woman, anyway—and so alone I wasn’t sure how to breathe anymore.

Wrenching the wheel to the right, I drove into the parking lot, parked Veronica—my gran’s name for the car—grabbed my purse, climbed out, and paused, looking down at myself. I wasn’t exactly dressed for a bar, but then I wasn’t exactly dressed for a funeral either.

The off-the-shoulder, bright red vintage dress clung to my boobs, flared out at my waist in layers of tulle, and stopped mid-calf. It had belonged to Gran, one of the many items of clothing she’d given me over the years and one of her favorites. She’d told me more than once she wanted me to wear it to her funeral.

None of this dreary all-in-black bullshit, Trix.

Her voice echoed through my mind, and my heart cracked a little more. I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin—

Lily Allen’s Fuck You (Very Much) echoed around the parking lot, stopping me mid-step.

Scowling, I yanked my phone from my purse. It was Mason Parker—Mase to his friends and family—and the last person I wanted to talk to right now. I’d never met the guy in person, but I’d been forced to deal with him for three torturous months while I redecorated the Parker family home. Quinn’s surly, older brother was an arrogant control freak and drove me up the goddamn wall on the daily.

Shit, I gripped the phone tighter. I’d completely forgotten he was going to be in Rocktown this weekend, and since all the old flimsy locks on the house had recently been replaced, I was the only one with the new keys to get in.

Wincing, I hit end, ignoring it, and seconds later my phone beeped, letting me know I had a new message. Awesome. Against my better judgement, I called it up.

Low growl. Yeah, Trixie, it’s me. We agreed to meet today, yes? His deep, raspy voice echoed down the line. Waited at the house for an hour and you didn’t bother to show, so not only could I not get into my own damned house, I couldn’t take a look at the wiring like I’d specifically come home to do, so thanks for that. Silence. Muttered curse. Call me back.

Not freaking likely.

Tingles danced over my scalp, something that happened a lot when I listened to that jackass’s voice. I mean, he had a great voice, too bad about the personality. He probably looked like a toad, short with a paunch from too many donuts. Maybe one of those bushy handlebar mustaches like the old sheriff had.

Yes, Quinn was hot, but that didn’t mean her dickish brother had been blessed with the same awesome genes.

I shoved my phone back in my purse and shook it off. There was nothing I could do about it now.

Quinn was the best—funny, warm, loyal. Her brother was a nightmare.

Mase was newly divorced—big surprise there—and moving home to Rocktown after being offered the job of sheriff. Since Quinn had been kind enough to offer me a place to park my trailer when I needed one—and Gran and I had painted and wallpapered houses to make money while we traveled around—I’d offered up my services.

The house had been the Parker family home, and when her dad moved away, Quinn lived in it until she shacked up with her husband, Bull. Now Mase would be living there. The place was pretty but tired.

Quinn had passed on my offer to her brother, and he’d accepted. He’d been a thorn in my butt ever since.

Shoving that jackass out of my head, I marched up to the bar and yanked the door open. A wave of sound and heat hit me instantly. Laughter and singing, loud music—loud enough I wouldn’t have to think, that I could ignore the emotions trying to drag me under.

The barman gave me a once-over and smiled.

Martini, please, extra olives. My gran’s tipple of choice.

I glanced at the stage. Not a band. Karaoke.

My drink was put in front of me a few minutes later. I thanked the guy, ate the olives, downed the drink, and marched over to pick my song.

Tonight wasn’t for wallowing, or crying. Tonight, I was celebrating my gran, her amazing life full of color and laughter. She’d been a risk taker. She’d grabbed hold of whatever happiness came her way and ran with it. And when it stopped making her happy, she kept on running until she found more. More goodness, more joy, however it came.

I lived my life like her, or at least tried to, hard not to when she’d been the one stuck raising me and my older brother, Ross. My mom had preferred partying to raising kids and had chosen one useless asshole after another over us. I don’t think there was a single promise she kept. She died when I was fifteen, and now Ross was the one who broke promises.

He hadn’t even called to say he wouldn’t make the funeral. My brother just…didn’t show up.

If it hadn’t been for Gran? I didn’t like to think what my life would have been like.

Gran had been my world. My everything. And I’d completely and utterly adored her.

She’d been a singer and dancer when she was young, performing at clubs in front of huge crowds. This dress was one she’d worn on stage. Tonight, I would sing, no matter how badly, for her.

I smiled at the guy in charge of the karaoke machine and grabbed the songbook, flicking through. An image of me and Gran in her car, singing while we ran to the next pocket of happiness, filled my head. Her wide smile as she cranked up the stereo.

When I was sad, Gran would tell me to sing away my feelings.

Sing, Trix, sing until there’s nothing but you and the music.

My eyes stung, and I blinked rapidly, forcing back the pain.

You know what you want to sing? the guy asked.

I forced a bright smile. Yep. I pointed to my song and slid the book back to him.

There’s just three ahead of you. Name?

Call me whatever you want.

He raised a brow.

I walked away, because I didn’t want to be me. And yeah, maybe it didn’t make sense, but today my gran’s voice was so clear in my mind, like she was still there close to me, saying my name, and I didn’t want to hear anyone else say it. But I knew from experience, there was no making sense of grief, and I wasn’t going to try now.

The barman slid another martini in front of me when I returned to my seat. I smiled. Are you a mind reader?

He shook his head and tilted it. From the guy at the end of the bar.

I glanced in the direction of the head tilt.

There were two men standing there, but going by the distance between them, they were obviously not together.

On the left was an elderly gentleman with a kind, weathered face.

And on the right—

Holy shit.

Was a tall, muscular, tattooed…god.

Neither of them were looking at me or acknowledging me in any way. I turned back to the barman, but he’d already vanished, serving someone at the opposite end of the bar. I bit my lip and glanced back at the god. He was all chiseled features, five o’clock shadow, and a mouth that looked like it was made to perform sinful acts all over a woman’s body.

You’re not that lucky.

My gaze slid to the elderly gent, and he glanced up, caught my eye, and smiled. Yep, there you go. Of course, it was him. Maybe he felt sorry for me here all on my own? He probably thought I’d been stood up or something.

I definitely wasn’t getting any creepy vibes from him, and my creep radar was first class. The way I looked—all the tattoos, the clothes I wore—made me stand out in a crowd, and sometimes I drew attention, not all of it good.

It’d be rude not to say thanks, and honestly, I could use the company. Sliding my drink off the bar, I headed toward him. My gaze darted back to the god without my say-so, because holy shit the guy was hot—

His electric-blue gaze lifted and slid to me, and he had the wattage cranked waaay up. Those eyes hit me full force, shocking the shit out of me, zapping me with a dose of pure brooding sexiness that had the power to knock me off my feet. I stumbled, my ankle tipping perilously in my spiked heel.

Careful there, honey.

The older man caught me before I lost my drink and got a face-full of alcohol-soaked carpet.

Those are some quick reflexes you have there.

He chuckled. I saw you coming.

No one else even attempted to save me. You’re the only gentleman in the room. Thank you kindly, good sir.

His grin widened. You’re hard to miss. I think you probably intimidate most of these morons.

I liked this guy. You think so?

Unique scares some men. The weak ones, anyway.

I’m not as scary as I look. I’m like a peacock, all plume and no bite.

His eyes sparkled. I don’t believe that for a moment.

I rested my elbow on the bar. "Okay, you got me there. I have sharp claws, but I save them for the idiots who really piss me off."

He laughed and I grinned.

The door opened and my new friend glanced over at the woman who had just walked in. His smile widened as if the sun had just come up. My ride’s here, he said. Nice talking to you, honey. And don’t waste your time on a man who doesn’t appreciate you, claws and all. Then he patted my hand and headed for his lady friend at the door.

That was nice, in fact, my eyes were stinging again. Then I remembered why I’d walked over to him in the first place. Hey!

He turned back.

I held up my glass. Thanks for the drink.

Wish I could take the credit. He smirked and tilted his head to the tall, silent man standing not far from me. The god.

I spun around and Adonis, the name just popped into my head, was watching me with that electric-blue gaze. He said nothing.

I stared back, swallowed…swallowed again. My mouth was suddenly dry as hell. You bought me the drink?

He dipped his chin, a small curve to his sinful mouth.

Um…well, thanks.

All good. He took a sip from his beer. Think you’re needed on stage.

Pardon?

The lady in red?

His deep voice skated down my spine, and I shivered.

You’re up, lady in red, the guy at the karaoke machine called, his voice finally penetrating my lust haze. I turned, and the guy waved to me. Any day now, sweetheart.

Laughter rumbled through the bar.

Shit.

Mase

Fuck me, she was gorgeous.

My gaze followed her as she rushed to the stage, somehow not stumbling again in those killer heels. Before she’d arrived, the bar had seemed dark, bland, colorless. Then she walked in with her brightly inked arms, delicate gold nose ring, red dress, and platinum blond hair, and lit the place up. The fifties-style dress she wore clung to her waist, flaring out at her hips, showing off just how small and curvy she was.

She was soft, sexy, and so damn tempting, I hadn’t been able to look away.

Since my wife walked out nearly a year ago, I’d barely looked at another woman. I hadn’t wanted anyone else. Looking at the lady in red now…I wanted. I wanted so fucking badly I ached.

Jesus, I hadn’t planned to talk to her. She was obviously young. Too young for me. But I’d wanted the sadness gone from her eyes. She’d looked…lonely. A feeling I was all too familiar with.

She smiled at the guy in charge of the karaoke machine and gave him a subtle nod.

Music started up, slow and melodic.

It was Patsy Cline’s Walkin’ After Midnight.

Definitely not what I’d expected. And for some reason, when she moved up to the mic and gripped it with a shaking hand, my heart beat faster.

The people around me cheered, several wolf whistled, and someone yelled, Yeah, baby!

She ignored them all, her eyes closing for several long seconds before they opened, big and sad and fucking heartbreakingly gorgeous.

Christ, she looked like she belonged there on stage. The hair, the dress, the shoes…she was a fifties pinup dream girl. And yeah, I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

Then she began to sing, and I had to grip the edge of the bar. Her voice was smoky and achingly sweet. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she sang about searching for her lost love. She poured so much feeling into that song that I believed her. Fuck, I was jealous of some random guy in an old song. Because she sold it—the pain, the heartbreak—and right then for some unexplainable reason, I wanted to be the one to make her smile again.

When the song finished, the room erupted into cheers. Again, she ignored it all and headed back toward the bar, straight for me. I curled my fingers tighter around my glass as she took the vacant spot beside me and gave me a sidelong glance, her stunning green eyes taking my measure as she reached for her own glass.

Without thinking, I slid it out of her reach and motioned to the barman to get her a fresh one.

She cocked a brow. Um…what was that?

Not a good idea to leave your drink unattended.

She turned to me fully, her head to the side. But you were right here the whole time.

It was an effort to drag my gaze away from her plump lips. You don’t know me.

Nope, she said. Good point. You could be a major weirdo. Though I’m not getting that vibe from you.

I huffed out a laugh. My sister’s infuriating friend, Trixie, the one currently decorating my house, used that word vibe all the time.

Okay, so what vibe are we going for in the living room? And Ah…no, that’s not the vibe, Mason, not happening. When I told her I wanted blue for my bedroom.

Though I could admit, I more than enjoyed sparring with her. She gave as good as she got, and I liked that a whole lot.

She was also the reason I was here and not in my own damn house. I’d planned to spend the night there before heading back to the city. I had three weeks left before I moved back to Rocktown for good, and I’d decided to fly home for the weekend, hoping to assess the wiring and check out what she’d done so far. She hadn’t bothered to show. She’d just blown me off, and she was the only one with the new set of goddamn keys.

I would have stayed at a motel back in Rocktown, but there was a biker rally in the area this weekend and everything was full. And Bull’s friends from the local club were crashing at his and my sister’s place. I’d slept one night at The Mule, Bull’s bar, sleeping on the couch in my best friend’s office. Tonight, I wanted a bed and a good night’s sleep before I flew back to Portland in the morning, so I’d traveled forty-five minutes to the closest motel with a vacancy.

Did I say something funny? she said, green eyes sparkling dangerously.

I shook my head. "I might seem like a nice guy, but it doesn’t mean I’m not a weirdo. And sharp claws or not, I’m not sure someone’s vibe is the best way to assess your safety."

Are you going to attack me?

No.

Are you a weirdo?

Nope, but don’t take my word for it.

She laughed, smoky and sexy—the same way she sang. My gut tightened and my dick got hard. Okay, harder.

You have a sister, don’t you? She took a sip of the new drink that’d just been put in front of her.

My lips twitched. Maybe.

I’m sure she doesn’t think you’re a giant pain in the ass at all.

I laughed and the full, rough sound took me by surprise. I hadn’t had a lot to laugh about lately. My gaze slid over the funny, beautiful, colorful woman beside me, and something in my lower belly gripped impossibly tight.

Yeah, she was definitely too young for me. She could do a hell of a lot better than some fucked-up, thirty-five-year-old divorcee with anger issues, but I could enjoy her company for a little while, right? Just someone to talk to for a few hours, if I was lucky. I held out my hand. So what’s your name? I’m…

No names, she blurted. I’m not doing names tonight.

No?

Nope. Why do you think Mr. Karaoke called me ‘lady in red’? No, it wasn’t very original, but what can you do?

Christ, what was it about her? She fascinated me. So what should I call you?

She rested her chin in her palm and peered up at me with those wide green eyes. What would you like to call me?

Two

Trixie

That’s it, kitten, show me how you like it.

His voice was nothing but a ragged growl, low and sexy and demanding. One big hand was on my bare ass, the other sliding up my back, into my hair to fist gently. Panting, I swung my hips, riding him hard. I couldn’t get enough of him or his dirty mouth.

We’d talked for a couple of hours, then he’d brought me to his motel room. I’m not sure how long we’d been at it, but this was round two and, although it seemed impossible, it was even better than the first time when he’d had me against the wall.

The bed squeaked, and I trembled as another orgasm built inside me. He was big, filling me in a way that was almost too much, hitting me deep inside with each wild stroke. It was…so good. God, perfect.

But right then, I wanted…needed more.

You want it harder, don’t you, kitten? he said, reading my mind.

Yes…please. Kitten. He’d been calling me that all night. For some reason, it was incredibly hot coming from him.

He flipped me, covering me with the solid weight of his body, and slammed back inside me. I groaned and spread wider, wanting more of him. His lips moved over mine, his tongue sliding deep, tasting, owning.

Okay, going to some motel room with a total stranger probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever done. I didn’t know this man, not even his name, but for some reason he made me feel…safe. Which was ridiculous. How could that be? But there was something about him, something almost familiar. I didn’t know what it was, but I’d needed him.

This beautiful stranger was keeping me anchored tonight when I thought I might float away