Big Easy: New South Romance

By M.K. Chester

She might not need him. He definitely needed her.

 

Tory Winfield used anger to dig herself out of the hole Seth Rivers left her in when he vanished four years ago. She vows to never give her power to a man again. When Seth returns as mysteriously as he left, he wants a second chance. Free to tell her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, he puts everything on the line to keep her safe and win her back.

 

They may be out of danger but is it too late for second chances in the Big Easy?

• Language: English
• Publisher: LBD Media
• Release date: May 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393449188

M.K. Chester

M.K Chester is an avid reader who began writing at an early age to entertain herself. She began to take writing seriously after college and her work developed timeless themes of redemption and second chances. ​​She won some RWA awards, published with The Wild Rose Press and Carina [Harlequin] and now considers herself a happy Indie. Her romance titles include something for everyone: historical, contemporary, and paranormal. 

Book preview

Chapter One

VICTORIA WINFIELD STARED up at a faded mural of a buxom, naked woman perched precariously above the billiard tables in Rueben’s Acadian Saloon. Cigarette smoke snaked across her bared breasts and blurred her seductive smile, as if she inhaled the poison to sustain herself.

Tory blinked free of the image as billiard balls crashed behind her. A raucous cheer followed the sharp noise, and she glanced over her shoulder with a smile to see who Warren Everett was going to beat tonight.

Hey, angel. The pot-bellied truck driver winked at her before leaning over the table to judge his next shot. His arm jolted forward with expert speed and the perfect amount of force. You working or playing tonight?

Watching, she answered. And drinking. She worked odd weekends at Reuben’s near New Orleans for extra cash and a change of pace from her new corporate dog-trot. Warren was one of the regulars, a harmless father-figure who ducked in and out between runs for Exxon.

He straightened himself and raised is beer. Well, somebody’s sure watchin’ you, sweetheart.

Tory’s gaze swung across the crowded little room, and she didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary. Turning back to the bar with a shrug, she ordered another beer and fixed her eyes on the Tulane basketball game on the overhead television.

Before long, she felt the weight of someone’s gaze on the back of her neck. Her skin prickled. She didn’t bother to turn around when a man slid onto the barstool beside her.

She didn’t want any company tonight, or most nights.

Ready to shoot him down, a familiar voice slipped under the bar chatter, smooth and low, like expensive liquor. Hey, Tory. It’s been a little while.

Her grip tightened around the neck of her Rolling Rock as her heart turned over in her chest. She’d know Seth Rivers’ voice anywhere. Abandoned by her usual candor, she froze, not daring to turn her eyes toward him. What are you doing here?

The silence lasted so long she feared he’d either left or hadn’t really been there to begin with. She shifted her gaze to study the strong hands resting on the slick pine bar and felt a pang of longing deep inside.

The sensual response rode a wave of nausea as she remembered the night he’d disappeared, and she repeated her question with more force. What the hell are you doing here?

Your sister said you might be here. He paused to order his private label whiskey of choice. Some things never changed. Can we talk?

Taking a deep breath, Tory faced her past, her incredible disappearing fiancé. She tried not to see how handsome he still was, how deep blue his eyes, the dashing way his stick straight hair fell across his eyebrows, the new goatee he sported.

Her body responded before she could stop, the memory of their instant chemistry still deadly strong years after he’d walked away from their relationship.

She swallowed. We are talking.

Somewhere quiet. He raised his eyebrows as if he’d asked a question, which he hadn’t.

Impressive. He managed to seem pained while she tried not to notice two new scars on his face, forming a slanted X above his right cheekbone. You made yourself perfectly clear when you walked out the door.

Seth reached forward and eased her beer bottle from her grip as she raised the drink toward her lips. I forgot to take something with me three years ago.

The warmth of his hand enveloped hers and maybe the beer clouded her judgement. Or the sexy glint in his eye struck the right chord. She hadn’t spent alone time with any man since he’d vanished nearly four years ago. Her resolve slipped.

A lot.

Anger sparked behind the alcohol. Anger at her response to him. I think you took everything you meant to take.

Her virginity. Her heart. Her self-respect. Her reputation. You know, all the important things.

You don’t know the whole story, Tory. He shook his head and released her hand. Staring into the depths of his drink, he wrangled the nerve to sound a little sad. You deserve to know everything. I came back to tell you.

I know everything I need to know about you. She knew he’d left her with a ton of debt, a cat she didn’t ask for, a crappy domestic car, and a pathetic reputation she found difficult to overcome. These very real tokens didn’t bend to his pheromones. Go away.

Please, Tory. Five minutes.

His hand landed on her knee and her visceral response pushed her to slide off her barstool. From the corner of the room, she noted Warren keeping an eye on her. She nodded to indicate she was all right.

No way in hell. She struggled to keep her volume low because his touch did all sorts of crazy things to her, both inside and out. You can’t waltz in here and act like I owe you something. I don’t owe you the time of day.

She might as well have smacked him across the face. She’d never spoken to him so forcefully in their time together. I know you don’t owe me anything, Tory. I didn’t mean to come across like you do. I owe you a long-overdue explanation, not the other way around.

Tory eased back onto her stool and reclaimed her lukewarm beer. Damn him for looking so good, being so conciliatory. Always charming, this man fooled everyone, and she’d gone to bat for him more often than she cared to remember only to be tossed aside and abandoned one rainy night.

I’ll go, he whispered, then pulled a hotel pen from his pocket and scribbled something on the back of a napkin, which he then slid toward her. "My number, in case you change your mind. I don’t deserve a chance to explain.