Uncovered Desires: A Single Mom Alpha Male Protector Romance

By Kelli Walker

Georgetown, Texas.

Population: 67,000.

Doesn't sound like a small town, but it looks like one.

Sounds like one.

And they sure as hell gossip like one.

This town needs a breath of fresh air.

A gust of contemporary ethics.

But that jet stream brought a man to town.

A man with analytical eyes and a mind that searches for truth.

Will his whirlwind sweep me off my feet?

Will his gale-force determination crumble my concrete walls?

And when the safety of my son is challenged, can I trust the promises that flurry from his lips?

 

Follow the story of Isabelle and Tristan as they uncover dark pasts, darker questions, and the darkest of desires. A true tale of second chances with two ships passing in the night. Walk through their harrowing tale of healing and conviction, and watch as these two faded shadows both bring one another into the light.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelli Walker
• Release date: Jul 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201796761

Book preview

Tristan

What’ll it be, handsome?

I looked up at the spunky waitress as she stood there, ready to take my order. Her smile was broad and her posture open, signaling two things to me. One, she really did enjoy her job-- which was unusual for the waitressing world. Especially in a small town. And two, she was this friendly with everyone.

I’ll take the fried chicken plate, I said.

Sweet corn and fries okay? she asked

Yep.

Want anymore sweet tea? she asked.

I’ll take some more, sure.

Anything else for ya?

I’m good. Thanks.

I’ll get it out as fast as I can!

People eyed me suspiciously as I sipped my sweet tea. I leaned back into the wrought iron chair as I gazed out the window. Georgetown, Texas. Population, 67,000. A lot smaller than most towns in the state, or so I’d been told by several locals. Texas felt good. A lot better than D.C. I didn’t see my wife whenever I looked around the place. It wasn’t coated in memories of us. There were no illusions. No ghostly figures of her walking into her favorite shop. Hell, her favorite shop didn’t exist out here. Only in D.C.

It was why I had to leave.

More sweet tea for ya, the waitress said.

Thanks.

I’m Bella Dawn, by the way.

I looked up at her and noted her rainbow-colored hair. It contrasted her dark brown eyes and matched her bubbly personality. Two more things flew through my mind. One, she took pride in how different she was from the people around her. And two, her sunny disposition was probably due to the fact that she received a lot of ridicule herself. Seventy two percent of people who went out of their way to try and showcase their dissection from others around them did so because they embraced the differences others judged them for.

I called it the ‘middle finger syndrome’.

You like it? she asked as she ran her fingers through her hair. Just got it done a couple days ago. A friend of mine owns a boutique down the way. Name’s Violet.

Her hair that color? I asked.

Oh you’re a funny one. I like funny ones, she said as she pushed my shoulder.

The touchy type. But her eyes weren’t dilated. I looked up and grinned at her, then nodded my head. No dilated pupils meant there was usually no sexual attraction, so she wasn’t flirting. Finding reason to touch people but not in a sexual way suggested a strong want to be touched by others. Usually from a neglectful childhood or the byproduct of an absent parent.

Coupling that with her intentionally bright hair and her want to offer up information about herself, I made an educated guess that it was the latter.

Nope, she’s as blonde as they come. Can’t tell the difference between a donkey and a horse, but she can do a hell of a miracle with people’s hair.

Good thing she’s not an animal groomer, I said.

You’d fit right in here with that humor of yours. You passin’ through?

Something like that, I said.

Ya don’t sound like us, so I figured. What brings you to Texas? Where ya from?

D.C.

Well, you’re a long way from home, Mr. East Coaster. What brings ya all the way out here to our neck of the woods?

My eyes fell back out the window as memories accosted my mind. Assaulted me from all angles as I brought the sweet tea to my lips. My time at the CIA. My undercover missions. My partner, Jackson. The nights we spent drinking. The times we tried to erase memories from our operations. Tried to erase our emotions.

Tried to erase the memory of my wife’s funeral.

I don’t think I got your name, Bella said.

I didn’t give it, I said.

Well, if ya need anythin’, just flag me down.

Thanks.

My mind fell into the memories that didn’t seem to be going away. I’d spent ten years at the CIA. I trained specifically for their undercover missions. Learning how to read people. Learning how to tell when they were lying. When they were being threatened. Coerced. I learned everything I could about human behavior and why people did the things they did. Outward manifestations of inward emotions and tumbling thoughts.

I was good at what I did.

I was good being someone else.

I excelled at playing the part of another person. I could talk like anyone, look like anyone, and act like anyone with enough time to prepare. And Jackson? My partner? He’d been the perfect addition to my one-man act. He had kept me held down on the technological side of things while I was out there kicking ass and hauling shitheads back in handcuffs.

And my wife? She was always there to help me after my debriefings. To help me shake the persona off and slowly re-emerge as Tristan Overcash. She helped me strip away the layers I’d worked so diligently to paint on so I could recognize myself in the mirror again. She helped me transition from the man I became into the man I was. The man she knew me to be.

The man that didn’t spend his time buried beneath another person’s life.

The smell of food caught my nose and I looked down. Fried chicken, sweet corn, and french fries. My wife’s favorite meal. It was astounding to me how she could eat like shit all the damn time and still look as good as she did on our wedding day. Our wedding night. Beside me in bed when the morning sun crept through the windows. She wasn’t raised in the South, but her mother had been. Taught her how to cook some of the unhealthiest things imaginable. Like deep-fried country steak and thick sausage gravy to pour over buttermilk biscuits.

I had to double-time it in the gym with Jackson after I’d married her just to keep myself in shape.

Fuck me. I was supposed to die first.

Not her.

I took a few bites of my food and began looking around the room. People were whipping their heads away from me, trying to make it look as if they hadn’t been staring. Every town that caught my eye from here to D.C. I stopped to eat. To size up the people in the town before deciding whether or not I’d set up camp there. After I lost my wife, I drank. I sucked down beers with Jackson in bars late at night and started showing up to work drunk. It almost cost me my job. My reputation. Everything I had worked so hard for.

I took my boss’s suggestion on taking some time off.

But that time became permanent.

It had to be. There was nowhere in D.C. I could go without seeing her.

And every time I saw her, I wanted to drink until I didn’t.

My eyes landed on a woman in the corner. She was typing away quickly on a laptop while mindlessly picking food off a plate behind her computer. Her green eyes fluttered around the screen quickly, her mind lost in its own little world. But it was her hair that caught my eye. Jet black hair with dark streaks of purple and blue.

It reminded me of the oil slicks I found underneath the heavy machinery I worked on sometimes.

Need anythin’?

I drew in a deep breath and took another bite of my sweet corn.

I’m good. Thanks, I said.

So, ya used to live in D.C. You lookin’ for another home or somethin’? Bella asked.

You could say that, I said.

But that was exactly what I was doing. I was riding on the last few days of my paid vacation, biding my time until I dropped myself somewhere to start a new life. After making my leave from the CIA permanent, I packed up my shit, hitched it to my truck, and began to drive. Aimlessly wandering and stopping in towns that seemed friendly enough. I’d lined up my two week’s notice perfectly with the end of the vacation I’d racked up. Then I’d cash in my pension, empty my 401(k), and figure out what the hell came next.

Well, Georgetown is a great place, Bella said. It’s nice year-round, and it don’t get too cold. So that’s a plus if ya don’t like the cold.

I’m not partial to either, I said.

There’re people here who’ve made it their home for generations. So it’s got that old southern charm to it. You know, traditional. But not in a gross, racist way.

I’m sure it is.

Trying to recruit another citizen for our small town?

I turned my head at the new voice and saw that woman walking towards us. And she was beautiful. Strong curves she obviously kept in shape, and that oil slick hair of hers fluttered well beyond her shoulders. Her bright green eyes shone as she approached, and she hugged my waitress like they were friends.

Isabelle, meet the newest addition to the town, Bella said.

You gonna tell me his name? she asked.

He hasn’t given it to me. I would if I had it. Nameless man, this is Isabelle Carpenter. A very good friend of mine.

Tristan, I said. And it’s nice to meet you.

See? All we needed was that sweet little smile of yours, Izzy, Bella said.

She did have a sweet smile.

She had a smile that stunned armies in their spots and started wars across oceans.

She’s another benefit that comes with the town, Bella said. Because she runs one of the premier businesses around here.

You do? I asked.

Hardly. Bella’s being dramatic, she said.

But you have your own business, I said.

I do.

She’s an expert in all things decorative, Bella asked as she swept her hand through the air.

I watched Isabelle blush at the compliment. It was a beautiful tint. One I was having a hard time not staring at. But coupled with her beautiful hair, her sparkling eyes, and the sharp slopes of her body?

Guilt pooled in my chest as my eyes fell back to my food. The last thing I needed to be doing was staring at another woman. I’d had my one true love. I’d had my chance at it. Then fate intervened in the most horrendous way possible and ripped it away from me. Maybe I’d done something in another life. Or killed the wrong person in the line of duty. I had no fucking clue. All I knew was no good man was ever punished the way I had been.

And I sure as hell didn’t need to be looking at another woman to drag into my tangled web.

But really, Georgetown’s wonderful, Bella said. Downtown always has festivals, and the houses all have this charm to it. And if ya get into the right neighborhoods, you can find yourself a decent wrap-around porch. Oh, I love those things. I hope to have one someday myself. Izzy, couldn’t ya see us rockin’ on my wrap-around porch with some of my momma’s alcoholic sweet tea while we shot the shit? Huh?

I grinned and shook my head as I took another bite of my food.

What I think is that ya need to leave this poor man alone so he can eat in peace, Isabelle said.

My eyes panned back up to hers and she smiled down at me. She fed me this playful little wink that tugged at my gut. I bit down onto the inside of my cheek to keep from returning the gesture. She was playful. Beautiful. And her lilting accent was nice against my ears. But that part of my life was behind me, and it wasn’t a book I needed to be opening again.

This is yours, by the way, Isabelle said. Your tip.

Ya know you don’t need to tip me when ya come in, Izzy. You’re good, Bella said.

Take the damn money.

My eyebrows rose at her commanding tone of voice. Especially when Bella quickly followed suit.

There was something kind and genuine behind her eyes, but something strong in the way she spoke. Isabelle nodded her head before she left the restaurant, and I gazed out the window to watch her. She bypassed the window, the wind catching her hair and fluttering it behind her. Long, flowing tendrils of beautiful colors that shone and reflected the sharp rays of the Texan sun.

Here’s your check whenever you’re ready, darlin’, Bella said. Just leave your card out and I’ll come ‘round and get it.

I didn’t know why, but I was curious about her. She was unlike anyone else I’d met on my self-assessed cross-country tour. She struck me as a higher caliber of person with a well of strength seated within her bones. And people like that always had a story.

I was curious to know hers.

I continued eating my food and retreated back into my head. If I wanted to know more about her, I’d have to stick around. But even if I never came across her again, having one person like her in a place like Georgetown meant more had to exist. Someone raised her with that strength. Someone embedded that sweet and spicy attitude into her. If that was any indication of the kind of people that lived in this place, then maybe I could see myself sticking around in it.

Bella was kind. Upfront and in my face, but kind. And Isabelle was… intriguing.

I fished out my wallet and slid my card out. I tossed it onto the table before I finished my food, watching as Bella quickly rang me up. I threw back the last of my tea and wiped my mouth off, then signed the credit card slip and made sure to leave her a decent tip.

I hope you’ll come back and see us, she said with a smile.

Don’t worry, I said as I leaned against the door. I think I will.

Isabelle

Dom! DeShawn! Are you two ready for school?

But all I was met with was silence.

DeShawn? You up!?

What, Mom? he asked.

Dominique? You up!?

Why are you yelling, Mom? he asked.

Because the two of you are supposed to be out the door in twenty minutes for school and you’re still in bed, I said.

In my defense, I’m reading a book, Dom said.

In your defense? What are you, a lawyer? DeShawn asked.

The both of you, up now. Wash down, get dressed, and get into this kitchen, I said as I walked up the stairs. Or the next time I call out for you guys, I’m using the foghorn.

Please sweet hell don’t do that, DeShawn said.

Hey. Language, I said. My sixteen-year old boy won’t be using that kind of filthy mouth at school.

That’s why I don’t use it at school, he said.

Yes you do, Dom said. You cussed at a teacher yesterday.

You did what? I asked as I peeked into his room.

I didn’t cuss at her, Mom. I caught myself, he said.

Dom, what did he say? I asked.

I’m going to tell Ma all about those magazines underneath your mattress if you don’t shut up, DeShawn said.

Excuse me? I asked as my eyes widened.

I watched my two boys come out of their rooms with grins on their faces. I sighed, rolling my eyes as I opened my arms for them. I held them close and kissed their cheeks, murmuring ‘good morning’ to them and feeling them wrap their arms around me.

Then, I popped them both on the backside of their heads.

Hey!

What was that for?

It was just a joke!

That’s for lying to your mother and almost giving her a heart attack, I said as I pointed at the two of them. Now get into your bathrooms and wash up. Pronto.

Can I drive this week? DeShawn asked. Dom drove all last week.

Yes, sweet boy. You can drive.

But I get to pick the music, Dom said as he stuck his tongue out.

My boys were crazy. True sixteen-year olds to their core. I listened to them bicker the entire time they were getting ready as I packed their lunches. DeShawn ate two ham-and-cheese sandwiches with grapes, chips, and three Capri-Suns while Dominique ate two peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches with carrots, broccoli, ranch dip, and a massive bottle of water he carried around with him.

I set the bags out on the kitchen counter as the boys came tumbling down the stairs.

Literally tumbling.

Ow, Dom! What the-? Why did you trip me?

I didn’t mean to, Dee. You were in the way.

I was in the way? I was in front of you!

And now I’m in front of you.

Don’t you take my lunch.

As long as you don’t take mine like you did Thursday.

Boys, I said. Cool it.

They came around the corner into the kitchen and they both smiled at me. I could still remember the day I brought DeShawn home from the hospital. He curled against me the entire time and wouldn’t let me go. I had a hard time even bedding him down that night. And Dom? That kid was right there alongside him. Going wherever he went. The two of them couldn’t have been more opposite. DeShawn played football and lacrosse. Spent his free time after school in the gym with the guys on his team. And Dominique, with his love for books and classical music. He knew every single answer to the questions on Jeopardy and never missed a day of school. Not even when he was sick. Keeping Dom home from school was a punishment in his eyes, while DeShawn would live it up as much as possible if sickness kept him back.

But I didn’t mind, considering the circumstances in his life that brought him to me.

Got your homework? I asked.

Yep.

Got it.

Got your lunch? I asked.

Just grabbed it.

"I checked