Lovely

By Beth Michele

A sexy college romance about a cocky guy who seemingly has everything until a girl shows up and spins his world on its axis. The problem? She's not interested...

Ashton Taylor lived a charmed life. Everything came easy to him. 

Except Cara Hayward.

So what happened when a guy who everything came easy to, met a girl who didn't come easy? Could he fight past her shield and all the broken pieces? Would the girl he discovered deep down be able to see past his perfect exterior?

His dilemma? She's not interested...

And he's in for the fight of his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Michele
• Release date: Sep 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9781304484239

Beth Michele

Beth Michele is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of M/F and M/M Contemporary Romance who writes sweet, funny, and sexy stories with heart and snark. She is a lover of the written word, and pens love stories about flawed characters who fight toward a much-earned HEA. She can often be spotted hiding out with her laptop or ereader somewhere quiet, preferably on a bench overlooking the ocean. Beth is a mom to two incredible teenagers, who, when they were born, stole a chunk of her heart and refused to give it back. Come Find Me! Website: http://www.bethmichele.com Instagram http://www.instagram/bethmicheleauthor Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bethmicheleauthor/ Subscribe to my newsletter: http://bethmichele.com/1/subscribe/

Book preview

Also by Beth Michele

City Love

Love Love

Scarred Beautiful

Finding Love

Finding Autumn

Standalone

Lovely

Rex

For the Love of Raindrops

Life in Reverse

Chasing the High

Behind His Lens

Lily and the Billionaire

Going Down

My Favorite Grump

Watch for more at Beth Michele’s site.

Copyright © 2013 by Beth Michele

Editing by Erin Roth, Wise Owl Editing

Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

All rights reserved.

Title Page

Copyright

Also By Beth Michele

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue

Chapter One – Where did you come from, Angel?

Chapter Two – Raindrops keep falling on my head

Chapter Three – Inner poet

Chapter Four – What’s a type, anyway?

Chapter Five – I won’t take no for an answer

Chapter Six – Nothing good ever comes easily

Chapter Seven – The oak tree

Chapter Eight – The best kind of distraction

Chapter Nine – Poetry for Dummies

Chapter Ten – He who hesitates is truly lost

Chapter Eleven – What do you want from me?

Chapter Twelve – The pain that lies beneath

Chapter Thirteen – Friends … a novel concept

Chapter Fourteen – You make it better

Chapter Fifteen – Slivers of light

Chapter Sixteen – You’re disgusting

Chapter Seventeen – Be still my heart

Chapter Eighteen – Lovely

Chapter Nineteen – See me

Chapter Twenty – A dream

Chapter Twenty-One – The road less traveled

Chapter Twenty-Two – You made me feel my heart

Chapter Twenty-Three – Letting go

Chapter Twenty-Four – Strangled by fear

Chapter Twenty-Five – Celebrate life

Chapter Twenty-Six – Leaving on a jet plane

Chapter Twenty-Seven – You have my heart

Chapter Twenty-Eight – I choose you

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Woo Woo

Chapter Thirty – The perfect plan … I think

Chapter Thirty-One – A penny for your smile

Chapter Thirty-Two – Meet me in the moonlight

Epilogue – Two years later …

Scarred Beautiful excerpt

Also By Beth Michele

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Beth Michele

M/F Contemporary Romance

Lovely

Scarred Beautiful

Finding Autumn

REX

For the Love of Raindrops

Life in Reverse

Lily and the Billionaire

M/M Contemporary Romance

Chasing the High

Behind His Lens

Going Down

To my amazing husband and two beautiful children, this would all be a dream if you weren’t standing by my side.

To all the brilliant poets of the past, present, and future … I truly believe that we are all poets. We just have to dig deep within ourselves to find it and have the courage to set it free.

Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.

—E.E. Cummings

Who am I?

Fuck if I know.

I step out of a scalding hot shower, humidity filling the bathroom, the air weighing so heavy it’s hard to breathe. I can relate. I wrap a towel around my waist and feel my way to the sink. Who am I? This question continues to plague me. My eyes crawl up to the mirror begging for an answer, but a buildup of moisture prevents me from seeing my reflection. I place my fists on either side of it, rub the steam off with my palm, and stare. As I contemplate this question, the only thing I’m left with are blank eyes looking back at me. I know this shouldn’t be, but it is. I’m a devoted son, responsible brother, trusted friend, excellent student, and a good fuck. I’ve been told I’m talented. And I suppose things come easy to me. My life seems perfect.

There shouldn’t be anything missing, right? Wrong.

There is.

I only wish I knew what it was.

The glare of the late January sun pounds through the roof of my blood red BMW as I pull into the parking lot of Glendale College, the window rolled down, the cool, crisp air giving my face a wake-up call. I ease into my usual spot, the last space on the right abutting the Science building, slam the gear shift into park, and listen to one more riff of Creed’s Higher before I step out. The sunlight heats my neck as I sling my backpack over my shoulder, reach around to stuff in the package of Twinkies that fuel my tired brain, and make my way into the building. My first class isn’t for another hour, so there’s really no need to hurry.

Flurries of students rush around with purpose, hanging out by the football field or sneaking in that last drag of a cigarette before they head to class. I’m keenly aware of everyone else but they haven’t the first clue about me. They all think they do, though, and that’s the part that’s laughable. They can’t read the empty smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. The smile there’s nothing behind … nothing but longing and a burning loneliness crackling so deep that sometimes even I forget it’s there.

A familiar voice calls out to me and drags me from my thoughts. Hey, Ash, wait up!

I stop in my tracks to wait for Jason. Jason Carrigan and I have been friends for sixteen years; we’ve been through it all together. From chasing girls around the elementary school playground to nearly choking on our first toke of a cigarette behind the railroad tracks to quickly sobering each other up with the truth when it’s so desperately needed, we have each other’s backs and he’s like a second brother to me. What’s up, Jason?

Jason speeds toward me, his messy blond hair falling over his eyes, his long arms flailing as he attempts to control the books slipping out of his backpack. He manages to catch two of them before they hit the ground. I’ve got to meet with Professor Hallsworth about my Linguistics exam and then I’m gonna go for breakfast. Wanna come?

The thought of pancakes makes my mouth water, but my Econ paper calls. I can’t. I’ve got a paper due and I need to head to the library to study.

Sounds like a blast. Alright, well, maybe we can play some hoops after … Jason stops dead in his tracks. Oh. My. God.

I look up to see Olivia Winkler sauntering in our direction, all long legs and tight ass with tits that could make almost anyone drop to their knees.

Been there, done that.

His mouth hangs open as she shoulders by me.

Hey, Ash, she coos.

His eyes widen, making him look like a cartoon character as he whips his head around to follow her movement. Holy hell, Ash. Can I be you for just one day? Lord, just give me one day.

I shake my head on a laugh. Yeah, she’s hot as hell, but when she moaned it was like a gerbil being squeezed within an inch of its life.

Jason slaps my arm and snorts. "Bro, for some of that, she can freaking squeal like a pig for all I care."

"You, my friend, are a pig," I mock.

He smacks me with his backpack. Yeah, that’s like the pot calling the kettle black, dude.

He’s got a point there.

"It’s just like in Top Gun, he blurts out, you’re freaking Maverick and I’m your wingman, and this wingman is always on the sidelines. He hauls his backpack behind him. Alright, I’m off to see the beloved Professor Hallsworth. Catch you later, Ash."

See ya, Goose.

Jason may joke around about his nonexistent sex life, but I know he’ll eventually find someone. He’s smart and has one of those magnetic personalities. Plus, he’s a good looking guy. I mean, I don’t bat for the other team, but well, he’s got blond hair and blue eyes, stands about six feet tall and is well-defined in those areas that women find so tantalizing. Problem is, the guy’s a little scatterbrained. Once someone can get past that, he’ll have found the right girl.

I’m weaving my way through the maze of students crossing the campus when Shelby Finley comes up from behind and squeezes my ass then sidles up next to me. Her bleach blonde, shoulder-length hair is tucked behind her ears, her lips are a fire engine red, and her shorts, well, they should be declared illegal. Shelby’s my current flavor of the month.

She leans over, whispering, Hey sexy. Any plans tonight? I’m seriously horny and I need to be fucked … only by you of course.

Jesus, Shelby. Tone it down a bit, will ya? We’re in the parking lot.

Her tongue glides along her lower lip. That’s not what you said the other night.

I roll my eyes at her and pull the hand that’s glued to my ass away. I can’t tonight, Shelby. I have to study.

Well, that’s a new one. You’d choose studying over … She leans forward, her breasts spilling out of her blouse, and shakes them at me. These?

I tear my eyes away from her chest and roll back up to her face. I’ll take a rain check.

Shelby lets out a disappointed sigh. Alright, well, I guess I have a date with my vibrator tonight then.

I run my hands through my hair while I reconsider my decision for a split second but then let it go. I need a break from Shelby. Have fun with that.

She bats her eyelashes and pivots in the other direction. See ya, Ash.

Yeah, later, Shelby.

The truth is, I’ve been around the block with a lot of girls. I can’t help myself. Well, I can, but I don’t want to. I love sex and I love beautiful girls. The way their scent lingers in the air, the way their skin tastes under my lips, the way they … well … you get the picture. There’s definitely no way in hell I’m allowing myself to get attached to just one. Seeing my mother’s happily ever after destroyed made me want to shy away from anything that could wreck me that way.

Life changed for me when Dad passed away four years ago. I had big plans before he got sick. I won a baseball scholarship to UC San Diego and the beginnings of my future were wrapped up with a neat little bow. Then the cancer showed up and my life did a complete 360. I watched as a devastating illness stole the only hero I’d ever known in a matter of six months. Six freaking months from the time he was diagnosed with a brain tumor he was gone. My father. The man who was there for me every step of the way. My best friend, my confidante, my rock. The man who sat with tireless patience while I struggled to learn Chopsticks. The man who went against my mother’s wishes on a regular basis so I could have my favorite ice cream before dinner. The man who showed me how to play my first air guitar. The man who taught me how to throw the best curveball, but not how to handle the curveball I was thrown when he disappeared from my life. I dropped out of school for a year and later enrolled at Glendale College so I could be there for my mom, my brother, Colt, and my sister, Delilah. They needed me more than UC San Diego did.

You see, I’m the oldest. The big brother. The responsible one. The one who looks after everyone, kicks the occasional ass, tells someone to fuck off. That’s how it’s always been and I don’t think twice about it because that’s how much they mean to me.

After my dad died, I broke it off with Lila, my girlfriend of two years, and basically started screwing everything in sight. I don’t know if it was out of anger or grief, I just know I didn’t feel anything … and that felt really … good.

I spot Tracy Mercer as I walk past the Psychology building. She purrs my name in that sultry voice as she strolls by me, her long blonde hair fanning her scrumptious breasts, her hips and heart-shaped ass swaying as she moves. She was last month’s flavor … probably my favorite one this year. That is, until she started looking at me with puppy dog eyes and telling me she wanted more. That’s when I suddenly lost my appetite.

Then there’s Shelby. She can be a bit annoying sometimes. Her blonde hair comes straight from a bottle and she talks a lot, but her tits are amazing, and her hands and mouth, well, she knows how to use them.

My feet continue to trail a path across the dewy grass, the cool breeze hitting my face as I make my way to the brick building housing the campus library. I pull off my aviator sunglasses and hook them over the ridge of my t-shirt, exhaling a groan of silent protest. Today’s just another day of going through the motions. My mind runs through the exams I need to study for and the work I need to get done around the house when I push through the double glass doors of the library and see … her.

She looks just like an angel.

The sight of her makes my dick hard. An involuntary shudder courses through me, my pulse thrashes against my neck, and my heart beats vigorously inside my chest. Soft waves of chestnut curls dance over her shoulder, her skin is so flawless it’s reminiscent of swirled cream, and her perfectly-shaped lips, lips the exact color of raspberries, beckon to me. Her curves are framed by a blue and white floral dress, her sweet face consumed by a pair of large, black-rimmed glasses. Wait, that’s odd. It doesn’t fit the rest of the picture.

I continue to watch her as she checks books out for students yet, still doesn’t look up. I shuffle my feet along the dark brown rug and wait for her eyes to come to me but I get nothing in response.

Adding a sharp cough to the shuffle ought to do it. Hmph.

She continues to look down at her books, completely disinterested. Highly unusual.

I’m not liking it and I intend on changing it. A challenge … yeah, I’m up for it. Thinking fast, I swipe a book off the shelf and toss it on the counter in hopes I can meet her eyes. She moves her painted fingers toward my book and flips it over. A laugh tickles her throat as her head bobs from side to side. When I stare down at the counter it all makes sense. Pleasing Your Man: Everything You Don’t Want to Ask but Need to Know. Well, I guess I’ve got her attention now.

She slowly lifts her eyes to mine and any ideas I had in my head go right out the fucking window because those eyes that are peering up at me from behind the peculiar glasses, those globes of rich chocolate brown, well, they’re the most hypnotic pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. I could swim in those eyes. Those are the kind of eyes you get lost in, and right now, fuck if I don’t want to get all kinds of lost.

It feels like time stands still as we stare at one another, and after about three minutes, she finally breaks the silence and speaks.

Needing ideas, are you? she says softly, a hint of a smile curling up her shapely lips.

My face warms at her words but I manage to recover quickly. Actually, it’s, uh, for my sister.

Her smile becomes tight, her eyes descend, and she seems … nervous. She stares blankly at the book as she scans it. Well, tell her it’s due back in two weeks, she offers, then turns around and starts sorting books again.

For a second there, I thought we had a moment, but I guess it was just me having one.

I walk over to one of the tables, reminding myself I have to study, but have a hard time concentrating … especially when there’s something so spectacular in my field of vision. As I attempt to bury my head in capital asset pricing models, my eyes keep rising from the words and looking over behind the counter. I watch her as she continues to check books out for students but rarely makes eye contact with anyone. She really is quite stunning; well, except for those glasses. They’re about three sizes too big for her face and hide such beautiful eyes.

She finally comes out from behind the desk, rolling a cart filled with books across the library. As she traipses by my table, I stretch my arms to the side, yawn, and flex my ripped chest thinking that might earn a look, but she doesn’t even flinch. Let’s face it. There aren’t many girls I can’t make look at me. It’s not that I’m conceited, but I’ve been told many times that I got my devastatingly handsome looks from my dad. Six foot one, solid triceps and biceps due to all the sports I used to play, a six pack from the constant workouts at the gym, and that V thing that all the girls go crazy over. My dark hair is cropped short and my eyes are hazel, just like my dad’s. And I have a pronounced jaw, also a gift from Dad.

When she walks back a second time, I don’t say anything, but blatantly check her out. She’s quite curvy and she has a perfect ass. I should know. I’ve seen quite a few. It’s funny. I should be thinking about her lush, full lips wrapped around my cock, but surprisingly, I’m not. It’s her eyes that are consuming me. I need to see them again. But it’s after ten and I need to get to class. I’ll be back, though. I’ll definitely be back.

I hear Mom call me down for breakfast, but can’t get out of bed. The bright sun filters through the sheer blue curtains and shines directly on my hard-on. I’m about to put my hand in my boxers to relieve myself when I hear a knock at the door.

It creaks open slowly and Mom peeks her head around. Ash, it’s time to get up, honey, it’s almost 7:30.

So much for relief.

I know, Mom, I’m up. Literally. I’ll be down in a few minutes.

Alright, sweetie. Everyone else is dressed, so hurry up.

I take a look around my room. The blue walls covered with band posters of Creed and Train, the four shelves of baseball trophies, pictures of Dad and me when he was coaching Little League, and an old 8 x 10 photo of the five of us in Disneyland. My eyes land on the Ibanez guitar Dad bought for me when I was fourteen. The one I haven’t been able to play since he died.

This wasn’t in my life plan either, but things change. Jason and I were supposed to get an apartment together and have the full college experience, but I felt like my being around was the glue that kept Mom, Colt, and Delilah together. So here I am, twenty-two years old and living at home.

Mom closes the door and I drag my legs and ass out of bed. I retrieve a towel from my closet and head for the shower when I notice the man pleaser book sitting on the desk. I shake my head and grin all the way to the bathroom. Pulling the curtain aside, I step into the stream of warm water and relish in the feel of it rolling over my body, my mind filled with only one thing: a visual of those brown eyes. For some reason, I can’t get them out of my head.

I trek downstairs past the rows of family pictures lining the wall and smile, immediately noticing the aroma of pancakes wafting through the air. Mom makes us breakfast every morning, sometimes pancakes, sometimes waffles, but always delicious. I love the way our house smells in the morning. Morning! I call to my brother and sister.

What’s up, Ash? They both say at the same time.

JINX … you owe me a Coke, Delilah says.

I don’t owe you anything, Colt bites back.

I flick his shoulder with my finger. What’s your problem, Colt?

He takes a glass and slams the cabinet shut. Oh, I don’t know. Mom said I can’t take the car for a week because of my little drunken stupor the other night.

Makes sense. And the problem is?

Colt does whatever the hell he wants and there’s a part of me that’s always been a bit jealous of that side of him. Being the oldest you’d think that would be me, but I’m stuck with an innate sense of responsibility that holds me back.

He fills his glass with orange juice and protests. Well, how am I going to pick Stacy up without a car? Stacy is the girl Colt just started dating, or should I say woman. She’s five years older and I can’t figure out for the life of me what she’s doing with him. It’s pretty clear what he’s doing with her.

I pile two pancakes on a plate and douse them with maple syrup and butter. Well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you went heavy on the Jack.

He groans, snatches a pancake, and stomps outside to wait for his friend Charlie.

Boy, he’s a grumpkin, isn’t he? Delilah grins as I stoop to kiss her cheek.

Good morning, baby sister, and yes, he is a bit of a … what’d you call him?

She smiles, her prominent cheekbones lifting happily. A grumpkin.

Yeah, that. So do you want a ride to campus?

Sure, that’d be great, Ash, thanks.

Delilah, Colt, and I all attend the same local college. I’m a senior, Delilah’s a junior, and Colt’s a freshman. We’re incredibly close in age and obviously Mom and Dad were very busy in the bedroom. Of course, parents and sex shouldn’t even be in the same sentence. Enough said.

Mom walks in with my favorite morning smile on her face, the one that says she’s optimistic and ready for whatever life throws her way. Her raven hair dances along the nape of her neck, her heels clicking happily along the tile floor. She’s smartly dressed in a tan skirt, a green blouse that brings out the emerald of her eyes, and some sort of designer shoes. Women and their shoes, I’ll never understand it. Owning a trendy salon in Los Angeles keeps her pretty busy, although she tries to be around for us as much as possible. She takes the special coffee cup I left out for her, the one we made eight years ago at the local pottery shop with all of our names on it. Morning, she enthuses, pouring some coffee from the pot. Where’s Colt?

Delilah talks with a mouthful of pancake and spits some in the air. Grumpkin left already, she giggles.

Who? Mom asks, her brows knitting together, confusion overtaking her pretty face.

I take another forkful of pancake. It’s Colt’s new nickname.

Mom’s used to our banter and lets out a happy sigh as she walks toward the sink. Oh.

Since Dad died, the three of us have been her life, for better or for worse. As difficult as it is for me to think about her with another man, there are times when I wish she had that companionship.

I shovel my pancake in and look over at my sister. Delilah, are you about ready? I want to get to class a bit early today.

Shock forces its way out of Mom’s magnetic green eyes. Since when do you want to get to class early?

Well, I need to work on my Econ paper … and I think there’s something I need in the library.

Delilah grabs her backpack and Mom gives us both a kiss before we head out. I slide in behind the steering wheel, noting Delilah’s glazed expression as she stares at the gray colonial with black shutters and a wraparound porch that has been our home since we were born. The bushes and trees are finely manicured and a white fence surrounds the property.

I take in her profile and the sentimental grin making the side of her lip quiver. What are you thinking about, baby girl?

She points a finger toward the house. I was just remembering helping Dad outside while he was trimming the bushes, the radio blasting to that oldies station he loved, his voice so loud it carried through the neighborhood. I miss that … hearing him sing. She sighs. All I did was stand there holding that silly plastic bag open for him, but he always made me feel like I had the most important job in the world.

I reach across the seat and give her hand a soft squeeze, recalling those happy times. Yeah, I know.

Starting the ignition, I tear out of the driveway and down the cul-de-sac. Delilah scrunches up her nose in disapproval. She thinks I drive like a daredevil. Yeah, right. Probably the only one in Glendale.

On the way to school, she raises the volume on the radio, and I proceed to lower it.

Hey, she mutters, I was listening to that.

I hesitate for a split second. I … I wanted to ask you something.

She turns and gives me her full attention. Yeah, what?

Do you know that girl in the student library?

Delilah takes a piece of gum out of a foil wrapper and pops it in her mouth. What girl?

I chew on the inside of my lip. You know … the one that checks out the books? I’ve never seen her before.

Recognition hits her immediately. Oh, you mean Cara Hayward?

Cara. A pretty name for a pretty girl. You know her? What’s her deal?

She blows a giant bubble and pops it with her finger. Yeah. She transferred here middle of last year. She tutors a friend of mine in my creative writing class. Why do you want to know?

Just answer the question, Delilah.

She chews on her gum like a cow grazing in a field. I don’t know. She’s kind of weird, or shy … or something. I never see her with anyone. She’s a bit of a loner. Wait a minute, Ash, if you’re thinking you’re gonna get in her pants, think again.

For fuck’s sake, Delilah, that’s not all I think about.

She arches a brow. "Oh no? This is me you’re talking to."

I grip the steering wheel and blow out a breath. "Okay, well, not all the time."

Yeeeeaaah, she jeers, then turns the music back up and moves her head in time with the beat of Maroon 5.

Cara. I like the way it rolls off my tongue.

The campus parking lot’s packed when we get to school; as usual. No sooner have I opened my door when Shelby has her arms wrapped around my neck and her tongue down my throat. Considering