The Princess and The Jester: Westbrook three, #3

By A.D. McCammon

Cole Masterson is an imposter.

Fake. Phony. Liar.

And, once upon a time, he was mine.

He's the fearsome jester of Westbrook High, and I'm the spoiled princess. They don't know the real Cole—not the way I did. He's been a stranger to me for years, pretending to be one of them. And I'm desperate for him to see me again.

Until he moved in down the hall. Now, there's no escaping his hungry emerald gaze or wickedly sexy smile.

 

Gwendolyn Rhodes is one of the rich elite.

Privileged. Entitled. Pampered.

She's out of my league. No matter what I do to fit in, they'll always see me as the housekeeper's son. I've tried to forget about her—to move on with my life.

But I let her games pull me back in. All bets were off the second I got too close to her.

She's been messing with my head, but I've changed the rules.

She didn't plan to wager her heart.

But I'm playing for keeps.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.D. McCammon
• Release date: Dec 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9798201608347

A.D. McCammon

Amber McCammon is a daughter, sister, wife, mother, and avid reader who also happens to write contemporary romance/women's fiction. She currently has three self-published novels, In This Moment, Crushed, and In the Gray. All of which are part of a standalone series. The fourth is expected to release in late 2018.  Amber lives in Tennessee, born and raised, though she recently left her heart in the PNW. She's a Ravenclaw, fall is her favorite season, and she believes that music is food for the soul.

Book preview

PRESENT

GWEN

Mia is still yammering on excessively as the driver pulls into my driveway. She hasn’t stopped bragging about the guy she met at the Billie Eilish concert since we left, making the short drive back from Nashville seem never ending. It’s not like this is anything new for her; Mia gets hit on by guys everywhere we go. She’s just that type—blonde, tall, thin, tan. The kind that makes girls like me feel invisible to the male population when you’re standing next to them.

Unlike most girls I know though, Mia always demands they acknowledge me.

This is my best friend, Gwen. Isn’t she gorgeous?

It’s one of the many reasons I love her so much. The first time she did it, I was floored. And a little bit embarrassed.

It almost feels like a test in a way. Seeing if they’re worth her time by gauging how they treat me. However, I certainly don’t care if some fuck boy who can’t even remember your name at the end of the conversation notices me.

There’s only one guy I want to pay attention to me, and there’s no chance of that happening. He hasn’t seen me—really seen me—for years. His stare holds nothing except cold disdain for me now. And maybe I deserve that. I’m the bitch who broke his heart, after all. He’ll never let me get close to him again.

Hello, Mia says, earth to Gwen.

Her mouth twists with annoyance as I meet her gaze. What?

You haven’t heard a single word I said, she huffs. And your eyes have been glued to your phone most of the night. Are you expecting a life-altering phone call or something?

My gaze flickers down to the iPhone tightly gripped in my hand, the lit screen mocking me with the lack of notifications. There hasn’t been a single message from him for weeks. I’m not sure if he figured me out or simply got bored. It’s a blessing in disguise. Whatever was going on between us needed to stop, and I was clearly too weak to put an end to what I started.

Oh, sorry. I shove the phone into my purse and give her an apologetic smile. I must’ve zoned out for a minute.

Is there a boy you’re not telling me about?

My chest tightens as I shake my head. She doesn’t know anything about the weeks I spent exchanging messages with a certain boy. That’s a secret I plan to take to my grave. It’s too pathetic. No way am I going to admit to it out loud. Nope.

I’m as single as they come. No boyfriends; not even a date in years. I’ve only had the one. Not that anyone knows about him either. My love life, or lack thereof, is tragic.

Her head tilts, pity weighing down her features. You know it’s because guys are intimidated by you, right?

My best friend means well, but her need to make me feel better only makes me more self-conscious. It’s not that I think I’m ugly. But I’m the you’ve got such a gorgeous face girl or the you’d be a knockout if you lost some weight girl. By society’s beauty standards, I’m too curvy to be beautiful. It’s something I’ve lived with my entire life. Even my own mother makes me insecure about my weight—constantly purchasing health-conscious foods and making comments about my eating habits. Which are no different than Mia’s. Yet she’s a perfect size six, while I’m double that.

Learning to love yourself isn’t easy, especially when everything and everyone says you shouldn’t. It’s taken me years to look in the mirror and not hate what I see. I’m still a work in progress, but I’ve come a long way from my eating disorder days.

I scoff as the driver parks outside my front door. You’re so full of shit, but I appreciate it.

Stop that, she scolds, playfully swatting my arm. Half the guys at Westbrook High would be lining up to date you if they thought they had a chance. Cory has been trying to get your number since freshman year. The problem is you’re too picky.

She’s not totally wrong about that. Only it’s not by choice. The heart wants what the heart wants, and mine belongs to someone already. Even if he stopped claiming it.

Wanting to date someone you can hold an intelligible conversation with isn’t too much to ask, I deride. Cory’s sweet, but I think he’s been hit in the head one too many times.

Cory is like one of those token characters you see in teen movies. The ones that are cute and sweet but painfully dumb. I can’t imagine what the two of us would even talk about. We have absolutely nothing in common.

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t considered it, though. During those really hard times when I was sick of the constant heartache.

Who cares if he’s not a great conversationalist? That’s what your girlfriends are for. His mouth can serve you in other ways. Mia laughs as I cringe, and the driver lets out a choking cough.

My face heats, eyes flickering to the driver. He’s looking at his phone, trying desperately to pretend he’s not hearing anything we’re saying.

Okay, ew, I hiss in a whisper. I don’t want his mouth anywhere near me.

Fine. She shrugs, rolling her eyes. It doesn’t have to be Cory, but you can’t hold on to your V-card forever.

Guilt knots in my stomach. Mia was oddly proud sophomore year when she was the first of our friends to lose her virginity. She had no clue I’d lost mine the year prior to the boy I loved. If I admitted to having sex, she would’ve wanted to know with whom. And telling her would’ve led to more questions I’m not willing to answer. As bad as it makes me feel keeping something so big from my best friend, it’s just easier to let her go on believing the lie of omission.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over to give her quick a hug. On that note, I’m going inside.

She chuckles. Bye. Call me tomorrow.

Mia moved to Westbrook at the beginning of our sophomore year and automatically claimed me as her bestie. Like she knew how badly I needed a new buddy at that time. I’d just lost my best friend of nearly ten years, and my heart was broken. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without her the last two years.

Exhaustion sets in as I make my way from the car and into the house. It’s dark and quiet inside. Most parents would worry about their child attending a concert in downtown Nashville, but it’s not all that shocking that mine aren’t here to greet me or make sure I made it home safely.

My mother runs her own ballet school, also in Nashville. That’s her real baby, her pride and joy. And my father is an entertainment lawyer. He literally never stops working.

I pull my shoes off at the bottom of the stairs before beginning the climb, my steps sluggish by the time I reach the top, the promise of a hot shower and the comfort of my bed propelling me forward.

I’m already peeling the dirty clothes from my body as I enter my bedroom, making a beeline for the shower. The delightfully scolding water melts away all the grime from being in a crowd of people, and twenty minutes later, my tired body is wrapped up in a towel.

There isn’t enough energy left in me to even bother with putting on pajamas, so I head straight for bed. A shadowy figure on the top of my mattress catches my eye as I enter my room, and my stomach does a free fall. I freeze, but the fear strangling my throat keeps my scream from escaping.

The shape moves and there’s a click before my lamp lights the room. My lashes flutter as my eyes adjust, my panic increasing once I finally get a good look at what or who is on my bed.

"Welcome home, Princess."

He looks very comfortable, all sprawled out with his arms folded behind his head and feet crossed. The buttons on his shirt are undone, putting his bare chest and abdomen on display. His sandy blond hair is disheveled in a way that makes him look insanely gorgeous. The jeans he’s wearing rest low on his hips, the top band of his Calvin Klein boxers peeking out.

The image is much like the ones I’ve imagined countless times before, and for a brief moment I wonder if this is all a dream. Until I notice the sparkle of mischief in his emerald eyes as his lips curl into a villainous grin.

This is no dream, it’s a nightmare.

Oh god. He knows it was me.

Icy panic floods my veins, my mind scrambling for a plausible excuse or explanation for what I’ve done. I merely wanted to talk to him. Not the exchange of blows that seems to be our normal form of communication these days. A real conversation. Yes, it was deceptive. But it’s not like I intentionally tricked him.

Cole? Terror is palpable in my voice, and I clear my throat, feigning a calm indifference to his presence as I continue. What the hell are you doing in my house?

"Technically, this is our house." The cavalier response holds a sinister tone, warning me of his cruel intentions.

My limbs begin to tremble, fighting off the chill of my fright. You haven’t lived here for two years, Cole.

It feels more like a lifetime; the nearly ten years we shared here nothing more than fading memories I’m desperately clinging to.

I try to recall the last time we were in my bedroom together. Had we laughed? Did he hold me? Tell me he loved me? Had I said it back?

But the only memory I can grasp is the very one I’d like to forget forever. The night I made him believe I didn’t want him. The one that changed him. When I lost his love and earned his hate.

A crushed soul and broken heart are no good to me.

True. He stretches like a cat lazing about and sits up, locking his hard glare onto me as he places his feet on the floor. And I know you’ve been so torn up over it. But the good news is I’m back. All moved in right down the hall.

He stands, and I instinctively scoot back as my head shakes in protest. You’re lying. I talked to my mom this morning. She didn’t say anything about you living here.

Yeah…I asked Nina and Mark to let me surprise you. His dark chuckle keeps me rooted while he moves closer, the heat of his body blanketing over my exposed skin as he invades my space. "Surprise."

His proximity makes me acutely aware that the only thing covering me is a small floral towel, and I cross my arms over my chest. Get out of my room.

He snorts at my feeble attempt to sound stern. No need to be modest on my account. I rather enjoyed your little striptease when you came in. My veins heat with embarrassment, and Cole’s lips spread wide as he reaches out to brush his thumb over my reddening cheek. Don’t be shy. It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before, Princess. In fact, there isn’t a single inch of this luscious body of yours I haven’t touched or tasted.

My eyelids fall as his fingertips run down my neck, across my collarbone, and over my shoulder. It’s been so long since I’ve felt his touch, and I revel in it. Once upon a time, he was mine—my everything.

When I open my eyes again, the resentment and malice in Cole’s gaze is gone. They’ve been replaced with a swirl of lust and sadness, his brow stiff with contemplation. The air in my lungs stills as he leans in like he’s about to kiss me, but his lips bypass mine and land on my temple instead.

Playing with you is going to be so much fun, he whispers in my ear.

There’s a wickedly sexy grin on his face as he backs away, his eyes hungrily roaming over me. Then he turns on his heel and strolls out of my room, his laughter echoing through the hallway.

6 YEARS OLD

COLE

My hair blows in the wind, the grass and trees a blur of green as we cruise down the street. I close my eyes, pretending I’m riding one of the rollercoasters my dad always promised to take me on once I was old enough. Another promise he won’t be able to keep.

Cole Masterson, you’re not a dog, Momma fusses, tugging on my shirt. Pull your head back in the window right now.

I plop down on my bottom, pouting as I cross my arms. But I’m so hot.

My mom gives me a stern look before returning her attention to the road. You’ll survive. There was a time when cars didn’t even have air conditioning.

Rolling my eyes, I huff. The air in our car hasn’t worked for months. It wasn’t so bad in the spring but riding with the windows down doesn’t provide much relief from the summer heat. The sun feels like it’s burning my skin.

Are we there yet? I whine, shifting in my seat.

Mom sighs. Patience, sweet boy. It’s right up here.

We’re moving into our new home today. Mom says it’s really nice and that I’m going to love my new school. But she always says things are great even when they’re really bad. I don’t want to live with strangers. We’ve been just fine on our own.

Momma was so sad when we lost our house after Daddy died. But I think moving from place to place is fun. Sometimes we get to sleep in our car, and it’s like camping out. She worries too much, says I need structure and security—whatever that means.

I don’t want to live with a girl, I grumble.

Don’t act that way. You’re going to like Gwendolyn. It’ll be good for you to have a friend your age at school, too.

That’s gross, Mom. I’m not hanging out with a girl. They have cooties.

You might change your mind about girls one day, she snickers. Either way, you better be on your best behavior. Your daddy was friends with the Rhodes family. It’s very kind of them to open their home to us.

But I thought you said you were going to be working for them? They aren’t doing us a favor if they’re making you earn it.

We’re helping each other out. One day you’ll understand the importance of working for the things you want. Nothing worth having comes easy or free, sweet boy.

She’s said that hundreds of times before. I think we could use a little easy and free in our lives, though. That’s what Daddy wanted for us, but things have been hard on her without him. I just wish there was a way for me to help her.

Daddy said a good woman like you shouldn’t have to work so hard, that it was his job to take care of you. Since he’s gone, I’m the man of the family. Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes will let me work for them instead.

Mom’s sad eyes land on me, her hand shaky as she reaches for the guitar pick secured around my neck. Daddy’s lucky guitar pick. She always gets upset when I bring him up.

That’s very sweet, my love. She clears her throat and focuses on the road again, wiping a tear from her cheek. But there will be plenty of time for you to be a man. You’re only six years old. And I’m afraid there are laws against child labor.

No one would know, I protest. They could pay me under the table.

I don’t really understand what that means, but a couple of places offered to pay her this way. When I asked her about it, she said it meant they wanted her to work for them without the government knowing. I’m not sure why they care who she’s working for.

Momma huffs out a laugh. You’ll be too busy with school anyway.

I groan, hating the thought of going back to school. I’m almost seven, you know.

Did I tell you they have a pool? Mom asks, completely ignoring me.

Her distraction works, and I perk up. Really?

I haven’t been swimming all summer. One of the motels we stayed at had a pool, but it was green and smelly like a swamp.

Uh huh, she hums. And…we’re here. She puts on her turn signal and pulls into a driveway.

My eyes widen as the house comes into view. It’s huge. The biggest one I’ve ever seen. Oh my gosh, you didn’t tell me we were moving into a castle.

Mom giggles. It does look a little like a castle, doesn’t it? She takes a deep breath as she parks the car, smiling at me. Are you ready to start our new adventure?

Nodding eagerly, I unbuckle my seatbelt and rush out of the car. Mom grabs some bags from the backseat before heading toward the front door with me right behind her. As we reach the door, a woman opens it, greeting us with a big smile.

Hello, Lydia. My body stiffens as her gaze slides to me. And this must be little Nicolas.

Cole, I correct.

Momma named me Nicolas after my dad, but everyone calls me Cole.

She gives my shoulder a squeeze—the only reminder I’ll get to watch my manners.

My apologies, Cole. It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Nina. She offers me her hand like I’m an adult, and I shake it as a man steps out behind her. And this is my husband, Mark.

Hey there, little man.

I’m not little, I argue, shaking his hand as well. I was the tallest boy in my class last year. And the doctor told Momma I’d break height records when I was still in her belly. I’ll be taller than you one day.

Mark chuckles, taking my mom’s bags from her. You and Gwen are going to get along perfectly. Let’s go inside and see if we can find her.

Mom and I follow them inside. Our footsteps echo as we enter the large space. It has shiny floors, tall white walls, and a big crystal thing hanging from the high ceiling above our heads. I’ve been in a few hotels downtown with Momma when she was looking for work. They were big and nice, like this place, but we never got to stay for long. They would usually take one look at me before sending her away. It’s hard to believe we’ll be living here. The entryway is bigger than most of the rooms we’ve stayed in.

Gwen, darling, Nina calls up the long staircase for her daughter. Come down, please. Lydia and Cole are here.

A few seconds later, a girl with dark hair wearing a crown and a poofy pink dress walks down the steps. I guess the castle has a real live princess too.

Her lips spread into a smile as she walks toward me, and it makes my stomach feel funny.

I frown back.

Gwen, her mother places a hand on her back, edging her closer to me, this is Cole, Lydia’s son.

Hello, she tries, her hand lifting to wave at me.

When I don’t respond, my mother nudges me. Don’t be rude, son.

Hi, I grumble, offering her my hand the way her parents had done me.

Her cheeks turn pink, her hand hesitating to take mine. Wanting to get this over with, I grab it and shake it. The contact shocks me, like when I drag my feet on the carpet and zap my mother. I quickly pull away, wiping my palm on my cargo shorts.

Gwen, why don’t you show Cole around while we get Lydia all moved in? Nina suggests.

I look at my mom with wide eyes, begging her to save me. She narrows hers in return before giving Nina and Gwen a bright smile. That’s a wonderful idea.

Mom pats my head as she walks off with Nina and Mark, leaving me alone with Gwen.

The girl chews on her lip and eyes me, the pink on her cheeks going red as she shifts side-to-side. Do you like popcorn?

My forehead bunches at her odd question. What?

There’s a popcorn machine in the theater room, she explains.

My stomach rumbles at the mention of food, the granola bar I’d eaten this morning long gone. What the heck is a theater room?

You know. Where we watch movies.

What kind of house has a special room just to watch movies? This place is awesome.

Is there soda too? I ask.

She nods, the smile from a moment ago returning to her face. And candy.

Maybe this place won’t be so bad.

Show me the way, Princess Gwen.

PRESENT

GWEN

My limbs are heavy with exhaustion, the pounding in my head excruciating as I get ready to face the day. There’d be no point in staying in bed. Sleep evaded me all night. Knowing Cole was right down the hall left me on edge. The lock on my door provided no sense of comfort or security, and I found myself listening for him, jumping out of my skin any time there was the slightest creak in the floor.

When my parents arrived home around midnight, I was finally able to close my eyes. Only to wake every thirty minutes with the sensation someone was watching me, my heart racing while my eyes flew around the room. There was never anyone there. It was merely Cole’s presence looming over me.

I still have no clue why he’s here or how long he plans to stay. The prospect of him living with us again is terrifying. Cole hasn’t exactly hidden his hatred for me over the last two years. If he found out I lied to get closer to him, there’s sure