Insuppressible: Landstad, #4

By Alie Garnett

Hazel stopped living for herself at seventeen, instead she lives the dreams of her lost siblings. Until a chance encounter at a party changes everything.

Years ago Hazel May had turned away from the music she loved to farm alongside her grandparents. Contently she had raised her son, and didn't make waves. Except for once a month, when a band from the city let her be a musician again, two songs at a time.

Which is how she found herself in the middle of a crowd of drunk college students and one possibly not drunk preacher. Not just any preacher, her preacher handsome Ruston Abbott, the one she saw every week. How could she resist dancing with him? Talking to him? Being alone with him? Which was how he blew her boots off, literarily and figuratively, forcing her to drive home barefoot.

Now she has to watch him week after week and think about him in a way she shouldn't. Because Hazel wasn't the sort of woman he needed in his life. After she had a fatherless son and the reputation to match. And she couldn't forgive his god for taking her family from her. Or leaving her behind.

Except their future is torn out of her control as gossip swirls around town. Is she marrying him to save his job or for more selfish reasons? Is it possible she can make a future from the ashes of her past? Can she dream for herself for once?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alie Garnett
• Release date: Apr 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781954672222

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

All of Ruston Abbott’s senses told him this was not the sort of place he should be at. When Thomas had told him they were going to a party, he had expected a small gathering of people his age—not a raging college house party. Sure, Thomas was a year younger than him, but Thomas was still twenty-seven. Even he was too old to be drinking with college kids.

Ruston Abbott and Thomas Harstad had grown up not far from the old two-story house full of young people the party was taking place at. Calling them young people, that should say how old Ruston was right there.

Tonight, they had walked there from his mom and dad’s house, that was how close he was to getting home. Thomas had assured him it was going to be a small gathering with friends. If Thomas knew any of these people, he would eat his sock. His friend was a social butterfly, though, so he probably knew them all now.

It was almost 10:00 p.m., and the house was so full of people he could barely move. He should just go back home, leave Thomas behind. The last time he saw the younger man, he had been making out in the corner with a woman Ruston was sure he hadn’t known an hour ago.

This was not the sort of place he should be. The music was blaring from the corner of what he assumed was the living room. He had been surprised to see the live band because the house was way too small for that.

Ruston glanced again at his friend in the corner, but he had vanished. Now he was alone in the house full of young people. Young drunk people. How many were underage? How long until the cops were called?

This party could be the end of his career. Ruston knew all it would take was one arrest at a house party full of underage drinkers, and his position at the church would be over—and any other church he wanted to work at. His life would be over, and for what, this?

For the last two years, he had been the preacher at a little church a short two-hour drive from this house. It was a nice little church full of people who looked up to him as a pillar of the community. If he got arrested, that would all be gone.

Why had he stayed this long? Maybe he missed being around rowdy young people just having a good time. Shaking his head, getting his senses back, he knew he was past that time in his life. He was a twenty-eight-year-old preacher now, not a kid.

Turning, he started to make his way to the door to get out of there. As he weaved his way through the large crowd to the door, he realized the band had stopped. The young people had stopped moving to the music, making it easier to get through them. Though not as simple as he would like.

He had almost made it all the way to the door when a new band started. Immediately, he recognized the song from parties he had gone to when he was young, but this was the first time he had heard it as a solo unaccompanied only by a guitar. A woman with a voice like an angel started the first lines of Life in a Northern Town with just a lone guitar accompanying her.

Stopping, he turned to see a young woman standing center stage, looking down at the guitar as she played. Her hair was almost white, short, and had been spiked out all over her head. Her makeup was heavy with black rings around her eyes. She was wearing a black tank top and a black leather mini skirt. The army boots were tied loosely on her feet. She looked like a punk rocker, but the song was in contrast to her looks.

His feet were frozen as she continued to sing, slipping into the chorus for the first time; alone and with no support from other band members. As he watched, she looked up from the guitar and scanned the room in front of her. Ruston gasped as her eyes caught his in the crowded room.

Hazel May.

The name ran through his head along with dozens of images of her over the past two years. Every week he saw that face looking back at him from the pews as he preached. Every week she sat next to her grandma and grandpa, Rose and John May. Every week she had her son John on her lap. Every week she had her short blonde hair laying nicely on her head, never standing up like tonight, and she never wore any makeup. She never sang during the songs about God, Jesus, and being saved, but now she poured her heart into this sad song. Her fingers didn’t miss a beat; her voice hit every note perfectly. Though he had heard singing every week of his life, he had never heard a voice as serene as hers. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as the song came to an end, her hazel eyes on him.

Hazel with the hazel eyes. Hazel with the sad eyes. Hazel, who never smiled.

With the song over, he didn’t know what to do. He should leave, but he couldn’t walk away from her. On stage, she looked down at the guitar again. When she started the next song, the crowd started to cheer, and Ruston grinned as he saw her smile at their reaction without looking up. Though the song was different with just her playing the guitar, he recognized it as a popular Taylor Swift song on the radio all the time. It was more upbeat than the last one she had played, and some in the crowd sang along as she belted out the song. She didn’t catch his eye again as she sang. This time, her eyes kept moving around the room, looking at everyone but him.

As the song came to an end, the band came back on stage, and she handed off the guitar as she jumped down. He lost her in the crowd immediately, as she was not a tall girl. Woman, she was a woman. She had a three-year-old son, though he had no idea how old she was.

With the band back on stage, the volume raised as their multiple instruments started their first song. A slow one to get the crowd dancing, he assumed. With a sigh, he turned once again to leave when someone grabbed the back of his shirt and said, Dance, preacher man.

Turning, he saw the woman who had just held the crowd in her hands, but more importantly, him. Knowing he should leave, he instead turned, following her back into the room to dance with her. There was no way he could say no to her. Pulling her warm, barely clothed body into his arms, he felt her arms go around his neck. He was a little surprised when she rested her head on his chest and that her hair didn’t poke into him like the pins it looked like.

Neither said anything as the song played loudly over them. Swaying gently to the music, he didn’t even know what to say to the young woman. He was lost for words, but right then, he could barely remember how to put words together.

Why had she wanted to dance with him? Why him, of all people? Had they ever actually talked before?

Pulling away, she lowered her arms from around his neck where her fingers had been tapping to the beat of the music and slid them down to his waist, where she put a hand on either of his hips.

Leaning up so that her mouth was close to his ear, she whispered, You have no rhythm, preacher man.

He leaned his head down to her ear. You have enough for both of us.

His heart raced as he watched her laugh. He couldn’t hear it over the music, but it made her face light up. At that moment, he knew he had never seen her laugh or smile or sing until tonight. Every week for two years, he had seen no emotion in her.

The song was winding down, and she pulled out of his arms and grabbed his hand. He let her pull him through the crowd. For some reason, he wanted to do whatever she was planning for them. He watched as she looked around a little and then brought him up the stairs in the back of the house. At the top, she led him into the first door she saw.

Once in the room, she turned and pulled him back into the position they had been dancing in when they were in the middle of the crowd. A new song had started, faster than the last, but her movements were the same. He just held her in his arms and danced, letting her set the pace.

With his hands around her waist, they swayed to the music coming through the floor from below. They could barely hear the words, just the bass. He felt her sigh in his arms, and ever so quietly, she started to sing the song the band was playing downstairs. Her fingers drummed in time to the beat on his neck again. It was calming.

When the song ended, a new song came on, but she didn’t start singing this one. Instead, without moving her head from his chest, she said huskily, So, what are you doing here, preacher man? Are you here for the alcohol? The drugs? Sex? All of it?

Ruston, he rasped, wanting to hear her say his name.

Ruston, she repeated after him, mimicking his tone.

I was here with a friend. He left, I think. Ruston didn’t even care anymore; Thomas was old enough to take care of himself.

Why didn’t you leave? She asked the question he had been asking himself.

I was going to, but then I heard you singing. I had to stay. You have a beautiful voice, Hazel. They swayed back and forth.

No, I don’t. I just like to sing sometimes. Her words were almost too quiet to hear over the music, but then she started quietly singing the song that the band was playing.

Swaying in a bedroom of a stranger, all he felt was that this was perfect. That all that had happened in his life had led him to this moment, this place. This woman.

As the song ended on a low, sad note, he felt her go still as the band stopped playing. Just holding her in his arms, he had a disconcerting feeling he wanted to kiss her, needed to kiss her. But before he could make a move, she pulled out of his arms as a fast song started up. She started to dance with fast, rhythmic movements that seemed so natural for her and said, I love this song.

Ruston couldn’t tell if he had heard the song before or not. He just stood there trying to decide if he could even dance like she was dancing; he wanted to, but he knew it wasn’t as easy as she made it look. After all, she had been right—he had no rhythm.

Come on, Ruston, dance. Don’t make me dance alone. She moved around the room.

I don’t really know how to dance fast, he admitted.

At his words, she stopped in the middle of the room and walked back to where he stood. Well, first, you look like a preacher man. A little too uptight. She grabbed the button-up shirt he wore and pulled it free from his jeans. Then she unbuttoned the two buttons on top. There.

Will that make me dance better? he teased.

No, but it will make you not look so out of place. Then she looked into his eyes, and with a sly smile, she reached up and ran her hands through his hair. Cocking her head, she did it again. Not so uptight now.

With her hands still in his hair, her small body was pressed tight to his. Her every curve pressed into him as those hazel eyes held his while she pulled his head down to hers. Sliding his eyes from hers to her lips, he watched her bite down on that delicate, plump lower lip as she brought his head the rest of the way to her lips.

No gentle kiss for Hazel, he realized immediately as her tongue plunged through his parted lips. Electricity ran through his body as he pulled her tight to him. Had it been so long since he had actually kissed a woman that he instantly needed to feel more of her? Have more of her?

His hands slid up from her waist to her hair—he needed to touch the blonde spikes. To his surprise, they were softer than he had imagined they would be. With his hands on her head, he tilted it so he could have better access to her mouth as their tongues battled.

Feeling her hands leave his hair, she slipped them under his untucked shirt. Over his stomach and chest, they slowly slid, raking her fingernails across his skin as she moved. At his shoulders, she switched directions and sent the nails down his body in the same way they had come.

He knew he needed to stop right now, but the feelings flooding him were overruling his head. Months of celibacy and this woman in his arms won out, and with a groan of defeat, his hands slid from her hair to her shoulders. Then, without thought of what he was doing, he slipped the thin shoulder straps of her tank top and bra strap over her pale shoulders and slid them down her arms. Pulling back from the kiss, his lust-fueled eyes focused on her breasts as they came into view, pink nipples already peaked, temping him to touch. Giving in, he ran a thumb over each one at once and was rewarded by her moan of pleasure.

His mind returned for a moment, and he knew he should stop—had to stop—but when she leaned back, shoving her breasts more into his hands, he decided to wait a moment longer. Enjoy the pale, perky globes for just a bit longer since they were a perfect fit for his hands.

Needing just a simple taste, he leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Circling it over and over with his tongue, he felt her hands in his hair again. Somehow, she had freed her arms from the sleeves of her tank top and bra and had her hands in his hair, holding his head as if she needed it.

With force, she lifted his head away from her breasts and back to her lips as she plunged her tongue into his again. His hands going to her hips, he ground his ridged cock into her.

Ruston, stop this, his mind said, but his body was overriding his mind as her hand slid under his shirt again. Her nails bit into his skin, and he groaned, mind lost.

Tearing her mouth from his again, she buried her head in his neck and bit down lightly, kissed the spot, and then raised up on her toes and bit his ear lobe. His complete focus was on what her mouth was doing to him, which made him miss what her hands were up to. Until her small hand closed over his cock, hot and firm. Hissing out a breath, he swore as her hand ran from base to tip and back again ever so slowly. Her hand did it again as she plunged her tongue back into his mouth.

All senses were focused on what her hand was doing that he could barely concentrate on the kiss. Her hand motions started to increase, and all he could do was close his eyes, lean his head back and moan. When she stopped abruptly, her thumb caressed the tip, and he hissed a curse. It was then that he felt her tongue replace her thumb as it slid over the tip, and then she blew on it.

He was completely lost as she pushed his pants down until they were at his knees. There was nothing that could make him leave this room right now; his job be damned, he was staying. He was hers as she took him fully into her mouth.

Cursing again, he let her push him over, and he fell flat on his back on the bed behind him. Her mouth never left his erection, never stopping the steady caress of her lips and tongue. On his back, all he focused on was her mouth and watching that spiky hair.

Closing his eyes, he focused on not coming in her mouth, something that he was surprised he could even control anymore. He was out of practice, but she wasn’t. As if she could feel he was losing the battle, her mouth gave his tip one last swirl, and she replaced it with her hand again. With slow and steady caresses again, he was getting back some control, so he opened his eyes and pushed up on his elbows, wanting to see Hazel again, needing to see what she was going to do next. Instead, he was met with the scene and sensation of her sliding him into her hot, wet folds. Slowly, he watched as his erection disappeared under her hiked-up leather skirt. The tight, wet feel of being inside her made him swear.

You say a lot of dirty words when you fuck, preacher man. Her voice was raspy as she started to rock her hips.

I never have before, he admitted as he watched her throw her head back and increase the tempo. He didn’t move, just let her set the pace. Just let her take control. It was all he could do to watch her ride his cock, her eyes pressed closed and her breasts bouncing.

She must have realized that he wasn’t moving, just watching her, so she stopped and stared down at him. Then, with both hands, she grabbed his shirt in her fists and pulled herself down so that their mouths were almost touching. She whispered, Fuck me, Ruston. Fuck me hard.

That was all he needed. Rolling her over so that she was on her back, legs wrapping around him, he started to move—fast. Though his pants were still around his ankles, he wasn’t letting it slow him down, and he wasn’t taking the time to get them off. Her heels pressed into his lower back, and he realized that at some point she had lost her oversized boots.

When she increased the tempo again, he was okay with her setting the speed. Grabbing her hips as