LUCKY KISS Read online

  LUCKY KISS

  Jaxson Kidman

  writing as JL Caid

  Contents

  Foreword

  LUCKY KISS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Hey darlin’

  About the Author

  Foreword

  JL Caid is the pen name for worldwide best selling author Jaxson Kidman.

  * * *

  IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JUST A KISS.

  NOW I’M PREGNANT.

  OKAY, FINE, IT WAS MORE THAN A KISS.

  WAY MORE.

  LUCKY KISS

  When we were younger he told me a kiss would get me pregnant.

  And he tried to kiss me.

  And I hated him.

  I never thought I’d see him again ...

  But when he stumbles into my cafe, hungover, looking for coffee, I finally get to see what became of the bad boy jerk next door.

  Guess what?

  He's a man. ALL MAN.

  That's when things get crazy. Because his eyes are on me and my mind is racing, wondering what could go wrong if I gave him just one quick night. To show him what he could have had if he wasn’t such a fool.

  Well - we kissed.

  And now - I’m pregnant.

  I guess he was right about kissing me… sort of.

  Now I have to figure out how I went from successful business owner to a pregnant, soon-to-be single mother. Unless I call him and tell him. But truthfully, what are the odds of him actually doing the right thing for once in his life?

  1

  (Lauren)

  THEN

  “Why don’t you kiss this then?”

  I was minding my own business. I had my favorite doll in her convertible car, packed up to go the beach. Of course, there was no beach, so I pretend that the one piece of sidewalk that dropped down a few inches was the beach.

  I stood and turned, feeling the anger spread across my face.

  I was not in the mood for this jerk today.

  Or any day.

  Bad enough he lived next to me.

  I was stuck with him.

  So, the only thing I could do was be extra mean and chase him away.

  And today I was going to-

  I opened my mouth to yell at him except I was face to face with a big, ugly frog.

  I was afraid of frogs or anything like that.

  But it was kind of shocking to see one so close to my face.

  I could smell the wet ground on it.

  Asher started to laugh, making kissing sounds as he stood fifteen feet tall over me.

  I hated that boys were taller than girls at our age.

  Except Megan.

  She was super tall.

  So, I hated her too.

  I was short.

  Really short.

  I hated that.

  And I hated that there was a frog shoved into my face.

  And this was Asher I was dealing with. He wasn’t the kind of dumb boy to make a joke. He was the kind to take it as far as he could.

  I made a quick move to get away, but Asher chased after me.

  “Oh, come on, Lauren,” he said as he chased me. “Anthony here has been waiting his entire froggy life for you!”

  I turned again and pointed. “Stay away you jerk.”

  “Make me,” Asher said.

  He puckered his lips and made kissing sounds.

  My cheeks burned red.

  I would never kiss him. Ever.

  He was an evil boy. The worst of the worst.

  I couldn’t wait until one of us moved.

  Asher lunged at me again, cackling with his bright blue eyes and messy blonde hair.

  “Ew!” I cried out as the frog suddenly sailed through the air at me.

  Asher had thrown the frog at me.

  A smidgen of my heart felt bad for the animal, but I figured it could handle itself when it hit the ground. There was no way I was catching the frog. Or holding it. Or kissing it.

  The frog fell into the small patch of grass on the outside of the crooked chain link fence that went around my entire yard.

  The back of my left leg hit the bump in the sidewalk and I fell.

  I let out a yell as I crashed down.

  My butt hit the ground and a pain shot up my back. My hands tried to brace the fall and smashed the sidewalk too.

  This was the point where Asher could try to do something right; offer to help me up and apologize for going too far.

  Instead, he stared down at me as he slowly walked by.

  “Later, Loser Lauren,” he said.

  I swallowed hard and fought back tears.

  I hated him.

  Stupid Asher…

  “Never come back,” I whispered. And then I thought of a nickname for him.

  “Stupid Ash-hole…”

  2

  (Lauren)

  NOW

  The morning rush came and went through PB and no matter how many days I lived it, it was always exhausting. But it was a good exhausting. The cafe was like a little town in the morning. Catching up with everyone about their lives and what was happening at their jobs or around town became a big part of my life.

  Peggy had the gift of gab and I had the gift of management.

  No matter how big the line got, we always managed to get everyone what they needed and made sure they weren’t going to be late for their jobs or whatever they were doing.

  It wasn’t always easy, but it was fun.

  I never thought in a million years of living I would have taken a part time at the age of eighteen only to end up going full time and then being promoted to manager and then having the chance to become a partner in ownership of the business.

  Peggy had become the mother I never had. And in a way the grandmother I had lost. She was my mentor, friend, and knew when to hug me and knew to smack me upside the head when I was being foolish.

  We weren’t rich, but we were happy.

  I could survive and that was all I needed in life.

  PB stood for Peggy’s Bean. I suggested it to her a long time ago because the name it had just never rang the right way to me. It actually came to me as I was quitting. I had a bad day and so did Peggy. We collided, I told her the name was stupid and I quit. When I showed up the next morning to hand in my apron and other stuff, she put me right back to work. Meaning I had no choice but to work for her.

  That was Peggy.

  She was the most important person in my life.

  I stood at the counter, wiping it down as Peggy stood near the window talking to one of the regulars. Margaret had lost her husband a year ago to cancer and spent a lot of time in the cafe. And Peggy was always there for her.

  “Let me do that.”

  Marissa bumped into my shoulder and grabbed the rag.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “You own the place,” she said. “You shouldn’t have to clean.”

  “I can deal with that,” I said.

  Marissa was basically my best friend. She was an aspiring artist and actually was really good. She took
odd jobs to show off her painting and worked at PB’s part-time to cover the rest of her bills. In some ways I was jealous of her living the way she did. Not a care in the world. So free.

  That just wasn’t my style.

  I forever had to have every second planned out, so I could prepare for the good and the bad.

  I carefully watched Marissa work.

  It was hard sometimes to tell her how to do things since she was my best friend. But she handled it pretty well. Or if I got to be too picky, she would try and put me in my place.

  Peggy shuffled her way to the counter with a big smile on her face.

  She was in her seventies and looked like she was in her forties.

  I was in my mid-twenties and felt ready to call it a life.

  Dramatic, I know.

  “What a morning,” Peggy said.

  “I love it,” I said.

  “I think we need to review those orders…”

  “Done and submitted,” I said.

  “But did you-”

  “Check the books and everything,” I said. “It’s done.”

  “When did you do all that?” Peggy asked.

  “Last night.”

  “At home?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, jeez,” Marissa said.

  “Excuse me?” I asked Marissa.

  “You go home from work to keep working?” Marissa asked.

  “I own the place,” I said.

  “So do I,” Peggy said.

  “What do you do when you go home?” I asked Peggy.

  “Have a drink and swipe right,” Peggy said with a wink.

  My jaw dropped. “What? You…”

  “What?” she asked. “It’s something to look at.”

  “Don’t you need a profile picture… never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  Peggy laughed her deep throaty laugh. That came from years of smoking but about five years ago she had a health scare that made her quit.

  “She’s so easy to get worked up,” Peggy said to Marissa.

  I sighed. “Whatever.”

  “I thought you had a date,” Marissa said. “With that guy that comes in here.”

  “Dale,” Peggy said.

  “Yeah, speaking of that,” I said. “He won’t be coming in here anymore.”

  “What did you do?” Peggy asked.

  “Me? It’s all my fault?”

  “Well…,” Marissa said.

  “He has an ant farm,” I said.

  “A what?” Peggy asked.

  “An ant farm,” I said. “Like a giant tank that’s made for ants. I mean, maybe it’s sort of neat to look at once. But to live with that?”

  “Live with that?” Marissa asked. “You were supposed to get a drink or two and get laid.”

  “Marissa,” I snapped.

  “She’s right,” Peggy said. “You need to get laid.”

  I threw my hands up. “This is not happening.”

  “So the guy had an ant farm,” Marissa said. “He was still cute.”

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about the ants,” I said. “Like, if that tank ever cracked… and they crawled everywhere…”

  “You worried about ants crawling up your cooter?” Peggy asked.

  Marissa snorted.

  I smacked my forehead. “Peggy, did you just say cooter?”

  “Yes, I did,” she said.

  I shook my head. “Plus, he didn’t laugh at my joke.”

  “Your joke?” Peggy asked.

  “When I saw the ants… I asked him where he kept the uncles.”

  Peggy just stared. Her eyebrows slowly came together like she was angry.

  I looked at Marissa. She pursed her lips tight and shook her head.

  “To hell with you both,” I said. “That was a good joke.”

  They both still didn’t laugh.

  I growled and walked away.

  It didn’t feel great that someone Peggy’s age was giving me sex advice.

  But there was another part neither Peggy or Marissa knew.

  And that was how long it had actually been since I… you know…

  * * *

  I sat on my bed with stacks of papers and folders with my phone open for the calculator. I had notes, sticky notes in all neon colors, a pencil crushed between my teeth, and a pen in my hand.

  I blinked fast as the numbers and words started to move by themselves on the papers. I lifted my glasses to the top of my head, making me instantly blind.

  Loser Lauren, Four Eyed Freak!

  Hearing that now in my head made me laugh. I couldn’t believe there was a time when that made me so angry.

  Plus, the dumbass who used to say it to me was more than likely in jail or with five kids from five different women.

  And I was…

  I looked around my blurry room.

  I took a deep breath and pulled my glass back down so I could see.

  “Look at me,” I whispered.

  My bed was covered in invoices and receipts and paperwork from the cafe. All stuff that could have been dealt with during normal business hours. There was no reason at all to make things this hectic for myself. But I wanted to keep everything in order, at all times, and stay ahead of any problems.

  I was forever chasing problems that didn’t exist. But it was the only way I knew how to protect myself from problems.

  My TV was barely turned up, playing a cooking competition show. Worse than that, it was the second season which aired about a hundred years ago. I was watching reality TV rerun cooking shows.

  If there was a poster for pathetic, my face would be on it.

  And I’d be smiling proudly.

  With a pencil between my teeth, a pen in my hand, invoices for paper towels and toilet paper, dreaming of a guy with an ant farm to come save me.

  Maybe Dale would show up with some radioactive ant that was the size of a horse. He could be riding it, smiling bigger than me, ready to whisk me away to… ant land?

  I fell back on my bed and groaned.

  I stared at the ceiling.

  Peggy and Marissa were right.

  I needed to get laid.

  3

  (Asher)

  NOW

  She hooked her panties over her long pointer finger with a nail painted bright red. She stared at me with stoned eyes, glitter on her cheeks, and a smile knowing why I was there and what I was looking for. Private dances were never what they were meant to be for me. The thumping of the cliché rock music pounded through the speakers as she walked to the edge of the stage. Hands shot up in the air with dollar bills like people at a concert trying to get the lead singer to recognize them.

  Starlyn was wild.

  She loved to be called Shooting Star.

  She came from Nebraska to be an actress and fell on hard times, so she had to offer her body for money to survive. The ultimate naughty fantasy for a bunch of guys trying to chase away their demons with whiskey and tits.

  The truth was that Starlyn grew up two hours north and was smart but never wanted to go to college.

  The fact that I knew even that about her proved I was too far involved.

  She pointed at me and curled her finger.

  Everyone looked back at me as though I had been picked as a contestant on a gameshow.

  I waved my hands and pushed from the back wall, leaving Starlyn hanging.

  “I’ll marry you!” someone called to Starlyn.

  She turned and bent over, touching her toes.

  “What the fuck was that?” Jared asked as he put an arm around me.

  He handed me a shot glass and I threw back the bitter drink.

  “I’m not her fucking boyfriend,” I said. “She’s working an angle I don’t like.”

  “I bet she has all kinds of angles, huh?”

  I looked at Jared. “I’m pretty sure she could lick herself. If you get what I’m saying.”

  “Fuck. She would bleed me dry.”

  “Yeah, she would.”

&nb
sp; “How do you resist, bro?”

  “Simple,” I said. I pointed to the other side of the stage. “Something else to play with tonight.”

  Ember was new.

  She had a perfect chest, pierced, tattoos on her wrists, and red streaks in her hair.

  She tasted like cucumber ginger lotion and was nothing but a ball of regret.

  It wasn’t my idea to hit the strip club. I was perfectly fine scoping the bars and finding someone to take home. Tristian brought up the idea and I just went with it. He just got done on a big project at the shop and sold it for asking price. So, he was buying.

  And by buying, he was front row, sliding bills off his hand as though he were rich and famous.

  He’d wake up tomorrow and hate himself.

  Worse yet, he’d wake up alone because he didn’t have the balls to go after the strippers the way I did.

  As I made my way around the stage, some asshole bumped into me.

  He turned and yelled, WHAT?! as loud as he could.

  Some fucking punk with a fitted hat on backwards, holding a bottle of light beer like some douchebag college kid. He was probably hard as a rock with a wet spot in the front of his boxers because he didn’t know how to control himself around naked women.

  I wasn’t the guy you messed with. Ever.

  “Shit,” Jared said.

  I threw my head forward and lowered it, smashing it against the guy’s jaw.

  He left his feet and was down on the floor a second later, out cold.

  “Fuck, bro, you probably broke his jaw,” Jared said. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Won’t be running his mouth now, will he?”

  Jared pulled at my shirt as a bouncer started to look around.

  We moved around to the side of the stage where Ember cupped her hands under her perfect tits, making all the guys beg for more as they offered up money.

  It was an amazing thing to see.

  And good for Ember, Starlyn and the rest. They had something to give. Something people would pay for.