Loving rush a new adult.., p.1
Loving Rush: A New Adult Stand Alone Love At First Sight Romance, page 1
LOVING RUSH
A New Adult Love At First Sight Romance
A Novel
LAYLA JONES
Booklover Legion
Copyright © 2022 by Layla Jones
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by: Debbie Davis and the Booklover Legion editing crew.
Cover by: Angela Haddon
For Michael.
Thank you for your kindness when I was crushing all over you as a pre-teen. And thanks for showing me how exciting motorcycles can be.
Contents
Introduction
1. Haven't Lived
2. Become the Right One
3. Men and Chocolate
4. Vending Machine
5. Big and Burly
6. Be Amazed
7. Number Exchange
8. She Knows How to Blush
9. A Fighter
10. Set Up A Date
11. Motorcycle Monster
12. Flower Shop and a Playlist
13. Kiss Her
14. Dirty Kisses
15. Caught in the Rain
16. Scorched My Skin
17. Wham, Bam, Thank You, Ma'am
18. Bagels and Strawberries
19. Spontaneous Combustion
20. Incentives
21. A Discrepancy
22. There Isn’t a Choice
23. Buried Deep
24. New Light
25. Road Trip
26. Acting Weird
27. Talented
28. Margarita Salt
29. A New Friend
30. Beach House
31. Burning Up
32. Clint Gets His
33. Breakable Toy
Epilogue: Three Years Later
About the Author
Also by Layla Jones
Introduction
What would you do for love? Lux will do almost anything, including lie to the handsome stranger she meets at a hospital vending machine.
After another round of bad news regarding her health, she is figuratively and literally sick of doctor's appointments, bland food, and no social life. So, it feels like fate when she runs into Rush.
Rush is kind and so f*cking hot. With him, the connection is instantaneous, and she wants to experience all he's offering. That includes eating all the food, going to the ocean on the back of Rush's motorcycle, dating, kissing, and maybe even falling in love.
Because she doesn't know how much longer she has but what she does know is she wants to spend every second with him.
When Rush finds out the truth, will he forgive her secrets, or will it even matter in the end?
__________
This is a full-length, stand-alone love at first sight steamy romance.
ONE
Haven't Lived
LUX
To dream of dying was the worst and greatest way to wake. Because hello, I was alive. But also, because, hello, the way I died was a direct reflection of the way I lived.
The funeral was nice, I thought and rolled over. Outside my second-floor window stood an enormous red maple. Excitable Blue Jays were busy building a nest of twigs, bits of dried grass, fluff, and whatever else they could find. They reminded me of lovers working as a team to create a place for their little ones.
Wistfully, I wondered if I'd ever get to experience such a thing. A husband. Children. A place of my own. I'd read plenty of historical romances where they found each other in the end and lived happily ever after. Each time a book ended; my heart would race with longing for a chance at having what fictional characters had—a chance at love.
One of the birds landed on my windowsill and pecked the glass as though to scold me for still being in bed. Like he knew today was a big day. But it was one I'd rather forget.
"Mallory Luxor Briggs!"
It was always serious when Mom used my full name.
A glance at the time revealed I wasn't even that late. "No," I groaned and tugged the comforter over my head. The scent of fresh fabric softener filled my lungs. The bedding had been cleaned last night as they were every night. Mom was a stickler for sanitation.
I breathed deeply, wishing with my every heartfelt desire that I could skip my appointment. Just blow off the meeting with the doctor and do something fun—something that wasn't about life and death, specifically mine.
"Lux!"
"I'm awake," I mumbled, coiling myself tighter in the soft down and trying to smother my ears.
The worst day of the year had slowly crept its way around the calendar and arrived again. It seemed to sneak up on me quicker and quicker the older I got. And after the dream I'd had, like a fucking premonition, I knew the news wouldn't be great.
I'm fine, I thought.
"You're going to be late!"
"Will not," I replied, keeping my voice light even though several curse words entered my mind. But it was true. Ten years into my diagnosis, and I had the timing, including the traffic, the synchronization of the stoplights, and everything in-between down to the very last detail.
There was always a tail back on Fourth, but if I cut down Polly Drive and across Grandview Ave, I could make it no matter how much I left it to chance.
The Pediatric and Cancer Hospital. That was my destination.
Okay, so I wasn't in the children's ward anymore, but that didn't matter. It was still the same building, just a different wing. Year in and year out—needles and scans. Appointments and discussions. Blood work and prescriptions.
"If I bring you coffee, will it help you haul ass?" The door edged open an inch, followed by the faint aroma of roasted beans, always slightly scalded by mom's brewing approach.
I sighed into the cotton. Maybe this time, I wouldn't take the cut through. Maybe I would just be late, plain, and simple.
"Probably not," I mumbled, sounding like a child instead of my twenty-two years.
A firm grip pulled on my exposed big toe.
"You know you have to go," Mom said.
Did I think so? Did I?
Battling my way out of the blankets, I scowled at my already dressed and perfectly put-together mother. "So says you. But you're not the one to get jabbed and examined, scrutinized like a lab rat." Just thinking about all I could expect caused me to swallow down another groan.
"It'll be fine," she said, walking over to my window and yanking it open.
Easy for her to say. She wasn't the patient. But I kept that to myself. Late spring in Tallahassee was a beautiful time of the year, thanks to all the colorful and scented blossoms.
"If you let me come with you, I could keep you company," Mom whined. She turned and faced me, a wisp of sadness on her aging face.
We had this conversation last night. I wanted to go alone. She'd agreed to let me before going to bed. In the light of day, it seemed, she wanted me to change my mind.
I sucked on the inside of my cheek as I studied her. Blond hair, which had once been the same cornflower yellow as mine, was now thick with streaks of shiny silver. It had thinned over the years, too, though her eyes, a bright hazel, still shown full of vitality.
I got my caramel-colored eyes from my dad, as well as his attitude, according to mom.
"You just want to strong-arm Dr. Jennings into giving you all my stats so you can update your spreadsheet. We talked about this."
Even she treated me like a lab rat in her own loving way.
Mom frowned. "Those stats help me know what foods, medications, and liquids you need. What time do you need them and how much." Shock and dismay settled on her features. "How can you not understand that I'm just trying to help."
And there it was. I loved her for her willingness to do all she could. "I'm an adult, Mom. I can figure that out for myself," I said, even though I wondered if that were true. Sure, I was an adult, but sometimes I didn't feel like one.
Ten years in remission from an aggressive childhood leukemia could wreak havoc on a girl's mindset, life goals, and choices. I wasn't like other women my age. I'd never been on a date or held hands with a guy I liked. Hell, I hadn't ever been kissed. Virginal in every way—except in my mind. Oooh, the things I thought of thanks to my spicy books. All sorts of naughty thoughts and secret desires kept me hot for the real thing. Part of me believed I might be ruined for an actual man, but a girl could hope.
"You know I want to do this on my own," I added, gritting my teeth. I craved more adult responsibility, but mom struggled to let go.
Technically, I worked, but it was for my mom. I did her books, organized her incoming and outgoing monies, billed clients, and paid her employees. But mom didn't pay me, so it wasn't official. Thanks be to the gods above that she'd allowed me to get a license. Otherwise, I'd probably be insane by now.
"I know, Luxheart." Mom perched on the end of the bed, sweeping my bed hair out of my eyes. "It's just, I like to look after you."
I bit my lip, not wanting to hurt her feelings but struggling with the tight chest and racing pulse my desire for freedom created inside me.
"I'll get you a copy of the report, I promise," I offered as a halfway compromise between mom running the show and aggressively
"Will you, though?" She eyed me warily.
Ugh, the guilt. She knew how to lay it on thick. "I said I would."
Her lips were set, and the lines of worry on her face seemed more profound in the morning light. She wasn't leaving until I changed my mind and let her come.
"How about you come with me to make sure I get there safely?" I asked, hoping that would get her out of my room. I still had to get ready.
Her face lit instantly.
"But," I hurried on. "I go into the doctor's office alone. I've got to do things by myself, Mom."
She grabbed my hand, squeezing tight, droplets of unshed water glittering along the lashes around her eyes. "I know you do, honey." She paused. "Just know it will always be my job to make sure you're safe and okay." She lifted one eyebrow as though she waited for me to deny her words.
I couldn't. She has me there, and I wouldn't argue the point. Our parent and child dynamic had started eleven years ago. Dad decided to leave us on a permanent basis. That was bad enough. Two months later, I was diagnosed with leukemia.
The day we found out the truth about my bruises and tiredness, the day the big C arrived in our home, that was when the balance between us tilted on a permanent basis. Mom and me never stood a chance. She would always want to protect me, and that fact would always steal the air from my lungs and make my stomach tighten and clench with swallowed adult pride.
"You can look after me on the way there and the way back, but the doctor's office is mine." I met her glittering eyes. "Deal?" Take it or leave it, lady.
She had to see that would be my best offer. "I guess," she said, sealing our contract with a motherly kiss on my cheek. "Now hurry up. We don't want to get stuck on Fourth. That street is always a bear to get down," she said, knowing she'd won the Battle of Hospital Day.
I grinned, working to keep my face relaxed as she rose and swept out of the room. When she was gone, I pulled the blankets over my head and bit the inside of my cheek.
"Oh, and Luxheart, don't forget to dress in something warm. It's a little chilly today."
Fucking let me live, I seethed.
"Okay," I mumbled aloud.
But that was the proverbial straw that altered my decision. Mom didn't know it yet, but she would not be going to the hospital with me after all.
TWO
Become the Right One
RUSH
I breathed in deeply, enjoying the cloy of grease and dirt in the air. Outside, a summer storm had kicked up and it was raining. The inside of the shop was warm and well lit, giving me a better view of what I was working on. Sweat beaded along my brow and I grunted. Sure all my family thought I was crazy as shit for enjoying the grime-ridden side of my job, but I relished in it. Pushing hard with all my force I tightened the nut, happy with the flush finish on the metal below.
Flipping my visor I reached for the blow torch ready to seal the welding. This baby would be ready for painting tomorrow and back to its owner the day after. I was fucking good at my job.
Motorcycles. They were my thing, my passion, and the reason for getting up in the morning. Whichever way you looked at it, bikes, speed, and grease were my happy place.
Rush was my name and in my nature. Well at least it was a truly apt nickname. I liked life hard and fast with nothing to hold me back, no ties or lead weights to slow me down. Or at least I had.
“You’ve turned this one around quick, even for you.”
Torching the nut I focused on the job in hand before switching off the flame and then flipping my visor and facing my business partner. Clint loomed over me, a cup of afternoon coffee in his hand.
“I don’t know how you drink that stuff in the afternoon,” I said, eyeing him.
“Yeah, and I don’t know how you are crouched under bikes all the time instead of riding them.” He motioned his free hand like he was on his bike.
I chuckled lightly. "I guess you're right."
We grinned at one another. Clint had been the best decision I’d made for my business. My grandmother's inheritance had set me up well. Well enough to buy a workshop and start fixing and selling, but six months in and it became clear I had an issue with some elements of business management. Mainly anything to do with paperwork and invoicing.
Luck would have it that at a weekend party up in the mountains a few weeks after I noticed the flaw in my plan, I met Clint. Not only did he like to ride, but he was also cool and easily became a loyal friend. The best part of all? He was shit hot with numbers.
He jumped at the chance to go in on my business and our partnership had been gold ever since.
"But I value my life and there's no way I'd ride out in that fucking downpour." I indicated the rain beyond the double glass doors. “I choose life," I added, and wondered where I'd heard the saying before.
“Nothing better than warm summer rain, Rush,” he replied, sipping on his coffee, and then tossing the cup in the nearby trash.
I stretched up from my crouched position, my muscles flexing and pinching out of the uncomfortable pose. “I tell you what is better, keeping all my limbs and oh… wait a minute… I like the way my face looks as is." My back cracked as I straightened my spine.
“Call yourself a daredevil, Jensen?” He laughed, but I saw the challenge in his eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve ever said that." I grinned and dabbed at the sweat on the back of my neck. “Rush, not dead, remember that.” No one had called me Jensen in years. In fact I could barely remember a time when I felt like a Jensen in my own skin. These days I was Rush, or Norton, at a push.
Clint chuckled and peered out at the downpour.
I couldn’t believe he’d go out in it, but that was Clint. For all his intense paperwork skills, he also had a crazy-ass side too. "Did you need something or just feel like shooting the shit before taking off?"
"Always working," Cint said but his face became thoughtful. “Fine, I’ve set out the invoices for this afternoon’s collections on the desk. I think even you can manage to read the names at the top. You remember how to use the card machine, right?” His mouth twitched and he pulled his bike keys from his jeans, jingling them.
The man was my height at six feet, but he wasn't as muscled. He wore his carrot-colored hair short. His skin was pale and freckled and didn't like the sun but that didn't stop him from wearing tank tops and jeans. He'd probably freeze riding out in the rain, but I wasn't going to tell him that. He was a grown ass man, and I wasn't his parental. We were the same age.
So, I shrugged. “Ha. Ha. It’s like I'm working with a wannabe comedian.” I dropped my smile. “Seriously though, don’t go out in that. It'll let up soon enough." Okay, I couldn't help myself.
"Aw, thanks for the concern, man, but I'll be fine."
Just to prove he was wrong, a huge bolt of lightning lit up the sky followed by a boom of thunder. I didn't like it. As a friend and as a man who relied on his business partner. "What can be so fucking important?”
