Catching Ember (Buckle Up Series Book 1) Read online

  Catching Ember

  Beverly Preston

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Also by Beverly Preston

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2021 Beverly Preston

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, media, places, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover Designed: Caylee Rae Photography

  Cover Photo: Wander Aguiar Photography

  Cover Model: Forest

  Editing: Virginia Tesi Carey

  Proofing: Courtney DeLollis

  Dedication

  Don, Stephen, Cody, & Caylee, thank you for always being my guiding light.

  Jordyn, I feel you watching over me and I see you in the stars.

  I love you. xoxo

  * * *

  A very heartfelt dedication to Jordyn’s Army.

  To our family, friends, and book community, thank you for your love, support, and prayers over the last six years.

  The love and strength shown for my daughter, Jordyn, and my entire family, will never be forgotten.

  Chapter 1

  Nash

  Sweltering heat radiated off the Texas pavement. It wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning and the mercury inched past ninety degrees. Nash darted across the busy street ducking into a coffee shop at the edge of town. Cool air conditioning came as relief to the stifling heat.

  “Mornin’ Mr. Harris,” the girl working the register greeted with a flirtatious smile, eyeing him from head to toe.

  “Mornin’ Laci.”

  Tossing her long, strawberry mane to the side, she reached for a large paper cup, scribbling his routine order in black Sharpie. “You look so hot today, Mr. Harris. It’s going to be a scorcher.”

  Ignoring the intended innuendo, he stated concisely, “I thought the soles of my boots might melt jogging across the street.”

  Her tongue slipped over her bottom lip before tugging it between her teeth. “You should ditch that suit jacket, undo your tie, cool yourself down a bit.” Hopefulness twinkled in her eyes.

  “Laci, honey, how many times do I have to tell you to holster that sweet charm of yours? There’s nothing here for you but trouble. You’re still in high school for Christ’s sake.”

  “I’m eighteen now and I just graduated. I’m legal,” she added with a persistent grin.

  “Legal or not, it’s morally wrong. You’re daddy’s only a few years older than me.”

  It was a stretch, but the girl’s father went to school with Nash’s older brother Sam. Fort Worth was still considered a small town for those who’d lived there all their lives. The last thing he needed was a gun-toting father hunting him down like a wild boar or the distraction of a woman—especially a sugar baby.

  “You need to find yourself…”

  The vibration of his phone cut his friendly lecture short. Nash tossed her a polite nod and pulled the phone from his pocket, moving toward the pickup counter.

  Dropping all pleasantries, his tone tripped from cordial to stern in a matter of seconds. “You got any news for me, Randy?”

  “Yeah, I got news for you. If you’re paying me to keep tabs on the little gold digger, why the hell are you following her?”

  “I’m not,” he insisted.

  “Maybe you should stop flirting and pay attention to your surroundings.”

  “Flirting? Where the hell are you?” Nash questioned, scanning the room filled with coffee lovers and Wi-Fi users.

  “I’m right across the street in the white truck with dark tint.”

  “She’s here?” His gaze rested on a twenty something year old woman with dark hair, dressed to the nines with an exorbitant amount of bling sitting alone at a table. “Gotcha. I see her.”

  “That’s not her. Look to your right. Walker’s daughter is outside on the patio. She keeps lookin’ around like she’s waitin’ for someone.”

  Another employee called out his name, delivering a steaming hot cup of coffee to the end of the counter. Nash reached for the cup, nonchalantly peering beyond the wall of glass, taking in the profile of the young woman standing beside a small circular table.

  Grabbing a straw, he added two sugars, stirring mechanically as he observed her delicate fingers pinching the cotton fabric of her summer dress, pulling it away from her skin. Unable to see her face, his gaze inched up her long, tone legs, past her tiny waist, to the mass of chestnut hair piled on top of her head.

  Aroused by curiosity, he moved closer to the glass door to get a better look. His head tilted a bit when she hinged at the waist, the hem of her dress brushing along the back of her thighs as she retrieved something from her bag.

  Loose pieces of wavy dark hair sticking to the sun-kissed skin on her neck wafted in the humid breeze. The rich mahogany accentuated the colorful ink covering her arm from shoulder to wrist.

  “Christ-all-mighty. That’s Walker’s daughter?” Nash murmured into the phone, more as a statement of shock than a question, inspecting the collage of intricate tattoos. “The old man’s probably rolling over in his grave right now.”

  When Nash gave Randy the name and age of Ben Walker’s daughter ten days earlier in a desperate attempt to find out everything he could about the girl who stood between him and millions of barrels of crude oil, this was not what he expected to find.

  Ember Thompson was absolutely beautiful.

  Stunning.

  Mouthwatering.

  A low rumble of laughter cut through the phone. “Yeah, she’s a looker, all right. Great ass, legs for days, and a sweet rack too. My job as a P.I. gets more and more difficult every day.”

  “I was referring to all the ink on her arm. Old man Walker would’ve hated it,” Nash said flatly, raising the cup to his mouth. “You sure that’s his girl?”

  Stopping mid-sip, Nash’s eyes widened with interest watching her lift a Frappuccino to her mouth and slip the tip of her tongue beneath the clear domed lid, hunting for a taste of whipped cream.

  “I’m positive, that’s her. Who would’ve ever thought Walker’s daughter would—”

  The drumming of his erratic heartbeat drowned out Randy’s voice.

  “Yeah, I gotta run, Randy. I’ll catch up with you later,” he rambled, ending the call abruptly with the swipe of his finger.

  His eyes narrowed, watching intently as she removed her sunglasses, wiping the perspiration from the bridge of her nose. Raising the mirrored glasses toward the sun, their eyes collided.

  Nash knew he should turn away, but stood there, paralyzed by a pair of gorgeous eyes stained the color of his favori
te whiskey, staring straight back at him.

  A ping of awareness spread over his skin, rolled through his gut, and tugged at his groin.

  A pull so insistent, he couldn’t turn away.

  Her honey-colored eyes lingered from head to toe, regarding him with lazy inspection before resting on his face. An easy smile smoothed over her soft, full lips.

  He tipped his head, offering a polite nod.

  Trouble.

  She’s nothing but trouble.

  Trouble you want nothing to do with, Nash.

  Chapter 2

  Ember

  Sunshine beat down on Ember’s shoulders sitting outside a coffee house at the edge of Fort Worth. Rising to her feet, Ember inched further under the table umbrella, shielding herself from the harsh rays while waiting for her friend to arrive.

  Reaching into her bag, she hunted for the accordion fan her mother slipped into her purse before leaving Austin, hoping to bring relief to the sticky heat gathering beneath the gauzy material of her hobo-chic dress.

  Though born and raised in Austin, Ember had been living on the beach in Malibu the past several years. She shared a deep love for both cities but glancing down at the weather app on her phone reading 69 degrees in Malibu, she sure missed California.

  Delving her tongue beneath the lid of her Frappuccino, she hunted for a splurge of creamy sweetness before drawing in a mouthful of ice-cold nutty flavor. Her eyes drifted shut releasing a sigh of contentment into the humid air. “Mmmm, perfection.”

  She removed her sunglasses and wiped a thin layer of perspiration from the bridge of her nose. Lifting the mirrored lenses to the sun to check for smudges, her gaze collided with a man inside the coffee shop.

  He stared straight at her sporting a slight frown and dazzling blue eyes. Even through the thick panes of glass, the intensity of blue was nothing short of electrifying.

  At first glance, the man appeared to be in his thirties. Her attention drifted lower, taking in his tall, rugged, suit-clad form. The scruff covering his square jaw and loose stance didn’t match the designer label. Broad shoulders and a powerful build hidden beneath the fine fabrics indicated something a little rougher around the edges.

  Daring to take another peek, her focus shifted back to his devilishly handsome face. Ember knew it was impolite to gawk, but she found his vivid blue eyes hypnotizing.

  Fearless.

  Intoxicating.

  His gaze locked on hers. The carved features of his tan face contorted in concentration, almost critically, notching a deep groove between his brows.

  Startled by the direct force of energy passing between the glass, a subtle knock of nerves bounced in her throat. Searing heat seeped into her senses, delivering an extra stroke of color to her already pink cheeks.

  The fine hair on her arms rose to sharp points, witnessing a small twitch at the corner of his wide mouth revealing what she thought might be a hint of a smile. Intuition warned, it was a smile that might not shine very often.

  He managed a brief cordial nod.

  Ember dipped her chin in return, quickly averting her gaze, turning her attention to the buzz of her cell phone alerting her of a text from her friend, JC.

  We’re running about fifteen minutes late. Chloe decided to take finger painting to a whole new extreme. See you in a few.

  She sensed the penetration of his glare all the way to her bones, but when she lifted her head, he was gone.

  Ember dropped down into a chair, fanning her heated face. Nerves rattled at max capacity and she needed to channel her inner Zen.

  Today would be one of the most difficult days of her life. If she were comparing, the last ten days had quickly obliterated any bad day she’d experienced in all her twenty-six years.

  Two weeks earlier, Ember got a call from her mom stating that her biological father—the father she didn’t know existed—had died, and she needed to come home to Austin. Sure, Ember knew there was a biological father somewhere out there in the world. It’s not like the stork dropped her on the doorstep. However, she never expected to find him or be summonsed to his home, a ranch outside of Fort Worth, to go over the details of his last will and testament.

  Her mother, June Thompson, considered herself to be a free spirit. Not a modern-day hippie who wore trendy urban outfits, ate organic, and tried to go vegetarian occasionally, June was the real deal. Self-described as more of a throwback from the seventies era, she believed in love and peace and individuality. Blessed with a big heart and wildly exotic beauty, June opted to live a very modest, carefree lifestyle. And in Ember’s case—a little too carefree.

  Ember had been the result of a one-night stand.

  If she intended to survive the next four months in the middle of nowhere on a cattle ranch, she needed to rethink her state of mind, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t relax.

  I need to meditate.

  The secluded patio and extreme heat created the perfect location, but the sound of traffic from the busy street, far too distracting. Ember rummaged through her bag, retrieving a pair of earbuds and a small glass vile filled with essential oils. She added a few drops of the calming mixture to her palms and cupped her nose, breathing in the lavender, eucalyptus, and rosemary.

  She thumbed through her playlist for the perfect meditation music, plugged in her earbuds and closed her eyes, allowing the sounds of a gentle rainstorm to quiet her mind.

  As the weight of anxiety began to lift from her tense shoulders, without warning, Ember was yanked abruptly from her chair and tackled to the ground, toppled by two hundred pounds of male. The hard blow knocked the air from her lungs, robbing her of her breath. Her cell phone slid across the table, ripping the earbuds from her ears.

  A sense of panic rushed through her veins, breaking over her skin in a fiery fever. No matter how big of a breath she took, Ember couldn’t fill her lungs.

  A fine edge of terror and pain sharpened her perception. Eyes wide with fear, she swung her arms wildly, struggling to break free from the manacle of arms tightly wound around her body.

  Finding her voice, she released a primal scream. “Let go! Get the fuck off me!”

  Humid air exploded with the deafening sound of crushing metal.

  The ground shook like thunder.

  In a blur, she witnessed a look of terror in the stranger’s eyes as a table came crashing down on them. His muscles strained and flexed against her body as a loud, painful groan echoed in her ears. His arms constricted, locking tighter, the imprint of his fingers digging into her sides.

  Any remaining vacant space between them vanished.

  He thrashed from side to side, Ember locked in his grip, rolling on the ground as if they were on fire. Hot concrete tore her flesh, scraping the back of her shoulders and elbows.

  The foreign stench of wet dog, egg salad, and manure infiltrated her nostrils.

  Snorting.

  Grunting.

  Trampling.

  Twisting her head to the side, Ember came face to face with a bull. An exceptionally large bull. Two long, curved horns protruded from both sides of the animal’s enormous head. Its massive forehead tapered down between a pair of deep set, black eyes, wild with fury.

  The shrilling sound of her own terrified screams resonated in her ears. Powerful hooves stamped the ground near her body, pummeling and destroying the table she’d just been sitting at.

  “Hold on,” a deep voice commanded.

  Her mind disengaged, every thought fixed on survival. Acting on pure adrenaline, she clawed at the stranger’s shirt front, frantically clasping onto his tie. She wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs, holding on for dear life.

  In one momentous move, he heaved them forward to the corner of the patio, shielding her from the crazed animal with the protection of his body.

  The massive two-thousand-pound beast hooked its horns beneath a chair, and then another, tossing them high into the air like a weightless rag doll. The bull stormed the fence surrounding the
patio, crumpling the black wrought iron like toothpicks, before charging toward the parking lot.

  Bodies smashed together, Ember burrowed her face into the hard planes of the man’s chest. The pounding of his heart hammered violently against her cheek.

  “You’re choking me,” he croaked, untangling her fingers from his tie.

  “S—sorry,” she stammered, slowly unhinging her fingers one at a time like cat claws from a curtain.

  Bodies tangled like lovers on the hot pavers, a slick of perspiration layered her skin, and the scent of his heated cologne filled her senses. He attempted to lift his weight off her, but she constricted her arms around his waist, halting his retreat. Every inch of her body quaked violently against his powerful framework.

  It took a few beats to gain enough courage to untie her legs from his hips, releasing him from her death grip. Knees still wedged between her spread thighs, he moved to his elbows, staring down at her with deep concern.

  “I’m—I’m okay,” she managed through a ragged breath, unsure if the declaration was meant for him or a statement of reassurance for herself.

  Feeling the pad of his thumb drift over a slick of wetness on her cheek, Ember realized she was crying. Terror, fused with shock and exhaustion from the previous week, spilled from the corner of her eyes.

  “Shh, now. It’s okay.” His deep voice remained calm and collected.

  The heat of his breath fanned over her face in hot quick pants. He swept his palm over her hair, calming her fits. Mortified, she remained quiet, fearing if she opened her mouth, she’d start bawling. Ember drew several shaky breaths in through her nose and out her mouth, slowing her breathing until the adrenaline coursing through her body began to subdue.