Just This Once

Book 0: Kings

by Lena Hendrix

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Firefighters Romance

Synopsis

In a rugged small town on the coast of Michigan where heartbreak lingers but love always finds a way, sparks fly between a fireman and the daughter of the fire chief after an unforgettable one night stand. Fans of Lucy Score’s Knockmeout Series, Elsie Silver, Carley Fortune, and B.K. Borrison will swoon over book 1 in Lena Hendrix’s bestselling Kings Series!

Cocky, pierced firefighters are perfect for late-night rom-coms, but in real life they’re nothing but trouble. Especially when you find out they work for your dad—after you’ve already slept with them.

Moving to my parents’ small town was supposed to be the fresh start I was looking for. When a disastrous Valentine’s Day leads to an unexpected encounter with a sexy stranger, it ended with the hottest night of my life.

I didn’t think I would ever see Whip again.

Imagine my surprise when one of my sixth-grade students has a medical emergency and it’s Whip who shows up, looking hot as hell, to save the day. I should be embarrassed at how we left things, but instead I’m furious he doesn’t seem to remember me.

So I scrape my pride off the floor, lift my chin, and pretend there’s nothing between us. But that can last only so long. Stolen glances melt into forbidden touches, and once we give in to temptation, we can’t keep our hands off each other.

Nothing has ever felt so right, but my guarded heart won’t let me believe in happily ever after with a man like him. Opening up to Whip may be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and every time we agree to one last time, we both know it’s a lie.

How many times can we keep telling ourselves just this once before we realize that, when it comes to love, once is never enough?

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 416

Sample

Why am I settling for a medium-ugly man who won’t stop staring at my tits?

I questioned all my life’s choices. Safe and predictable held less appeal as I watched my date dribble spaghetti sauce on his chin. I blame my mother. She had insisted that a blind date on Valentine’s Day was exactly what I needed to move on with my life after everything that happened last fall.

More like a spiraling descent into absolute nothingness.

Insert Dickie Johnson.

Dickie’s mother worked with mine as an administrative assistant at the local police station, and both had hatched the plan to pair us up.

Dickie. Freaking. Johnson.

After my parents had moved to the coastal Western Michigan town of Outtatowner, I learned quickly that almost everyone who lived there had some kind of quirky nickname. Unable to hide my horrified expression, Mom had assured me that nicknames seemed to be reserved for those who’d grown up in Outtatowner and not for a substitute teacher who had barely made it through week one of her new residency.

My parents claimed the nicknames were one of the many things to love about their charming small town. Dickie could have been Richard or Rick or, hell, even Bob, but around town, he was known solely as Dickie. The people here wore their nicknames like a badge of honor.

After being twenty-five minutes late, he’d copped a feel not once, but twice, on the short walk from the restaurant entrance to our secluded table. If that wasn’t a bad enough start to our date, Dickie droned on and on about his real estate licensure without asking a single question about me. Honestly, that was fine, because the less he knew about me, the better. All I needed to figure out was how to make a graceful exit without having to hear about cutting the date short from my mother.

“I closed the sale on this very storefront.” Dickie waved a hand in the air. “So, if you’re thinking about dessert”—he winked at me—“I get a discount that I can stack with my coupon.”

I nodded and hummed a response, but his words didn’t register, since I couldn’t stop staring at the orange splatters of sauce clinging to the square patch of hair beneath his lower lip.

“Are you even listening to me? I was highlighting my financial prowess, but I see you’re distracted.” Dickie laughed and sucked in his lower lip, his tongue darting across the hairs. “It’s a flavor saver.”

My eyes lifted to his. He waggled his eyebrows at me, and my stomach curled in on itself.

I blinked and shook my head. Surely I hadn’t heard that right. “I’m sorry . . . a what?”

His forefinger and thumb smoothed down the coarse hairs beneath his lip. “You’ve never seen a soul patch?” His eyes flicked down my front and back up, his words sinking in.

A flavor saver.

“Okay.” I forced a tight smile, then gently removed my napkin from my lap and placed it beside my plate. “I think it’s time to go.” I scooted backward, the scraping of stiff chair legs against the wooden floor filling the restaurant as I stood.

Dickie rose, reaching into his sports coat to remove his wallet. “Yeah, okay.” His chuckle bounced off my back. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

My eyebrows cinched down, and I shook my head as I gathered my purse and stuffed my arms into my coat. “Um . . . no. Let’s not. Thank you for tonight. It’s been . . . interesting. Good night, Dickie.”

Without waiting for him, I headed toward the door as fast as my slingback kitten heels could carry me.

“Hey. Wait up!” Dickie called behind me, but I was determined to escape the restaurant as quickly as possible. The February wind sliced through me as the attendant pulled open the ornate door with a flourish. My plan to run away from my problems was already starting to bite me in the ass when I realized it included actual running in the harsh Michigan winter. I lowered my head, wrapping my arms around my middle to ward off the chill.

“Wait, please. I have one more thing I need to ask you.”

My patience was thin, but the absolutely pathetic look in his eyes wore me down. “What is it?” I bristled against the cold.

He sucked in a breath and held up his palms. “Let me ask you this—are you tired of the nine-to-five grind? Are you looking for a way to gain financial independence and live a life of freedom?”

“What? Are you serious right now?”

Dickie rocked on his heels expectantly, completely oblivious to the fact I was actively freezing to death in my dress.

I held out my palms. “Um, I think I’m good.”

He leaned in. “Plain good is not good enough, Emily. You deserve the best! And that’s why I want to introduce you to an amazing health supplement line. These products are game changers. They’ll improve your energy, your immune system, your mental clarity . . . basically every aspect of your life!”

Cue internal groaning . . .

I shook my head. “Oh, wow . . . that sure is . . . something.” I nodded. “So . . . I’m leaving.”

Dickie followed me step for step as I hurried down the sidewalk. “Oh, Emily, you don’t get it. This isn’t about money—it’s about investing in your health! Think about it. What’s more important than your well-being?”

I shivered and cut across the roadway where I knew he’d parked his car. “Well . . . my bank account, for one thing.”

When a car honked at us, he simply waved a hand. “Ha! You’re too funny. But seriously, our products are an absolute bargain for the value they provide. And the best part is, if you join my team, you can earn commission by selling these products to your friends and family!”

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my eyes from rolling to the back of my head and getting permanently stuck. I hummed through gritted teeth. “Sounds like a dream. Your car is that way.”

I gestured down the roadway, and his smile melted from his face. “Oh. Well . . .”

I threw one hand up in a salute. “Night!”

I knew full well my car was parked two blocks in the same direction as his, but extending this date from hell was the last thing I needed, so I scurried away in the opposite direction.

Dickie called to my back: “You didn’t even hear the best part! Your first ten customers get a free starter kit!”

I ignored him, and my heels pounded on the sidewalk like every building on Copper Street was on fire. I could feel his gaze behind me, but I didn’t dare look back. Seeking refuge, I darted around the corner onto Main Street and hid behind one of the large concrete flower planters that lined the main thoroughfare.

Still shivering, I waited a few minutes before peeking around the corner.

Thankfully, he was nowhere to be seen. I breathed a sigh of relief as my body sagged against the rough concrete planter. Soft yellow light spilled out of the large bay windows in front of me. King Tattoo glowed from the sign, and I paused. My gaze skated over the shiny black chairs and black-and-white-checkered tile.

I could do it. I could break free and get something dainty and unexpected tattooed, just because. Something just for me . . .

Indecision locked me in place as I shivered against the cold. My eyes adjusted to the light as I stared through the storefront window. Two men stood inside, one behind the counter and the other leaning over it.

Both were so impressively built that I couldn’t help but stare. The one leaning over the counter and pointing caught my attention. My eyes moved upward, from his boots to the musculature of his thick legs before pausing at the curve of his butt.

No man should have an ass that fantastic.

As if he could feel my eyes locked onto him, the man straightened and started to turn. I shook myself out of a stupor and hurried down the sidewalk. During my attempted escape from the date from hell, I realized the only other place open on Valentine’s Day evening was a general store.

I needed refuge. Warmth. Chocolate.

The bell clanked against the glass as I pulled open the door, and a whoosh of hot air coasted over my brittle skin. My heels danced on the linoleum as icy shivers racked my body.

The man working behind the register only nodded before turning back to his magazine. “Evening.”

I gave him an apologetic smile before digging my phone out of my purse. Of course my cell battery was nearly dead from mindlessly scrolling videos while I’d waited for Dickie to show up. My car was only a few blocks away, but I was chilled to the bone, and I couldn’t risk him waiting around for me. My finger hovered over my stepdad’s contact. He would rescue me in a heartbeat, and I could worry about picking my car up tomorrow.

I closed my eyes, fully aware of the man shooting concerned glances at me from behind the register.

You don’t need saving. You don’t need anyone.

I took a deep breath and remembered the grin on my stepdad’s face when he told me about his plans to cook for Mom and share their own romantic Valentine’s Day at home. After nearly twenty years together, my mother and stepfather were still very much in love, and I had always thought of my stepfather as “Dad.” It was something that gave my bitter twenty-five-year-old heart a tiny bit of hope. My mother had found her second chance at love as a single mother, so there was no good reason why there couldn’t be someone out there for me.

Right?

You have to let someone in if you want them to know the real you. To love the woman you try to hide.

My mother’s words rattled through my head. Letting someone in meant being exposed.

Vulnerable.

That’s a big no fucking way.

I’d done that once and was in absolutely no hurry to do it again. Besides, I had a successful and fulfilling career as a middle school teacher. In my previous district, I had joined every committee and was a force to be reckoned with in the teachers’ union. I was going to be principal one day. I had big plans. Dreams. None of which hinged on a man. Especially one with a flavor saver.

I needed only a minute to collect myself, defrost for a moment while I waited for Dickie to leave, and then I could head back toward the restaurant and find my car. As I stepped deeper into the store, the sticky-sweet smell of creamy milk chocolate hit me like a wall. Pink-and-red stuffed animals were strewn across the metal shelves, clinging to each other with hopeful eyes. As I passed a pair of monkeys, I flicked one in its plastic eyeball.

Down the aisle, I spotted the half-off Valentine’s Day candy and decided that drowning my sorrows in sugar was the only logical choice. My stomach rumbled as I stepped up to the barren shelves. Most of the good stuff had been picked over, leaving conversation hearts and a smattering of chocolate oranges. I scanned the shelves, crouching down to see if there was any hint of dark chocolate hiding somewhere. Frustrated, I shoved aside the boxes, sending a few tumbling to the floor.

My eyes caught on a small, hidden bag of individually wrapped chocolate squares.

Dark chocolate caramel with sea salt? Yahtzee!

I clutched the package to my chest before lifting on my tiptoes to peer over the metal rack. Thankfully the employee behind the register had lost all interest in me as he flipped through the pages of a magazine. I just needed a minute.

Sinking to my butt, I smoothed my skirt over my tights and kicked off my heels. I opened the package as discreetly as I could and slipped one decadent square out of the bag. After unwrapping it, I closed my eyes and let a bite of chocolate melt on my tongue. The bitterness and salt warred with the creamy caramel.

I moaned.

Looking at the morsel of salted dark chocolate, I sighed. “Looks like you’re going to be the only pleasure I’ll be getting tonight so . . . damn it, I’m going to enjoy you.”

I rolled my tongue around the salted caramel coating my mouth. “Oh my god, you’re good.”

Throat clearing jolted my attention away from devouring the chocolate. A steady rhythm of heavy boots walked up the aisle, and my eyes landed on a pair of scuffed-up work boots as they stopped at my side. My gaze followed the long trail, up well-worn denim, over trim hips, and across a broad, masculine chest before landing on the face of the man from the tattoo shop.

His eyes were piercing, so blue they looked almost gray. It was a stark contrast to the thick mop of hair that hung across his forehead. His features were strong, but not severe. The lift at the corner of his mouth confirmed he’d definitely overheard me nearly coming to orgasm from a piece of dime-store chocolate.

My heart caught in my throat as the handsome stranger looked at me with a devastating smirk. “Theft is a punishable offense, you know.”

The last thing I expected to see was a heart-stoppingly gorgeous woman on Valentine’s Day tearing apart the candy aisle like a feral raccoon digging through trash.

I recognized her as the stunner who’d stopped in front of my brother’s tattoo shop before scurrying away. After she dipped into the general store, I used the opportunity to make a little detour on my way home.

From the end of the aisle, I had watched her aggressively push candy aside until she clutched a bag of chocolates on the shelf with a triumphant smile across her face. When she sank down and tore into the package right there on the floor of the general store, I was more than intrigued. The moan as the chocolate slid across her tongue shot straight to my cock.

She definitely wasn’t a townie. I had lived in Outtatowner my whole life, and I would have recognized someone as achingly pretty as her.

I crossed my arms to keep from laughing as her wide eyes stared up at me at being caught. Her eye color pulled me in. Not quite blue, but not quite green either—more of a smoky hue. Very interesting.

“Um . . . ,” she mumbled around the chocolate before wiping at the corners of her mouth with a shy laugh.

I lifted a hand, and she moved to get up. “Oh, don’t mind me,” I said. “But I plan to pay for my discount chocolate.” I stepped closer, scanning the near-empty shelves before frowning down at her.

I harrumphed and crossed my arms.

“What?” she asked around a mouthful of chocolate.

My scowl deepened. “You stole the last one.”

The woman swallowed, the muscles working in her delicate neck as her throat bobbed. “Not stolen, impending purchase.”

“Ah.” I nodded, dismissing the sad variety of half-off candy. I reached for a plastic container full of red-, pink-, and white-striped candy corns and held it up. “What do you think Valentine Corn is?”

The woman glanced up, her shy smile simmering with humor. “I was too afraid to find out.”

I flipped the container back onto the shelf next to a box of conversation hearts and sighed. “Probably a safe bet,” I said.

She shook the bag in front of me. “Want one?”

My mouth hooked into a grin.

Fuck it.

I gestured to the space next to her. “You sure about that? You looked downright feral a minute ago. I don’t want to provoke an animal in the wild.”

She laughed and shimmied sideways, swiping away an errant chocolate orange and sending it careening across the linoleum, then patting the space beside her. “I don’t bite.”

I took up residence beside the stranger, giving her enough space to feel comfortable, before reaching into the bag she held out and pulling out a wrapped square of chocolate. “Thanks.”

She swallowed and nodded. “I really am paying for these. I promise.” Her shoulders slumped as she unwrapped another piece and shoved the entirety of it past her pretty pink lips and into her mouth.

“Rough day?” I popped the square of chocolate into my mouth and tamped down the rogue curiosity of whether or not this was what her kiss would taste like.

She blew out a breath. “You have no idea.”

I raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue.

She gestured at her flirty floral dress and tights-clad legs. “Blind date.” She scoffed. “It did not go well.”

I nodded. “Valentine’s Day blind date? Risky move.”

She laughed, and the sound was rich and warm. “Trust me, I have learned the error of my ways.”

I shrugged, settling my back against the metal shelves and enjoying the soft lilt of her voice. “Tell me about it.”

She cast a sidelong glance before tucking an errant strand of her dark-blonde hair behind her ear. It was wound into a tight bun on the top of her head, but my fingers itched to get the undone piece she missed. My hands stayed clamped on my lap.

“Um, so my mom set me up with a guy named Dickie Johnson⁠—”

“Dickie Johnson?” The words were out before I could stop them. There was no version of any universe where Dickie Johnson was worthy of a date with this woman. Her stunned face gave me pause, so I cleared my throat before correcting myself. “I mean, isn’t he kind of . . . old for you?”

She narrowed her eyes into little slits but didn’t answer. Dickie was thirty-one, same as me, and definitely too old for someone as young and vibrant as this woman. A woman whose name I still didn’t know. I wiped my palm against my pants before holding out my hand. “Whip.”

She eyed my palm warily before setting the bag of chocolate aside and brushing her hands down her skirt. Her palm was dwarfed by mine. “Emily.”

Sweet smile and bonus points for not being a townie.

My smile widened. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emily.”

A rosy blush stained her cheeks as her eyes moved over me. “So what brings you to this fine establishment?”

A grumbly laugh rumbled through me. I wasn’t about to admit that it was her that brought me to the general store. “I had the day off and wanted to stop in to grab a snack before heading home.”

Her eyes slowly raked over me beneath thick black lashes before darting away. “No hopelessly romantic Valentine’s Day plans, then?”

A smile hooked at my mouth. I liked how shy and reserved she seemed. Even the somewhat modest, buttoned-up dress was doing it for me.

I shrugged, leaning into the playfulness of how my night was unfolding. “I don’t know. I found a lonely librarian wolfing down half-priced chocolates. Night’s still young.”

Emily held out one finger as she lifted her chin. “Definitely not a librarian,” she corrected with a smile and curt nod.

“Damn.” I shook my head and frowned. “I really have a thing for librarians,” I teased.

A shotgun of laughter rang out as she playfully shoved my shoulder with hers. I warmed at the contact. A warning scratched at the inside of my skull—there was something different about this girl.

Special.

Instead of bolting from the feeling like I should have, I let my shoulder settle against hers, and when she didn’t ease away from the contact, I sank into the surprising comfort of our connection.

I shifted, holding out my hand for hers. “So . . . definitely-not-a-librarian Emily, would you settle for a Valentine’s date redo?”

I stared at his outstretched hand, his wide palm and long fingers waiting for me to make a decision.

Do I do it? Oh my god, this is so unlike me.

A squeal threatened to tear out of me when I placed my hand in his. Whip gave it a gentle squeeze before standing and hauling me up with him. I flashed a quick smile to hide my nerves. Hand in his, I followed Whip through the deserted general store and out into the cold night. I shivered, and he dropped my hand to slip his coat off his shoulders. Before I could protest, he wound the large jacket around me and pulled it closed.

“You’ll freeze,” I argued, appreciating the way his biceps strained the long sleeves of his Henley.

“Nah.” He shook his head. “I was built for the cold.”

Whip towered over me—all broad lines and hard edges—as we walked. He was most definitely built and had the kind of body that screamed promises of warmed skin and protective embraces.

I swallowed hard as Whip led me down the sidewalk toward the muted sounds of music and neon lights. I shook away my wandering thoughts when my feet stopped short. “Shit! I forgot to pay for the chocolates!”

Whip grinned. “My cousin owns the general store. I’ll be sure to square up with him before he starts printing the Wanted posters.”

I sagged in relief. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him as he smiled. “Thief.”

My laugh rang out into the crisp winter air with a puffy white cloud. Excitement danced under my skin as we walked.

My whole life I’d made the right choice. Been the good girl. It was exhausting, and for once I wanted to spread my wings—stop thinking twelve steps ahead in any scenario and live.

“I know a place just up this way.” Whip continued up the sidewalk, shifting his position to be on the side closest to the roadway, and I followed, reveling in the subtly protective gesture.

When we stopped, I glanced at the neon sign next to the heavy wooden door. A jaunty skeleton grinned back at me.

“The Grudge Holder?” I asked. The muscles in Whip’s arm rippled through his shirt as he leaned forward to pull the door open. I slipped past him as he held it for me. “Cute name.”

He slid in next to me, and the warmth of the bar wafted over us. “Yeah, it’s kind of an inside joke in this town.”

I had started toward an empty high-top table when Whip’s long fingers gently wrapped around my hip bone, stopping me. No man had ever touched me in such a benign way while exuding such raw masculinity. I willed my knees not to buckle.

His breath floated across the shell of my ear. “This way.” With his head he gestured toward the opposite end of the bar. “My family only sits on the east side.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Oh.”

Whip helped me into the stool at a high-top table and rapped a knuckle on the wood. “Can I get you something to drink? My brother owns a local brewery, and they sell it here. It’s pretty good.”

“A beer would be great. Thanks.”

Whip sauntered toward the large bar in the back, and I used the opportunity to stare incessantly at his ass. No man had any right to look that effortlessly put together in simple jeans and a long-sleeved Henley. Totally unfair.

I tore my gaze away from him before I got caught and took the opportunity to look around the bar. Music spilled from a jukebox in the corner, and posters announced various bands for the upcoming weekends. A pink-and-red banner was strung across the stage with loopy, romantic font. Love is in the air—try not to breathe. I laughed and soaked up the friendly, inviting atmosphere.

Curious, I looked across the dance floor toward the west side of the bar. A few wary glances were cast my way, and it seemed as though everyone really did keep to their own side. Curious.

Whip sidled up next to me and set down two beers, one light and one dark. “I wasn’t sure of your preference.” He pointed to the dark one. “Vanilla porter, one of my favorites.” His finger moved to the other. “Hefeweizen with malty, caramel notes. Lady’s choice.”

My eyes danced with delight. “You really do know your beers.”

He shrugged. “It’s really Abel’s deal, but I’ve learned a thing or two.”

I smiled as I slid the porter in front of me. “Thank you.”

Whip winked, and butterflies tangled in a riot inside my stomach. I took a sip to settle my nerves. “So you weren’t kidding, were you?”

He slid onto the stool next to me. “About what?”

I deepened my voice and leaned forward. “My family only sits on the east side.”

He chuckled at my impersonation. “Oh. No, definitely wasn’t joking about that.” He swiped a hand down his thick denim-clad thigh. “The name of this place, the Grudge Holder, comes from a long-standing feud between two families in town—the Kings and the Sullivans.”

I leaned forward on the stool, resting my chin in my hand and widening my eyes. “Tell. Me. Everythin. . .