Lure Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Blurb

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  About the Author

  LURE

  by

  MAYA SLIVER

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright 2019 ©Maya Sliver

  This book is a work of fiction. No part of the content relates to any real person or persons, living or dead.

  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 in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imaginations or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any opinions of the author have been rendered based on specific facts, under certain conditions, and subject to certain assumptions, and may not and should not be used or relied upon for any other purpose, including, but not limited to, for use in or in connection with any legal proceeding.

  Blurb

  Blake

  I never knew the brooding single dad in the neighborhood would become my obsession one day.

  I’m in trouble for lusting after a man who is decades older than me, but then he’s too perfect to avoid. Too hot to ignore. Too forbidden to let go.

  I’m tired of frat boys and clingy boyfriends. I need someone like William in my life.

  William

  She enters our lives like a gusty wind. At first, she seems like a bad influence on my daughter. But soon, I realize Blake is not all about prank and mischief.

  There's a lot hidden behind her naughty eyes and impish grin.

  I want to help her, offer her a shoulder to cry on, unbeknown about my own emotions. Feelings that draw me closer to her. Not in a normal way but in a very forbidden way.

  Chapter One

  William

  The pickup truck bounces and jerks against the rocky pebbles and stones of the driveway. I pull over giving the vehicle a steady halt. A tiny quaint structure recognized by a steep roof, a central chimney, and symmetrical windows framing the front door materializes in front of us. Lush green surroundings make the sight even more mesmeric.

  “Not bad, Dad.”

  I drift my eyes to Carrie only to find my daughter smiling, her eyes still fixed on the beautiful home in front of us.

  “You like it?” I ask, looking at my daughter. The same 17-year-old teenager who a while ago was arguing or should I say fighting with me.

  We only moved houses last spring. This sudden movement within a span of six months was kind of shocking to her. But then we had to move. There wasn’t any other way to keep us safe from becoming a hot topic among gossip mongers.

  “I love it,” she beams.

  “Then let’s get our things inside.”

  “Yeah. Let’s.” She looks at me nodding before turning and climbing out of the truck. In a flash, she is at the front door, perhaps observing the structure or applauding her dad’s choice.

  “Hey, Kiddo, let’s get the stuff moving,” I call her, opening the cargo area and begin unloading the vehicle, placing the cardboard boxes, one after another, on the velvety patch of green grass.

  In the past year, we’ve sold most of our heavy furniture, home appliances, and delicate artifacts keeping only necessary things with us. This way it always felt easier to move from one place to another, without worrying much about our expensive stuff getting damaged during relocation drills. Also, this seemed to be the best possible way to not let our past hover over us any longer. Past that could only make it difficult for both me and Carrie to move on.

  I still wonder what made Stella fall for Scott. He was no more than a casual friend to us. I met him for the first time during a concert three years ago. After that, he dropped in at our house a couple of times. Nothing more than that. Then, suddenly one day, out of nowhere, my wife informed me that she was leaving me for Scott.

  I was stunned. For a moment, I thought it was some silly joke of hers. But then she dropped one more bomb, making it clear that she didn’t want to look back. She wanted to sever all the ties between us once and for all. Ties that held us together as a family. She even hated the idea of visiting her daughter.

  “Hey, it’s nice.” Carrie’s voice echoes in the empty house, bouncing off its brick-stone walls as she wanders inside the big-enough foyer.

  Before I could tell her that she can choose either of the two bedrooms upstairs, her feet bounce on the wooden staircase. Next minute, she disappears on the first floor of the house. A minute later, she emerges out in the corridor near the wooden railing, glancing down.

  “Dad, I want the room with two windows.”

  “Of course, Kiddo. Now let’s get your things to your room.”

  “Okay.” Her feet thump and thwack on the staircase as she descends and starts helping me with the boxes.

  The next few hours are spent setting up the bedrooms and the kitchen. We have two bedrooms upstairs, one on either corner of the first floor. In between the bedrooms, there’s a covered patio that faces lush green fields of grass and various other crops. This isn’t a village but a secluded spot in the uptown where much of nature is left untouched and pure.

  We are lucky that we have some very good high schools in the neighborhood. Even more lucky that Carrie got admission in one of the most reputed ones—The Westlake High. Her school is just a few blocks away from here. I can drop her in the morning while going to work. If everything goes well, we can easily prolong our stay in this house from six months to a year.

  Carrie will be with me for the next year only. Once she graduates from high school, she has to apply for university. Until then, this Cape Cod house seems to be the best place to spend some quality time with my daughter away from all those prying eyes and sympathetic gestures that people shower over a single Dad. At least, I can have some happy family time before my daughter leaves the nest.

  This is also the reason why I keep on changing places. I don’t want Carrie to feel emotionally insecure or vulnerable among all the gossiping aunts, neither do I want to serve as an eye candy, earning t
he title of the hot dad next door.

  I don’t know why women throw themselves at me all the time. Gone are the days when a single glance or a smile could earn me the hottest female of the town. Now, I’m a forty-year-old man, father of a teen. Now, it’s not my place to date but my daughter’s to find a suitable boy of her age. Not that I approve of any Tom, Dick, or Harry to date my daughter. The boy has to undergo strict quality control before he dares to date my daughter.

  Yes, of course, they have to get my permission. If this makes me a possessive Dad, I’m one because I don’t want my daughter to suffer the pain of a heartbreak. I don’t want Carrie to hand over her heart to someone who doesn’t know its value, who doesn’t know the true meaning of love, commitment, relationship, and family. I don’t want Carrie to fall for someone like my ex-wife who left both her husband and daughter only for materialistic wealth and showoff.

  Stella was a party animal. She was outgoing, a social figure, and a fashionista among the town’s elite. Her father Derek Clark used to be a hotelier before the business crumbled and he went bankrupt. All this happened a few years ago. Stella stopped receiving the easy allowance that her father would put in her bank account each month. This led to her feeling lacking and unequipped and devastated. Because once you get into the habit of burning money, it’s hard to live on a budget.

  “Dad, what are we having for lunch. I’m really hungry.”

  “Let’s get to cook something for us. How about some grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  “Hmm. How about going to the nearby diner, though not sure if this place has one.”

  Carrie swaggers into the kitchen while I’m busy accommodating the George Foreman and Vitamix on the black kitchen platform.

  “Sounds good to me. Let me finish with this and then we’re off on the roads. Let’s explore the place. I’m sure we’ll find one. This place is full of natural beauty. I’m sure there must be some decent restaurants for folks who want to just enjoy the views in this part of the town.”

  “Cool beans. I’m all set.” She grins.

  Within the next few minutes, we are on the road, riding in the same pickup truck that I bought after selling the Mazda, which I’d bought to impress Stella. Once she was gone, there wasn’t any point in keeping the sophisticatedly cramped convertible with us just for the sake of having it. We needed a vehicle that’d be more spacious and easier on the pocket too given the ever-increasing fuel prices.

  “Dad, this way.” Carrie points to a narrow lane that proliferates from the main road and goes deep inside.

  My eyes study the street with rows of brick-stone houses on either side as I slow down the vehicle.

  “Do you think we can find a resto there?”

  “Not sure but I think we can find someone there.”

  “Someone?” I narrow my eyes.

  “Someone who can help us find the main street.”

  “And how can you be so sure?” A wave of hunger lances through my stomach.

  “Oh, come on, Dad don’t be so fidgety. There’s no harm in exploring. If we don’t find anyone, we can always go back.”

  It’s not always easy to go back, darling. I hope you understand this sooner.

  “Okay, let’s see if we can get to the eatery before the last cookie in the bag gets consumed,” picking a mini cookie out of the bag and then shoving it into my mouth, I speak. The cheese cookie melts on my tongue and makes my hunger even more pronounced.

  Taking a turn, I enter the street, glancing at the neat houses with blooming gardens in front. Indeed, this is the place where I always wanted to live. Serene, beautiful and so bright and colorful. The sight is beautiful enough to distract from the rumble of my stomach and keep on driving until we reach a dead end.

  “So…” I exhale a dose of impatience, glancing at my daughter.

  “We can always go back.”

  “Not always, sugar.”

  Realizing now is not the time to teach one more life lesson to my daughter, I try to steer the truck in reverse. Just as I turn the wheel to the right, a mild tap on my side of the window cease the movement of my hands on the steering.

  My head motions to the window and my eyes meet with a pair of green ones sticking to the other side of the glass.

  Chapter Two

  Blake

  Strangers are easy prey.

  Today’s target is this adorable looking couple. Yet, I’m amazed to see the difference in their ages. Perhaps, they aren’t a couple but brother and sister. An elder brother has taken out his little sister for a ride.

  Yes. They look more like siblings than boyfriend and girlfriend. The cute chubby face framed with jet black hair sitting on the passenger’s seat is perhaps the younger sister of this dark and handsome man. Though her pouty mouth and snub nose are in stark contrast to her brother’s laser-sharp features, both got the same set of eyes—big piercing baby blues. The color of their hair is also the same. From their demeanors, one can easily say they share a very cute brother and sister relationship.

  The girl is probably in her teens. Her brother appears to be in his late twenties, perhaps pushing to thirties.

  He’s handsome and did I mention how I drool over the ripples on his cotton clad arms as he backs the truck. Boy, he owns a drool-worthy body and his white button-down is flaunting every single ripple of muscle on his tanned throat and a sliver of hairy chest.

  Yeah, I needed a lift and when I saw a truck coming my way, it seemed like heaven had granted all my wishes. I never thought I would get a free ride to Trisha’s Grooming Clinic which is 12 miles from here. Since this is the outskirts of town, it’s often hard to get an Uber and the nearest bus hop is four miles away.

  The man rolls down the window and looks at me suspiciously.

  “Can I get a lift?” I ask, plastering a helpless smile on my face.

  “Oh yeah, hop on.” The chubby face beams, craning her head from behind her brother.

  “Thank you.”

  Next moment, I’m sitting at the back of the old rustic truck.

  “New to this place? I haven’t seen you guys around here before,” I speak glancing at the man in the rear-view mirror. He never bothers to look at me, let alone answer my question. All the time, his blue eyes are gawking the road in front of us as if it’s not a concrete path but a woman’s naked body. The chubby face answers, “Yeah. We are new here. Just looking for a place to eat.”

  “Cool. That’s why you don’t know that this place is free of any commercialization. The only closest restaurant is twelve miles away from here.”

  “Seriously?”

  Oh. Wow. I never expected such a knee-jerk response from Mister Grumpy.

  “It’s okay, Dad.”

  What the fuck!

  It feels suddenly all the butterflies in my stomach start flocking harder the moment I hear the word Dad.

  I can’t believe this. This is literally some serious joke.

  Chubby-Face smiles. She then looks back at me. “I’m Caroline.” She puts her hand out for a handshake. Startled, I can’t work out what to do and what not. And when I realize my jaw is slacked and eyes are wide open for quite some time, I put my hand in hers.

  Still recovering from the sudden shock, I fumble, “I…I’m Blake. You can call me Blakey. That’s what all my friends call me.”

  “Oh, Wow. You’ve got a whole bunch of friends, haven’t you?” Her eyes grow wide with excitement.

  “Yes, and they all are waiting for me at Trisha’s,” swallowing the lump of shock back down my throat, I speak.

  “You’ve got boys also in your gang?”

  “Oh, yeah, of course. Where’s the fun without boys?” Pulling myself together, I wink at her, raising my hand in the air which she high-fives with enthusiasm.

  Before we can discuss more about boys, her father’s obvious frown makes her fall silent. She straightens her posture and sits tight in her seat, hands folded to her chest. Caroline doesn’t speak after that. As the truck eats up the distance, she�
�s either looking out the window—probably inhaling the warmth of the bright late summer sun that filters in through the windshield—or staring at the empty concrete road in front of us.

  Is she annoyed with her overprotective bro… oh, sorry… father? What’s so wrong in discussing about boys that Mister Grumpy gives his little baby a death stare?

  After that, the ride to Trisha’s gets eerily silent. I’m not used to that much silence, so I request the fatherly figure sitting behind the wheel to play something on the radio.

  To my surprise, he puts on some music. French laments start dissolving melancholy in the atmosphere. In contrast to my liking of heavy metal or jazz, the deck plays sad slow ballads one after another. Thinking almost anything is better than none at this time, I keep my mouth shut, not asking him to change the music.

  “So where’s the restaurant?” I hear a husky baritone echo in the interior of the old rugged truck as the vehicle halts in front of Trisha’s Grooming Clinic. French ballads still play in the background.

  “Hey. We’re here,” I holler, opening my side of the door and jumping out of the vehicle, waving a hand to my friends who are standing a few feet from the byroad.

  Scurrying to Caroline’s side of the window, I say, “Thanks for the ride, sugar. See ya around.”

  She smiles and nods. My gaze travels from her cute face to the mess of attitude and arrogance wrapped in a pretty paper of sheer handsomeness and I feel my heart skip a beat. Those eyes are as blue as the summer sky above, they give me a tingle in my stomach. What’s wrong with me? Am I crushing over a man who is decades older than me? And how can I crush on him when we’ve just met? No, I’m not crushing on him. At least, until we get to know more about each other, which seems highly unlikely in the present circumstances. Because as far as I can see, he’s gonna hate me after this.