Simmering Love (Slow Burn Book 3) Read online

  Simmering Love

  Advance Reader Copy

  Jacie Lennon

  Simmering Love

  By Jacie Lennon

  Copyright © 2020 by Jacie Lennon

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website

  Cover Designer: Alora Kate at Kover Kraze

  Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  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

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Jacie Lennon

  For A - you are one of the strongest women I know.

  1

  Ben

  I need this couch gone. It’s a reminder of the conflict I have with my brother, and it’s time to sell it. I walk around each side of it, snapping pictures and making sure to take a close-up of the slight hole on the side. I will be lucky to get a hundred dollars for it, but I have to try. I can’t give that part of my life away for free. But I’ve made a pact with myself that once the couch is gone, so are my hang-ups. I’m not going to think about it any longer.

  Once I’m done snapping pictures, I quickly upload them on my laptop and get to work on making a marketplace ad.

  Couch for sale: $100

  Great condition, except for one small hole. See pictures for details.

  Must pick up. Serious inquiries only. All spam will go unanswered.

  There, that should do it. I shut my laptop, walk into the kitchen of my apartment, and grab a Gatorade. My phone starts to vibrate in my back pocket, so I fish it out. Seeing the name Mason flash across the screen, I swipe.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. You up for some ball? Craig and Ezra are in.”

  “Always.” I wipe my hand across my mouth and put the cap back on my drink. I take another look at the couch and sigh.

  A few minutes later, I’m running out the door in my ball gear, headed to the local park, our usual spot for pick-up basketball games.

  I pull up and get out of the truck, my attention on getting my gear.

  “Where have you been the last few days?” Ezra says.

  Ezra, Craig, and Mason are firefighters with me at the same station. Most of my friends are coworkers, come to think of it. I’m the only volunteer out of the group; the rest of the guys are full-time. We don’t all usually have the same shift off of work, but today, we’ve lucked out since I took time off.

  “I had a personal matter to take care of.” I lock my car and slip my keys in my bag.

  Ezra gives me a nod and continues to dig something out of his truck while I take off for the court where Craig and Mason are standing.

  “Who else is coming?” I ask.

  “Just us,” Craig says. “Two on two.”

  I hold my hands out for him to pass me the ball before dribbling it toward the hoop to make a layup. This is exactly what I needed. A little time to get out of my head. To forget about my brother.

  Ezra comes jogging toward us as I stop shooting and tuck the ball under my arm.

  “Okay, let’s switch it up from last time. Ezra, you are with me, and Mason and Ben are together,” Craig says.

  “Not fair. You know the two of you are better than the two of us,” Mason says.

  “Speak for yourself,” I snap back. “I’m a baller. Can’t help that you picked ballet over basketball.”

  “I didn’t do ballet,” Mason snarls.

  “Fine, gymnastics.” I snicker.

  “It was for two months, and my grandmother made me go.” Mason rolls his eyes. “How do you even know about that?”

  “Grams told us,” I say.

  “Oh,” Mason says before holding his hands out for the ball. I pass and he takes off down the court.

  Grams has been a touchy subject for Mason since she passed away. She raised him for a large part of his childhood.

  Ezra and Craig jump into action, running after him while I swing around to the side. Mason lobs the ball over their heads, and I catch it, jumping in the air and releasing from the corner.

  “Corner three,” I yell in Peter Griffin’s voice over the grumbling coming from Ezra and Craig. “Gotta be quicker than that, old men.”

  “I’ll show you old man,” Craig shoots back.

  We play for an hour before we collapse on the bleachers, each of us digging out a drink to chug. I wipe the sweat off my chest with my T-shirt that I was wearing earlier. The late August sun is brutal.

  “Haven’t seen you around much,” Craig says, looking at me.

  “Been busy,” I say with a shrug and throw my drink in my bag.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just some family stuff,” I mutter, hoping they don’t push for more details.

  They stare at me for a moment before Craig looks at Mason.

  “So, heard you got family moving here?” Craig asks Mason.

  “Yeah, my cousin. She’s going to grad school. I’m helping her move into her new apartment.”

  “Why don’t you let her just stay with you?”

  “I offered, but she wanted her own place. Said she didn’t want to cramp my style.”

  “That means she doesn’t want to hear you bang Jules every night,” I retort.

  “I don’t bang her every night,” Mason says. “Sometimes, we do it during the day.” He winks while the three of us groan.

  “Man, you’ve got to quit winking; it’s weird,” Ezra says.

  “Jules doesn’t seem to mind,” Mason says, bending down to retie his shoe.

  “Exactly. That’s the word you need to focus on—Jules. Your wife,” I say.

  “Whatever. So, anyway, I gotta go. I’m supposed to be at my cousin’s place in an hour to check it out. I told her I’d look it over before she arrives,” Mason says, checking the time on his phone. He jumps up and grabs his stuff, jogging back to his truck.

  “Well, Nora is cooking dinner. Her parents are coming over, so I’ve got to be home and make sure she doesn’t get in a fight with her mom. They’ve been at each other’s throats lately,” Craig mutters as he stands to stretch.

  “Might not want to get in the middle of that,” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  “Trust me, I don’t want to stay out of it either,” he says with a groan.

  “It’s looking more and more like I should continue being single,” I say.

  “There are up
s and downs, but usually, the ups outweigh the downs.” Craig shrugs.

  I nod because I don’t know what else to say. I’m not married, and so far, I’m okay with that even though each of my friends is slowly being picked off by the love bug.

  I pull my water bottle from my bag and take a healthy drink before picking up my phone and seeing I have three new notifications. Two texts from my mom and one email. I absently swipe my phone open and quickly let my mom know I’ll be over for dinner sometime soon, and then I pull up the email, reading through and finding out I have an inquiry for the couch.

  PepperStratten12: Hi! I’m Pepper. I saw your ad for a couch, and I’m interested. Do you mind if I stop by to check it out today? That is, if you’re going to be home. I don’t want to intrude. Just let me know. Okay, thanks!

  Pepper. What an odd name. But I’m okay with it as long as she wants to take the couch off my hands. I’ll be glad to be rid of it. I only wish she could take the memories with it.

  Me: How does 3:30 sound?

  I throw my phone back on top of my bag, but it pings as soon as I do.

  Damn, that was quick.

  PepperStratten12: Sounds great! What’s your name?

  Great. A chatty Cathy.

  Me: Ben.

  PepperStratten12: Okay, Ben, see you at 3:30. You aren’t a serial killer, are you?

  Me: Uh … no. But I don’t think I’d tell you if I were.

  I snicker a little at the thought. Another ding.

  PepperStratten12: Good point. I’ve got mace, so don’t try anything weird.

  Me: I won’t even look at you.

  PepperStratten12: Great. See you.

  I smile a little as I turn my screen off and place my phone back in my bag. A throat clears, and I glance up to see Craig and Ezra staring at me.

  “What?” I ask with a scowl as I take another swig of water. “Why were you grinning at your phone?” Craig says, a smirk playing across his face.

  “I wasn’t.” I let my frown deepen as I busy myself with packing stuff away.

  “You got a girl we don’t know about?” Ezra asks with a chuckle.

  “A pretty lil’ thing?” Craig says in a singsong voice before both of them crack up.

  Man, they must not get out much these days if that’s what they find funny.

  “Nope. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a couch to sell.”

  “A couch?” Craig’s brow drops down as he looks at me in confusion.

  “Damn. Is Mark still at your place?” Ezra asks, looking at me with a grimace.

  “Nope,” I say with a shrug and sling my bag over my shoulder. “Gotta go. See y’all.”

  The drive back to my apartment is quiet. I don’t even bother turning on music as my mind drifts to yesterday before I shut the upsetting thoughts off.

  Once home, I hurriedly shower and then pick up a little before the strange Pepper arrives to check out the couch.

  I’m sitting at the table, munching on a sandwich and doing the crossword in the paper, like I always did with my grandpa before he passed, when the knock comes. It’s loud and forceful, and I scowl at my phone as I check the time.

  Three fifteen. Early.

  I peer out the peephole before opening the door, and I only see the top of a head as she fishes for something in her purse. I reach down to unlock the dead bolt and turn the knob, swinging the door open. I stare out and then look down and down some more before I finally land on her face. She can’t be much over five feet tall. I practically feel like a giant, standing before her at six-two.

  “Hi! Ben?” Her mouth curves open in a wide smile, and she bounces on her toes a little as she expectantly looks at me.

  I notice she has her hand clutched around a pink bottle of mace, and her other hand is wrapped around the long straps of her purse. When I don’t immediately answer, her smile falters, and she glances around at the other apartment doors.

  “Oh no. Do I have the wrong place?”

  “No, I’m Ben,” I say, sticking my hand out, and instantly, her smile returns.

  There’s something familiar about her, as if we’ve met, but I can’t put my finger on it.

  “Great. Hi, I’m Pepper. But you probably know that. I’m here to see the couch.”

  She waits for me to invite her in, and I move back, letting her peer through the door before she hesitantly steps through the doorway.

  “Just you?” I ask, stuffing my hands in my pockets while I raise my eyebrows.

  I take the time to look at her while her gaze is fastened on the couch.

  “Yes. My cousin was going to come with me but got hung up,” she says absently as she waves her small hands around in the air, the mace still clutched in one.

  She’s wearing a pair of denim shorts that show off her toned legs and a small tank top that doesn’t quite meet them. My eyes instantly go to the little peek of tan skin that her shirt shows me as she moves. As she turns her back to me, I see her long, dark hair reaches the top of her ass, and I weirdly want to run my hands through it.

  Down, boy.

  “Where’s the hole?” she asks as she turns back around, one hand going to a hip.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The hole, on the couch?” She nods her head toward the piece of furniture in question.

  Oh.

  “Right. On the side of the armrest here,” I say as I point toward the hole with singed fibers outlining it.

  She bends down to eye it, acting like she’s about to pull a magnifying glass out and count the threads that make up the fabric of the couch. I stand behind her and openly ogle her fine—ahem—form. I have the wherewithal to jerk my eyes to the side when she stands back up and looks at me.

  “Perfect. One hundred? I’ll take it,” she says rapid-fire before I can get a word in edgewise.

  I nod as her phone starts to ring, and she walks away to answer. I look at the door, trying to determine how we will get it out. I’m distracted by her as she wails ten steps away from me. Well, maybe not wails, but her voice is high-pitched as she talks to whoever is on the other end of the phone.

  The fuck?

  “What do you mean, not livable? Why didn’t they tell me this when I spoke to them yesterday?” She pauses while the other person responds. “No, you tell them I want my deposit back—now.” The anger in her voice makes me want to take a few steps back, for fear that her head might explode.

  My heart sinks as I realize she’s not going to need the couch after all. It’s not as much about the money since I work a steady job and I’m single. Though having a paying roommate would be a good thing. I just want the couch gone. I hate it.

  “So sorry,” I hear her voice say behind me as she walks back over to the couch.

  She turns and plops down on it, causing me to furrow my brow.

  “So … I’m guessing you don’t need the couch anymore?” I say as she folds herself in half and rests her head on her arms.

  She gives a big, gusty sigh before throwing herself back up and against the couch.

  “May is looking into it,” she says suddenly, and she starts to run her hands over the couch in a weirdly seductive manner.

  I’m mesmerized, watching them swirl back and forth, and the silence jerks my eyes back to her face.

  “So, I think I’ll still take it. Gotta have a couch wherever I end up.” She nods as if that’s the final word on the matter.

  “Cool,” I say as I thrust my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. “So, how are you taking it with you? Do you have a truck?”

  “Oh, no, I drove my car here.” She gives a tinkling little laugh that fits with her small stature. She’s like Tinker Bell’s sister. “May is coming with a trailer to help.”

  “May?” I wrinkle my brow. “Is that your cousin?”

  “Yep,” she says and doesn’t offer any more information.

  “Okay … do you think you and May can get it on your own?”

  “Oh, May is a guy,” she says with a laugh.


  Now, I’m even more confused, but I decide not to press. Whatever works for them.

  We pass the next twenty minutes with her telling me about her life, living in Texas and how this is just like being there but different—as if that makes any sense—and she acts all surprised when I say I’ve never been to Texas. After that, we get to the point where she’s planning to fix me Tex-Mex for dinner one night even though I don’t know this woman from Adam—I don’t think. Something about her is still familiar. She’s a friendly one. I’m not usually chatty, but it doesn’t seem to matter to her. I think she would talk to a blank wall.

  “Is May on his way yet?” I ask, cutting into the conversation and using a lot of willpower not to laugh as I say the word May now that I know it belongs to a guy.

  “Yep,” she says before launching into how she took ballet, growing up, but she wasn’t any good at it, which was surprising to her, given how she’s not that tall.

  I just stare. What in the ever-living fuck? I’m going to need a nap once she leaves.

  “Oh, he’s here.” She jumps up and rushes to the door, flinging it open and running outside as if ol’ May would leave if she didn’t appear in the next five seconds.

  I push myself out of the chair I was camped out in with a grumble and head to the door.

  Rounding the corner, I see Pepper standing on the sidewalk as a guy exits a truck that I definitely know. I bend over, a guffaw and a snort breaking free from my body at the same time.

  “Hey, May,” I say with a wave before collapsing in another fit of laughter as he glares at me.