Haunted (West Haven Series, book 2): A Second Chance at love, BWWM romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  HAUNTED (West Haven Series, book 2)

  Rhonda Lott

  Haunted (West Haven Series, book 2)

  Copyright © 2016 by Rhonda Lott

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, redistributed, by any means without prior written permission from the author.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOUGE

  CHAPTER ONE

  The world glistened and shimmered a brilliant white. It was a winter wonderland and any other time, she would have been enchanted, but the constantly falling snow covered the small road, the windshield, and every single thing outside her window. Brooklynn’s car inched down the snow covered two lane road, listening to the sound of it crunching under her tires caused the nervous knot in her middle to twist. The tree limbs dipped, heavy with the white stuff, even the sky rained down huge white flakes. Brooklynn Southerland cursed low under her breath, watching the snow pile up into drifts alongside the road.

  Snow tires never crossed her mind when she planned her escape, more like forced exile to be honest. Her crazy, stalker ex-husband caused all this. Kevin’s idea of marriage consisted of him doing whatever and whoever he wanted, while she kept her mouth shut. If she spoke up, he would threaten, demean, or bully her mercilessly. The final straw was when he punched her so hard she had to have her jaw wired shut. When she left the hospital, she went to her parent’s house and filed for divorce the next day.

  Kevin refused to accept the divorce. He showed up at her apartment, ignoring the restraining order she placed against him. He came to the school, where she worked as a pre-school teacher, causing a disturbance. His type of disturbance meant the cops were called. After a handful of those incidents, she was fired. Kevin spread lies and rumors about her. And in their small town, his family was considered pillars of the community, so his lies were believed. Her reputation was flushed down the toilet as well as any hope of her finding a teaching job in her hometown.

  Brook slid her headband back into place. Her unruly curls had a way of defying any form of restraints she placed on them. Left to their own devices, her curls would pop free and right now she needed her vision unobstructed to handle the icy road. The world was hushed and still, as if waiting for Mother Nature to end her assault. The sun was moments from setting. Brook felt a sudden rising panic. She knew that with the lack of sunlight, the temperature would drop and all the moisture on the ground would turn to ice.

  West Haven, population 3,000 the sign read about ten miles back, but she hadn’t run across the town yet. She had to have made a wrong turn somewhere. There was nothing far as the eye could see but forest guarding the long lonely road. She had to run into a house or a gas station soon. The long hours driving caused her shoulders to ache and her ass to grow numb. The physical strain on her body didn’t matter, because with every mile she drove, she was getting farther away from her old life and closer to a new one.

  The car’s backend veered sharply to the right. Brook lifted her foot off the gas and was able to maintain control, for two seconds. She hit another patch of black ice and the car spun out of control.

  “Holy Shit!” She screamed, heart beating hard and fast. Twirling clouds of snow and loud roaring of wind was all she could see or hear as the world spun out of control. Her seatbelt pulled tight across her chest, cutting off her air, momentarily. She found her breath to scream. The huge brown trunk of a pine tree was coming straight for her. She prayed loud and long. “Father, forgive me, and accept my worthless soul home.”

  Brook squeezed her eyes closed, bracing for impact. The front end of her car slammed hard into the snow filled ditch beside the road. Brook’s upper body pitched forward, the air bag punched her in the face, and then her head slammed back against the headrest.

  The world took its sweet time righting itself, Brooklynn’s queasy stomach took even longer. She sat there waiting, shaking, and thankful she was alive. The air bag billowed in front of her, face still burned from the impact of hitting it. A sharp pain in her neck from jerking back and forward, caused her to groan when she pushed open her door. Brook couldn’t stop her legs from shaking as she crawled out the car into the cold, wet piles of snow.

  She wrestled her backpack out the back, slung it over her aching shoulder, and then wrapped her coat tightly around herself. What now? Stay with the car and freeze to death or start walking towards the town, in hopes someone was out for a joy ride, in a fucking snow storm. Wonderful choices. Brook pulled a lung full of cold air in and started walking.

  The frigid winds pushed her from the back as she shuffled through the wet snow, down the long dark road. The flash light function of her cell phone would soon run out as her battery died. Ominous, that’s the only word she could use to describe the darkened forest along the right side of the road. On her left were pastures of snow. This was the perfect horror movie setup. A lone woman on a dark and deserted road, a delicious snack for a vampire, werewolf, or a machete wielding hillbilly. Brook picked up her pace, even though she knew she was being silly, a small measure of fear still caused her to shiver slightly under her coat. A flickering light off in the distance caught her eye. Brook stomped towards the light, noticing as she got closer a white fence that blended into the snow, making it all but impossible to see, until you were right up on it. There was a long driveway that led to, hot damn, a house. A long ranch house, with a large horse stable and barn at the end of an incredibly long driveway. Brook shouted with joy, she was saved.

  **

  Christopher’s eyes swam with tears, he bit his quivering bottom lip. Dean’s heart swelled, his boy was all the family he had left and he loved him too damned much. The desire to cave and tell him it was ok, no harm done, rode him hard. His six year old knew how to get to him like no one else could. Not this time. He was sticking to his guns.

  “You called Ms. Knolls a whale Chris. Didn’t you think she would call me?”

  “I didn’t say nothing, dad. It was Sam.” He folded his little arms across his chest and pouted.

  “Son, Samantha is a girl and she sounds nothing like you. Stop coming up with excuses, your punishment stands. No television, no internet, and no riding the horses for the next week.” Dean dished up soup for them then sat down.

  “You never believe me, no matter what.” Chris said, voice low, tears sliding down his cheeks.

  Dean’s conviction wobbled. Chris looked so much like his mom. His eyes were the same bright brown as Natasha’s. Dean met his Dominican wife right out of college. They fell in love instantly. Nat had the most amazing spirit, beautiful coco brown skin and compellingly intense eyes. They were married for six wonderful years until she died of pancreatic cancer two years ago. The other part of him, snuffed out way too soon. Leaving him with Chris to raise alone, a ranch that took more time than he had to give it, and an empty soul drifting through life. It punched him in the heart watching their child cry. But, he was a single father now and he had to teach Chris
right from wrong.

  Chris missed his mother and was acting out because of it. Every housekeeper, he tried to hire left within a week. Chris was a terror to them. Putting frogs in the food, leaving gobs of slime all over the floor, and in one instance he put manure in the bathtub, and now he couldn’t find anyone brave enough to dare work for him. His boy was a handful to say the least. He was sent home once a week from first grade. First fucking grade.

  If only Nat were here. She was such a good mother, and would instinctively know what to do with Chris. He on the other hand was at his wits end. He couldn’t work the ranch properly having to take care of the house and cook all the meals, not to mention leave work all the time to get the boy after he was sent home from school. No one from town would step foot in his house because of Chris and his antics. In moments like this he missed his wife, the love of his life, with every fiber of his being. They promised to love each other forever and now he was here alone still loving her. From the moment he laid eyes on Natasha, he knew there could be no other for him. There never would be.

  “If you keep on the way you’re going. The school’s going to kick you out and you’re only in the first grade, son.” Dean placed his large hand over Chris’ tiny one. “I need you to help me out. Be a good boy for me, I know you can.” Dean ruffled Chris’s dark curls.

  Chris gave him a small smile, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. “It’s hard daddy. I’m always getting in trouble, but I’m not trying to, I swear.”

  Dean thought back to his younger days. “Yeah, I know it’s hard. I got into trouble when I was your age. But my dad sat me down and told me that to be a man you got to take stock of what you’ve done wrong and make changes to never do it again. You keep trying to do the right things, and fix the wrong, then you’ll grow up to be a good man. I don’t expect you to be perfect, I just want you to try and think before you act, ok?”

  Chris nodded once. “I’m gonna try daddy, promise.”

  Someone pounded on the front door. “What the…” Dean got up to answer it. Who the hell would be out in such a storm? Before he could reach the door Chris flung it open. The boy stood slack jawed at what he saw before him.

  A woman stood on his doorstep covered from head to toe in snow and shaking like a leaf. Dean frowned down at her. What in the world could this person be doing out in such bad weather? She turned her face up to him. Dean caught his breath and took a step back. The woman was beautiful, with a nutshell brown complexion and dark brown eyes. Her lips were trembling, but they were amazingly full and tempting. Her hair was a mass of thick black curls sitting on top of her head, sprinkled with snow. She was tall for a woman, coming up to his eye level. Thank God for that heavy winter coat covering up the rest of her body, because Dean felt his dick jump in his pants. A hard on, oh hell no.

  “Thank goodness.” She heaved a deep sigh. “My car went off the road a ways back and my cell isn’t getting reception. I could use some help.” She gave him a quivering smile.

  That small upward turn of her lips, reached right in and clenched around his gut. The universe couldn’t be this cruel, placing a beautifully tempting female seeking shelter from the storm at his door. She kick started his long dead and buried desires with just the look of her dark soulful eyes. Dean felt his cock go from Simi-hard to full on raging erection, just from that smile. No and fuck no.

  “You can sleep in the barn, there’s blankets out there.” He said coldly and slammed the door.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Sleep in the mother fluffing barn.” Was this guy serious? It was colder than an artic fisherman’s ass out here. Brook felt anger sizzle along her spine. The unfriendly rancher was the devil in disguise. Men in general were the spawn of Satan. Mr. Rancher was no different. Yeah, he was drop dead gorgeous, with chocolate brown locks, and sparkling gray eyes. His thick beard covered the bottom portion of his face and made him look rugged, nipple puckering, ultra-male. But, he was an asshole. Maybe he was racist. Didn’t want her brown butt sitting under his lily white roof. Well, fuck him. She wouldn’t put her brown butt in his fucking horse barn either. Poor little boy, being raised by that brute. Brook clutched her backpack, pissed as hell. She started stomping down the steps and her feet slipped on an icy patch, flying out from under her. Brook landed hard on the porch like a sack of potatoes, on her already tender brown butt.

  “Son of a firkin, freaking, motherscootin…”

  Strong arms came around her waist and lifted her up. Brook struggled. “Let go of me, you racist son of a snake.”

  The guy chuckled as he carried her inside and sat her on her feet. His kid peeked out from behind him, giggling behind his hand.

  “Your language is colorful to say the least. You do know you're an adult, right? You’re allowed to say swear words.”

  She simply glared at him, the nerve.

  The giant glared back, then shrugged. “I’m no racist lady, all you need to do is take a look at my son to see that.”

  The little guy stepped out, he had close cut black curls, light brown skin, and big brown eyes. The child was the spitting image of his dad only in a toasty brown version.

  “Oh, well, if you’re not offended by my skin tone, then why did you kick me out in the storm? Is that how you treat strangers in West Haven, pop 3000?” She asked, raising a brow and rubbing her bottom.

  “No, it’s not. Let me apologize for that. It wasn’t you, well it was you, but not the way you think.” His face reddened and he clamped his mouth shut.

  “Well, that’s clear as mud.” Brook took a breath. “Thank you for letting me inside out of the storm. Your home is….” She took a good look around.

  The place was a tossed wrapper away from a pig sty. Clothing and trash was thrown about, a fine sheen of dust covered all the furnisher and there was a funky odor in the air.

  “Did somebody die in here?” She asked, scrunching up her nose.

  The rancher bristled. “You don’t like it, the barn is still available.” He crossed his thick arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes on her.

  Brook squirmed under that glacial stare. “I’m sorry, you pissed me off for a second, but that’s no reason to be rude.” She extended her hand. “I’m Brooklynn Southerland. Thanks for helping me.”

  He gazed at her offered hand for longer than was comfortable. When she was about to drop her hand, he grabbed it. His fingers were big and calloused, sparking heat to travel up her arm.

  “I’m Dean Mills and this is my son Chris.”

  The boy smiled, so adorable, with a gap where his two front teeth should have been. Brook couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. He was the cutest thing in the world.

  Brook knelt down offering him her hand. “Pleased as peas to meet ya, Chris”

  He giggled again, while pumping her hand hard up and down. “You talk funny. I like it though.”

  “Thank you bud, and thanks for letting me in.”

  “Ya welcome, daddy was a little…”

  “Stank face?” she offered.

  Chris fell over laughing.

  “Well, every good deed never goes unpunished.” Dean shook his head at them, but she could have sworn she spotted a grin under all that facial hair. “Mr. Stank Face says, let’s eat. You aren’t going nowhere in that storm. So you can make yourself to home. We’ll get you on your way in the morning.”

  Brook followed them into their messy kitchen, smelled their dinner, and her brain screamed at her to please, please, reconsider the barn.

  **

  If she scrunched that cute little nose of hers up one more damn time, Dean couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. He was tempted to kiss that look of disgust off her face or spank that deliciously round tight ass of hers. He hung her coat up on the coat rack and his heart took off. He knew it, he just knew her body would be as tempting as those lips of hers. She had a long but curvy body, high breast and a waist not tiny but narrow enough. His hands could probably span it easily. That curly
black bun on top of her head wobbled with her every movement and he half expected, half wished it would fall. The worse part of it all was how she walked in here and enchanted his boy. She wasn’t like any of the other women who met Chris, having heard of his antics, stayed as far away from him as possible. Yeah, his boy had a bad reputation in West Haven, not one brave female sole would take him on. This one, with her nonsensical words and big ass smiles, hit it off with Chris in no time flat. How dare she?

  Right now she was at the stove, “fixin up his soup” so she said. Claiming it wasn’t edible. He was the first to admit he wasn’t the best cook. They weren’t dead yet from his cooking.

  He looked over at Chris, the boy’s eyes followed Brook, the name she insisted they call her, around the kitchen with wide eyed wonder. What’s gotten into the kid? You’d think fucking Merry Poppins just dropped down on her umbrella. This woman was trouble. His dick knew it, that’s why the traitor was still hard as steel. He hadn’t gotten aroused like this in two years. The women of the town were after the widower, until he let them know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t in the market for a new wife. He still wasn’t.

  She placed the bowl in front of him and the smell alone had his mouth-watering. Chris wasted no time and started slurping the soup in.

  “This is so good.” Chris mumbled.

  Dean scooped in a mouthful, it tasted even better than it smelled. “This is really good, what did you do to it?” Dean asked. She was a miracle worker the way she changed the soup from bland to delicious in a matter of minutes.

  She shrugged, “Just seasoned it with a little onion, garlic, and magic powder.” Brook winked at Chris, who was busy eating like he’d never tasted food before. The kid got what he deserved, running off all the housekeepers. He was forced to eat his dad’s food for the past two months. She ate in silence, her eyes traveling around the room, this time with a touch of sadness. He wondered what she was thinking. When he got a good look at her face, Dean was struck again at how beautiful she was. Soft, that was the word to describe her. She smiled at Chris and a little dimple appeared, but only on one cheek. That bun of hers toppled precariously to the side as she canted her head, giving him her attention. Surprisingly, a smile came to his face. Where the hell did that come from, he ducked his head, concentrating on his bowl.