Jordan, page 1
JORDAN
GUARDIANS OF THE NORTH BOOK 2
KALI HART
Jordan is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Kali Hart
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author/publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
1. Ella
2. Jordan
3. Ella
4. Jordan
5. Ella
6. Jordan
7. Ella
8. Jordan
9. Ella
10. Jordan
11. Ella
12. Jordan
13. Ella
14. Ella
15. Jordan
16. Ella
17. Jordan
Epilogue
1
ELLA
“This is your chance,” Serenity, my best friend since the second grade, says to me in all seriousness. She caps my shoulders with firm hands and squeezes. Our gazes meet in the oversized dressing room mirror. “Probably your only chance.”
Today is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but the knots in my stomach have only tightened as the morning’s progressed. There aren’t enough mimosas in the world to change how I feel. This isn’t cold feet. This is reality giving me a gut punch.
“I can’t marry him.” Speaking the words out loud for the first time, even whisper quiet, my world seems to shift on its axis. I feel like such a horrible person, but those four little words have been twisting on repeat in my subconscious for months. I stare at my reflection, hardly recognizing the woman in the mirror cinched in a twelve-thousand-dollar wedding dress I never liked but my mother insisted I had to have. I’m tired of my life revolving around making the right impression.
“I won’t marry him.” I blink, surprised by the force in my declaration. But I can’t walk down the aisle and marry the wrong man. I can’t do it. I squeeze Serenity’s hand where it rests on my shoulder. Oh boy. I’m really going to do this, aren’t I? “And I hate this dress.”
“I hate it too.”
Our shared laughter breaks the tension for the briefest moment. “Sure you’re up for this?” I ask my bestie. In a life that’s been so carefully controlled by my overbearing mother, I feel lucky to have Serenity in my life. She’s bold and fearless in ways I’ve only ever dreamed I could be. “Damage control is a big ask.”
“Your mother doesn’t scare me.”
“She should.” My mother’s a very powerful, well-connected woman in this city. She doesn’t take kindly to people crossing or embarrassing her. She tends to make very public examples of those who do. The only reason she isn’t hovering right now is because she’s at a board meeting two blocks away. After it concludes, she’s promised to be by my side until I leave for my honeymoon. My escape window is narrow. If I don’t go now, I might not have another chance to run. “You could come with me.”
“To Alaska in winter?” Serenity shakes her head. “No thanks.”
“This is crazy, right?” Not only am I planning to skip out on my own wedding, but I’ve decided the logical place to run is North Haven. It’s only because of social media that I know Jordan Harris lives there and is most likely single. After ten years, I doubt he’ll be happy when I show up unannounced.
“When you close your eyes and imagine walking down the aisle, who’s at the altar waiting for you?”
“Not Theo.” The only man I’ve ever pictured vowing to share my life with is the one whose heart I broke a decade ago. It doesn’t matter that I did it to save his career, or that he thinks it was all about college money. It doesn’t matter how hard I’ve tried to move on. Jordan is the only man I’ve ever truly loved. When I gave him my heart, I never really got it back. Not in one piece, anyway.
“It’s your coast guardsman, right?”
“This is a horrible idea.”
“More horrible than marrying the wrong man? Do you think you’d ever be happy never knowing what might happen if you went for that second chance with Jordan?”
I don’t say anything, I don’t have to. I know she’s right. It wouldn’t be fair to marry Theo when my heart still aches for my past. The man my mother wants me to marry because the match creates all the right connections isn’t right for me. I’m pretty sure he knows it, too. But love was never a priority for her. I don’t think he’s cheated on me, but the way his eyes flirt with other women whose waists are skinnier than mine is enough for me to know that someday he will. “I should tell Theo.”
“There’s no time, sweetie. Not if you want to dodge your mother. There’s an Uber outside. In one push of a button, I can have a plane ticket waiting for you at the airport.” Serenity pulls me to my feet since the corset of my dress makes it hard to move. Because I didn’t lose the extra pounds Mother demanded, she punished me. Instead of having the seamstress let out the dress, she insisted all I need was tighter strings. It didn’t occur to me how much that comment was a metaphor for my life until this moment. “It’s now or never.”
“Help me get out of this dress?”
Serenity’s phone pings. Even though her expression stays calm and focused, I don’t miss the flash of panic now dancing in her eyes. “Your mother’s on the move. There’s no time.”
“I can’t wear this on a plane!” I hiss, waving my hands to indicate the obnoxious, flashy dress. Any sudden movement seems to make the damn thing constrict, making it almost impossible to breathe. Not exactly ideal for a quick getaway. At least the form-fitting gown doesn’t have hoops.
Serenity drags my suitcase out of the closet. Theo and I are supposed to leave for our honeymoon tonight, which is the only reason I have it with me. But it’s packed for the Bahamas, not Alaska in the winter. I’m completely unprepared outside of a toothbrush.
Serenity squeezes me in a quick but suffocating hug before she pokes her head out the dressing room door. “All clear,” she whispers, frantically waving at me to follow her. We sneak to a back door where a car waits. “Make sure you turn your phone off.”
“Why?”
“So your mom can’t track your location.” Serenity opens the back door and practically shoves me in, chucking my suitcase in beside me. “Go!”
As the car pulls out of the alley and waits to turn onto the main road, I see my mother. She’s half a block away on her cell phone and walking so briskly someone might as well be chasing her. The word relax is not in her vocabulary. I drop down in the backseat, praying she doesn’t see me. One glance and this entire plan is toast.
“Miss, are you okay?” the driver asks, concerned.
“Drive!” I plead, my heart pounding in my ears. “The faster the better.”
I don’t dare peek out the window until we’re several blocks away from the wedding venue I never wanted. My mother will kill me once she figures out that I ditched my wedding and went after the man she forbid me to have a relationship with a decade ago.
My phone pings with a text from Serenity, not so gently reminding me to turn the damn thing off. I shoot back a quick love you xoxo and power it down, tempted to yank out the battery like they do in movies.
My pulse is racing as if the sprint to the car was a mile long. I let my eyes fall closed, blocking the familiar world I’m leaving behind. I draw a shaky breath, and then another, realization dawning the closer we get to the airport. Now that the choice has been made, I’m no longer afraid of being caught. The flutter under my breastbone is all because I don’t know how Jordan Harris will feel about seeing me after ten years. He has every right to hate me. But maybe, just maybe, he still holds a little bit of love in his heart for me.
2
JORDAN
“Meet you at The Iceberg in a couple hours?” James Devano, coast guardsman pilot and friend, says as we head to our vehicles. Though he’s not yawning like I am, the exhaustion is written in the tired lines around his eyes. But he’s as loyal as any of the J-Squad. None of them would miss the birthday party my sister organized at the local bar and grill. Even after a grueling twenty-four-hour shift that included not one, but two, water rescues. He’s flown the max number of hours the military allows before he’s grounded for mandatory rest. How he’s standing is beyond me.
“Only if you’re bringing me a gift,” I joke. “Preferably one wearing a big red bow and nothing else.”
James stops at his truck, his expression turning somber. “She didn’t?”
I toss my duffle bag in the backseat of my Jeep, wondering if there’s something wrong with me. I should be outraged that my girlfriend cheated on me. Well, ex-girlfriend now. I should want to throw or punch things. Or at least fucking yell. But all I feel is … indifferent. “Neighbor across the street,” I say with a shrug. “Should’ve seen that one coming. You can only get your mail mixed up so many times.”
“Maybe you need to try dating a different type of woman,” James says, scrubbing a hand over his worn face.
“You mean the type who isn’t prone to cheating?” I try to laugh it off, but the truth is I
Damn social media.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” James asks. “That girl from Virginia Beach.”
I regret getting drunk one night and telling James all about the one who got away. I blame my best friend, Jaxson. Ever since he and my sister fell in love, he’s been MIA a lot. Which is the only reason I drunkenly opened up to the curmudgeonly commitment-phobe of our group. I should’ve told Joel. At least he has a hot tub, even if he never uses it.
I haven’t seen Ella in a decade. Not since that fucking disaster of a day where she was forced to choose between her mother and me. Spoiler alert: I didn’t make the cut. I doubt I’ll ever see her again. Which is why it’s so fucking frustrating that I still compare every woman I date to her.
“Six-thirty,” I say, evading. “If you can’t bring me a naked woman, bring whiskey.” I hop in my Jeep and drive away before James can pry any more. Before he can figure out that the last thing I want is another night of meaningless sex with a woman who’ll only end up straying when I can’t give her what she wants.
I’m yawning uncontrollably when I pull into my driveway. What I thought was going to be a normal maintenance day bleeding hydraulic lines turned hectic when the rescue crew on duty had to launch and were down their flight mechanic. These missions are often a matter of life and death. I didn’t hesitate to grab my gear and go with them.
But it made for a helluva long day.
Since I need to burn the mattress—why Charity couldn’t fuck my neighbor in his house is the one thing that does piss me off—I settle for the couch. I turn on the TV, mostly for the noise, and shove a pillow under my head. My eyes fall closed for a half a second before I remember to set an alarm. Blakely’s been planning this party for at least a week. Being late to my own birthday party would not fare well for me.
I give myself two hours—plenty of time to hop in the shower and put on a clean shirt. But as I’m setting the phone on the coffee table, an urge overcomes me. I open my social media app, knowing damn well I shouldn’t. The last thing I want to see are pictures of Ella in a wedding dress, smiling up at another man.
Seems I’m a glutton for punishment, though.
I unfriended her years ago, like a dumbass. But I’ve been able to keep tabs on her via her best friend, Serenity. “Huh, no pictures yet,” I mutter, unsure how to feel about that. It’s late enough on the east coast that the marriage should be legal and the several hundred guests should be tipsy and liberal with their cameras.
Yet, there’s no pictures posted on the maid of honor’s social media.
Another yawn assaults me, making my eyes water. I set the phone down and give in to the urge to sleep. Ella’s mother probably made some fucking rule that no one could post any pictures or videos until she said so. That woman has always controlled everything Ella does. Hell, I bet she’s the one who picked out the fucking groom.
But as sleep overtakes me, the bitterness fades. Giving way to the angelic image of Ella’s dazzling smile that greets me like an old friend. It doesn’t hurt that she’s naked in my fantasy. Yeah, those bountiful tits definitely ease the decade-old blow. Maybe it makes me a hopeless idiot, but I’ve never stopped loving her. In this lifetime, I doubt I ever will.
3
ELLA
I sit at the bar of a place called The Iceberg, leisurely eating a basket of seasoned fries. I intended to grab a quick bite then head back to my lodge room and make a plan. But when I overhead the bartender tell one of the servers to put a couple tables together for a birthday party, I felt like it was a sign.
“Need a refill?” the bartender asks about my Dr. Pepper.
“Yes, thank you.”
How many birthdays could there be in this small town on the same day?
A yawn escapes, reminding me it’s four hours later on the east coast. I’d be leaving for the airport right now with Theo, headed on the honeymoon from hell.
I had plenty of time to mull over the last ten years of my life in a comfy first-class seat. When I stepped onto the plane looking like Frankenstein’s bride without a groom, the flight attendant took pity on me and bumped me up. I’ve never been so thankful in my life to have an empty seat beside me on a plane.
I stuck in ear buds and feigned sleep, all the while identifying one reason after another that Theo and I were not meant to be. The last several months have felt as though we were roommates, not lovers. Were we ever lovers? Though I feel bad about the way I left, I know he’ll be happier someday when he finds the woman he was supposed to be with.
I resist the temptation to check my phone for the hundredth time since I shut it off. But I don’t have to turn it on to know my mother’s tried to call me at least twenty times and has likely sent a string of emails that start out concerned and progress to threatening. My runaway bride status has no doubt spread like wildfire, making her look bad.
“How did I beat my sister here?”
I freeze. It’s doesn’t matter that it’s been ten years. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. It’s the same smooth voice that’s plagued my dreams for years. Jordan Harris. I don’t dare turn around. I haven’t decided if I want him to see me or not. As my pulse races out of control, it’s all I can do to focus on breathing.
“I just got here,” one of the two guys sitting at the pushed together tables says, holding up his hands to emphasize his innocence. “Where’s your girl?”
My heart plummets instantly, dropping into my toes. His girl? I nearly choke on a fry, desperately trying not to attract attention as oxygen leaves my lungs and can’t find its way back in. I really hope I haven’t traveled thousands of miles to find out Jordan has a girlfriend. One he didn’t give me a heads up about by posting about her on his social media. Serenity made sure to check three times.
“I’m single, man,” Jordan announces, sounding happy about it.
The relief is instant and undeserved. The fry goes down, allowing me to breathe again. I chug my Dr. Pepper as my eyes water.
Should I feel happy about this? If I really loved Jordan, wouldn’t I hope he found someone who could love him the way he deserved? Someone whose mother embraced him with open arms instead of threatening to destroy everything he held dear? Shouldn’t I want to find out that he’s married with a couple of kids? So why does that very idea—even ruled out as it already is—make my stomach twist in very jealous knots? Oh yeah. I’ve never stopped loving him and selfishly hope he feels the same.
“Your luck sucks,” the other guy says as Jordan pours himself a beer from the pitcher at the table.
“Tell me about it.”
“Blakely’s really not here yet, huh?” I have to strain my ears to hear the comment. The bartender gives me a strange look, but is interrupted by a customer before he can press. It gives me time to wonder how Jordan’s little sister is doing. I only met her once. Before life became overly complicated. It’s doubtful she’ll be happy to see me, either.
“Newlyweds,” the first guy says in answer.
I daringly sneak what I intend to be a quick peek at Jordan over my shoulder. But when my gaze sweeps over him shrugging out of his coat, I’m like a deer caught in headlights. I’ve seen pictures on social media that hinted he stayed in shape, but I’m not prepared for the ripple of muscles that have definitely filled out in the past decade. His biceps are huge. The thought only reminds me what else of his is huge.
