Colton (The Hadley Series)

By Kelly Mooney

Colton Hadley has everything—except what he truly wants. Beset by overbearing parents and surrounded by sycophantic socialites hoping to sink their claws into his wallet, he longs for someone who wants him for who he is, not what he has. Enter Charlie. She’s smart, beautiful, brave—and homeless. She’s all wrong for him, but Charlie crawls into Colts heart like no woman ever before.

Having run from home to escape an abusive ex, Charlotte Ward just wants a new life...a quiet life...a safe life. She’s off to a bad start when she’s robbed of everything she owns, forcing her to sleep on the porch of an abandoned beach house. Enter the gorgeous next-door neighbor. Charlie doesn’t want to trust him, but Colt is kind, patient, persistent. Before long, she lets down her guard...and opens her heart.

With his parents interfering and her past catching up fast, will Colt and Charlie find their different worlds are too far apart? Or is their love strong enough to prove home is where their hearts reside?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelly Mooney
• Release date: Jun 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311167408

Kelly Mooney

Kelly grew up in Southern New Jersey. She currently resides in Pitssford, NY with her husband and two kids. She developed a love for writing teen romances over the last few years. She has now completed three teen romances in hopes of getting them published. There really is nothing like falling in love for the first time, so this is what she writes. Her second book Never Say Never is the second book she wrote and is now available on Smashwords and Amazon.

Book preview

I wake up with a pounding head and a bottle lying next to me on the cold tile. There’s a little bit left, so I pick it up and kill the rest with a shaky hand. I gulp the harshness of it back, knowing I need to pull myself together. But how? With what? I have nothing.

I tuck the empty bottle behind me and take in the scents, the sounds, and the view. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m not. California beaches are much different from the ones back home in Jersey.

Running my hand through my dirty, knotty long hair, I try my best to fight back the raging headache. It’s always the same-old, same-old, each and every night since I had taken that bus trying to escape my past back in July.

My past sucked. There is no other word I can find to describe it. Well, that’s not true. I felt closer to hell than I wanted to be living with him. Everybody has secrets in their closets that they try to hide; only I was done hiding inside of mine.

It all started a few years ago with a new job in a bar and a few regulars who had always sat in my section. Steven was very nice at first, taking me out on dates, making me homemade meals with candlelight and fine wine on my nights off. I knew it was too soon when he asked me to move in with him, but I had said yes without thinking it through. I was young and dumb, having just graduated from the two-year community college, and he was a way out of my parents’ house. He was my ticket to freedom. I’d been taking care of my dad since I was fourteen years old, so six years later I was itching to escape when Steven asked me to move in with him.

It was only my father and I, since my mother decided she wanted to spend the rest of her days sipping margaritas on some beach in Florida once my dad got sick. My dad let her go without an argument, which was weird enough on its own. I had thought they had this undying love for one another. But what does a fourteen-year-old know? Apparently I hadn’t a clue of what real love even meant.

Especially since Steven’s way of loving me was showing me his fist every once in a while.

It was always the little things that seemed to set him off. Like if I put onions in the salad by accident, or if I placed the toilet paper the wrong way. But I wasn’t going to be that girl. Not anymore. I left after he’d decided to make me his personal punching bag, the day after he raped me on that rainy late July night.

"What is this?" His eyes flicked to my neck.

"What?" I asked as I felt the necklace my grandmother had given me years ago in her will. She was so special to me. I adored her more than anyone. They were all I had left of her and I cherished them.

"I thought I told you that I don’t like you wearing something that I didn’t give you."

I gulped back the fear. I’m sorry, I apologized quickly, knowing how easy he blew up.

"You’re sorry?" he asked me, doubt laced in his fierce tone. His hand grabbed my neck, tightly squeezing the breath out of me.

"I can’t breathe," I squeaked out, watching his murderous eyes latch onto my grandmother’s necklace. I forgot to tuck it under my shirt this morning. His fingers loosened, but I felt them slip under and then the tug came next. Pearls spilled all over the floor as he held the strand between his disgusting fingers.

"You want pearls; I’ll buy them for you, no one else." His hand dropped, letting the remaining beads fall to the ground as he walked away. And I knew by the way he stalked off where he was going—and what he was expecting.

"Now, Charlotte," he yelled as his footsteps on the hardwood floor sounded through our apartment.

"Be right there," I hollered back. Quickly, I gathered the beads up and placed them in a plastic bag and tucked them in my handbag before taking those stairs that led to him—to my personal hell.

I hadn’t even made it in the bedroom when I felt his hand grab ahold of my hair, snaking it around his fist. You will learn to obey me. Get on the bed. He shoved me so hard, it nearly knocked all the wind out of me.

"Take your clothes off." His beady eyes that I once found attractive scanned my face and I saw the pure evil behind them.

"Not tonight. I don’t want to."

"You don’t want to? I think you forget your place, dear Charlotte. Take off your clothes or I’ll beat the shit out of you and then take them off myself."

I started to shake my head, wanting this nightmare to stop, but he was done waiting.

His fist slammed into my face, blood flowing from my nose. Now, Charlotte. My hands immediately cupped my nose, the pain searing through me as I sat there, unable to believe I’d been living like this. That I let this monster do this to me. I was done. I had never thought someone could rock my world to the point I felt like giving up, but he did it, and he did it well. All I could think was, I can’t go on like this. If he wants me, then he’ll have to fuck a corpse.

No.

His lips curled up as though he was hoping I would defy him. I never had before, and part of me thought he kind of liked it. Got off on it. You’re going to regret that, he warned me just before his fist slammed into my stomach so hard, I gasped and fell onto my back unable to breathe.

It was the next hit to my face that knocked me unconscious. The last hit I’d ever take from him.

The sound of people arriving on the beach early in the morning pulls me from my memory. I tuck my legs up and watch as they take their boards and run into the surf like they had every day since I’d found this spot. It isn’t much, but no one knows I’m here. I’d found an unoccupied house that has a For Rent sign. It has a small porch where I do my sleeping at night, only a short, white cement wall that wraps around the entire tiled patio. One bonus is how it backs up right onto the boardwalk. During the day, I walk around, bum for money and hopefully score enough to buy me some food to keep me sane.

I laugh for the first time in what feels like forever thinking about my life and how horrible it has become. People say pride is an honorable trait to have, but I say it can also get you into a heap of trouble too. Add stubborn to the mix and you got yourself a bona fide personal hurricane.

I couldn’t go back to my old home since I was afraid Steven would find me there. So with the money I had saved and what I had stolen from him, I got as far away as possible. It wasn’t much that he had stuffed in that old coffee canister, but it was enough for a one-way ticket and a small, nasty motel for the first few months out here.

Unfortunately, some jackass broke into my shitty place and stole everything I had to live on leaving me broke by September.

Now, it’s just me, and one small pathetic duffel bag of clothes to get by. I’ve tried to find a job, but it’s hard to get hired when you can’t give out an address or phone number. Not to mention I look like hell most days. I used to take pride in my looks, now I’m lucky to wash my hair.

The grumbling of my stomach brings me back to reality. I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon’s hot dog from a convenience store. I need a job, and I need a place to stay if I am going to survive this nightmare. I hope to be able to go home someday, but not until I think Steven has had enough time to forget about me. I had made one phone call to my dad when the bus pulled into a rest stop in Texas, telling him that I had needed a change and was heading south to find myself. That was a lie too. Maybe not total bullshit. I did want a change. I needed a new life.

Once I arrived in California, I broke down and called him and explained the real reason I had run, hoping to find my clarity and strength a few thousand miles from home. He wanted to help, but couldn’t because the medical bills from his illness wiped out his savings and he barely got enough from disability to support himself.

I start to stand and straighten my shirt when I feel someone’s eyes watching me, although that could be my paranoia kicking in again. I turn in every direction, looking to see if I’m busted, but come up empty.

It’s only a heartbeat later when I smell the coffee.

I peer carefully over the concrete ledge on the patio that hides me, scouring the grounds and then see him.

Hey, he calls out, smiling down at me from a second-floor patio next door.

Scared is too simple of a description to understand the feeling that one word does to me, but I can’t let him see or hear how frightened I am. Hey there. I smile back as I look up through the shitty sunglasses that I found on the beach one day. I give him a quick wave, hoping he’ll just go away, but he doesn’t.

I haven’t seen you around before. Is this your place? He gestures to the house I stole. Well, the patio, anyway.

No, it’s a friend of a friend’s. I’m just renting for a few weeks, I say, hoping that abides me enough time for him to go back to wherever it is he came from. I’ve been sleeping here for almost two weeks already and have never seen him before. And if I had, I would definitely recognize him. He looks so damn sexy up on his balcony, shirtless, coffee in hand that smells like a cup of heaven even from down here.

What friend?

Oh, um…you wouldn’t know her. She never comes here.

Try me?

I swallow, trying to figure out if he knows I’m lying but decide it’s best to keep playing our game to try to stay out of jail or some damn homeless shelter. Jennifer.

Jennifer, huh? Well, where is she now? He makes a big show of looking around for her.

Oh, up north in L.A. for a bit. My heart is racing inside my chest as he pummels me with question after question, his expression and a ghost of a smile on his lips making me feel as if he knows.

Where in L.A.? I’m up there a lot for business. Jesus, doesn’t this guy give up?

Not sure exactly. She picked me up from the airport and drove me down before heading back up there. I really didn’t pay attention. Too busy with girl talk and all; periods and stuff.

He snickers at my obvious attempt to get him to go away, but leans his arms on the balcony ledge as he peers down at me from the condo next door. He tilts his head, studying me, and the only thing I can think of is running away and never coming back, but this porch has saved me, sheltered me. So I forge ahead and wait, crossing my arms trying to look as though I belong here and that he doesn’t frighten me.

You like being outside a lot, huh? He points to my small duffel bag.

Oh, shit! What can I say? I love the view.

Yeah. He smiles bigger and fixes his eyes on the beach. It is a hell of a nice view.

It is, I agree. Anyway, I got to get going. Cautiously, I watch him to make sure he’s not paying attention to me and kick my empty bottle under the wooden chair behind me.

You going for a walk?

Yep. Gotta go. I start to make my move, but his smooth, very masculine voice stops me.

You want company? Do I want company? Is he serious?

I look up, unable to see him anymore, but then out of nowhere he’s standing right directly in front of me a minute later. All six feet of him, and with the way the sun has risen, it gives him this crazy radiant glow that I can’t seem to pull my eyes from. As much as I would like to say yes to this ridiculously handsome man with a Southern accent, an accent that has me second-guessing not taking that bus south instead of west, I can’t go down that road. I’m actually meeting someone.

That’s a shame. How about later? You want to come and have a drink on my deck to watch the sunset?

I don’t really drink.

He looks behind me with one eyebrow cocked, and I know before I even turn he’s looking at the small bottle of rum I drank the night before. The one I thought I hid well enough from his neighborly intrusion. He wiggles his eyebrows; a small smile escapes his perfectly shaped lips. It looks like you do. Look, never mind. I get it. I’ll see you around.

And then he’s gone just as quickly as he appeared. I stare at the steps that lead to his place and think about following him but quickly conclude that it will never happen.

Reluctantly, I head off down the boards for another shit day of begging for money to get by on, but on the bright side it’s a beautiful day out, so I focus on that.

The very next night, I’m sitting and trying to hide behind the half wall that hides most of the patio from the beachgoers when I hear his voice trailing down to me. Drinking alone again, I see.

It’s not what you think. For some reason, I want to share with him why I am drinking alone, but I stop myself. The alcohol helps me sleep at night. It takes my fear level down a notch when I actually get a few hours in.

And what am I thinking? Besides the fact that you don’t seem to want to have a drink with me? You know what they say about drinking alone, don’t ya?

I just like to sit out here and watch the ocean in peace—think about life.

Yeah, I never see you down there though, his gaze moves toward the water before slamming back into me, or go inside your place.

I don’t like the sand; it gets in my hair and it’s crazy hard to get it out even with shampoo.

I see your point. He grins, and I know my hair is a matted mess full of those damn little grains of sand.

Okay, I need to pretend this place is mine. I stand and make my way to the patio door and pull the handle, praying an alarm doesn’t go off.

Let me guess. It’s locked? he muses from above.

I sigh in frustration. Yeah, I’ll just go around front. Good to see you again.

You too, he says with a small chuckle.

Bastard!

The next morning I wake to find a cup of coffee and a muffin sitting on the ledge of my concrete barrier with a yellow Post-it note attached. Please eat and drink me.

My stomach is yelling at me to take up the generous offer, but at the same time I am deathly afraid of making myself known, thinking he knows that I’m staying here illegally or worse he knows that I’m homeless. And that someone is most likely my six-foot hunk of a neighbor next door.

Half of me is mad as hell for not hearing him get so close; the other half is embarrassed that he saw me like this. My belly grumbles again, and my headache starts to progress to the feeling of a thousand eighteen-wheelers rolling through on a trucker parade from my hunger and the small amount of booze that helped lull me to sleep the night before.

I peek out of the side of the patio and creep the several feet, inhaling the aroma as my body moves toward the ledge. As fast as lightning I grab the coffee and the muffin and walk away, knowing that I need to find a new spot to camp out for the night, if not permanently. The last thing I need in my life right now is more complications, and if I stick around, he will be a huge one to add to my already growing list.

The mid-September sun is warm during the day but as the night comes, the chill of the air comes with it. I notice after the long day of walking the boards, it’s a little colder out than it has been. After several attempts to locate a place to sleep, I find myself at a church that takes in the homeless. I don’t want to do it because I know once I sleep here, I’ll be considered one of them, and that thought frightens me. The fact that my life has become completely unrecognizable has me fearing how I’m going to survive without a little help. But, at this point what other choice do I have?

After the second night of sharing space with complete and somewhat creepy strangers who frighten me, I crave my little space of heaven I had before. The same men and women come through both nights, waiting to be fed, to be given a cot to sleep on, just as I do. It’s hard not to scrutinize myself, and what I’ve let my life become. But, in my heart of hearts, my mind knows that this is just a step. One of many to get myself the new and better life that I crave.

It’s morning, and the good priest is holding mass. I’m a Christian, born and raised, but I lost faith somewhere along the way and was hoping to find it in today’s services. Except when the offering plate comes around, and my greedy hand takes a five-dollar bill off of it, I know I have hit what they call rock bottom. I am stealing from a church to buy myself something better than the bland oatmeal they served earlier. If I wasn’t going to hell before, I’m pretty sure this one locks and loads my welcoming party down there.

Father, I say as I approach him outside after mass, the bells ringing loudly from above. I slip my hand inside my pocket and pull out the money I had stolen, feeling so ashamed of myself. This belongs to you. I’m sorry I took it. I was desperate.

Would you like to come inside and talk? Sometimes someone listening can heal even the saddest, neediest of people.

No, thank you. I have to go. I just wanted to give it back.

He smiles gently and stares at the money for a second before tucking it back in my hand with a blessing. Be safe child.

It has been three days since she took off and three days since I’ve been thinking a quick visit to the looney bin might be in order. Normal, don’t-give-a-fuck Colt has disappeared and