Making Her Mine (Rowdy Brothers Book 1) Read online

  Making Her Mine

  Rowdy Brothers

  Book 1

  Glenna Maynard

  Making Her Mine Copyright © 2018 Glenna Maynard

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.

  Dedication

  To true love and getting rowdy.

  Acknowledgements

  To my Rebels & Devils- your support means the world to me. Thank you for loving my stories as much as I do.

  Jenna, you are a gem and I adore you and your friendship.

  Thank you, Mary for pushing me to revise my blurb until it had that feeling of the one.

  To Dawn and Morgan, my cheerleaders, who always have my back and refuse to let me quit—I love you.

  To my family, thank you for not complaining about all my time at my desk. I love you. I write for you.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Blurb

  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

  About Glenna

  Books By Glenna

  Blurb

  Things are about to get Rowdy in Texas.

  Running never solves anything but it’s exactly what I need.

  A new start.

  A new life.

  Far away from my loser ex-boyfriend.

  I don’t need a man.

  Only that idea fades quickly when I run fast and hard into the arms of the Rowdy brothers. Two men who make it hard to resist their southern charm.

  One brother wants to use me, but the other wants to love me.

  He wants to make me his.

  I’m not looking for my forever. I only want to get rowdy.

  Who do I choose?

  Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now…

  Chapter 1

  Hattie Mae

  Walking into the bathroom at the lawyer’s office, I’m nervous. I double check my teeth for lipstick stains and smooth my hands over my hips. The secretary was vague on the phone, only stating it was imperative I meet with Mr. Finnigan before he left town.

  Taking a deep breath, I exit the bathroom and approach the receptionist.

  The clacking of fingers stroking the keyboard comes to a halt. “Can I help you?”

  “Hattie Hatfield. I have an appointment with Mr. Finnigan.” I smile, hoping I won’t have to shake hands with anyone. My palms are sweating something fierce.

  “Have a seat. He’ll call you back in a few.”

  The clacking ensues, and I let out a breath.

  I go over to the nearest chair and pick up a magazine from the table as I sit.

  Flipping through the pages, I try not to think of the last few weeks. However, the images of the happy couples has me wondering where things went wrong in my own relationship.

  Two people embracing in the kitchen. In the background a puddle of spilled milk on the floor. A cheesy line about the strength of the paper towels being as strong as their relationship.

  The pages of the magazine crumple in my grip as I think about all the late nights Justin has been working. The lies he has been telling rolling off his tongue smooth like honey. The tense way he watches me as though something is on his mind.

  Fear holds me back from asking the questions that have been keeping me up at night.

  The inability to fix whatever is broken between us is crushing me. He’s my best friend. My person—the one who has always promised to love me, but lately he barely kisses my cheek. We’re strangers passing in the hallway. Two people who share a responsibility of rent and utilities.

  Nothing I attempt seems to be enough.

  I don’t know how to get us back to good. Back to the place where we stay up too late watching movies and fooling around while planning our future. The house we want to buy in the suburbs when we get married…when we have kids…

  I have a sinking feeling we will never obtain those dreams now. They seem like fleeting memories of a different life.

  “Miss Hatfield, Mr. Finnigan will see you now.”

  “Oh, okay.” I let out a soothing breath and attempt to smooth out the crinkled pages.

  The secretary holds the door open for me and announces my entrance. It all seems so formal.

  “Thank you for agreeing to come in on such short notice. May I call you Hattie?” The older man who appears to be in his late 50s warmly greets me.

  “Sure.” I return his smile.

  His hand extends toward the chair opposite his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

  “I don’t want to sound rude, but what’s this all about?” I get right to the point. I am eager to pick up Justin’s favorite for dinner and actually spend some time together. I was able to get one of the girls from work to switch shifts with me, so I can surprise my man.

  “Not at all. You probably don’t remember me, but I was a friend of your father’s.”

  “My father?” I know my tone sounds accusing but I haven’t spoken to him since I was like three.

  “Yes, we went to high school together. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  “Okay…” I hedge.

  “Your father passed away two weeks ago.”

  “Oh. I…and?” I know I must be coming off cold and unfeeling to this man, but my father cheated on my mother and she packed me up and moved here. Not one card not even a phone call for any holidays or my birthday did I receive from him. Nothing. Nada. He was my sperm donor and nothing more. I never knew him.

  “The reason I asked you here is he left you his estate. Albeit he didn’t leave you much but in this envelope is the deed to his trailer and his truck. There’s a key to a safety deposit box too.”

  “I don’t want it, sell it off or something.”

  “His last request was that you be the one to clean out his trailer. He wants you to spend time there, make it your own.” I make a face, squishing my lips up toward my nose.

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  “I don’t know but it is his last request.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, his remains. He was cremated and wishes you to spread his ashes, but I am afraid he didn’t say where. His Will said you’d know if you do as he wished.”

  “Uh huh. So, my nonexistent father wants me to oblige him in his death when he couldn’t be bothered to see me, not ever. He couldn’t even pick up a phone for me. Great.” I snatch the envelope from his desk and thank Mr. Finnigan for his time.

  I don’t know what to think but right now I shove my father to the back of my mind and accept the urn containing his ashes. What am I to do with his ashes? Do I sit him on a shelf and pretend it’s a vase?

  I don’t know.

  When I get to my car I let out a shaky breath and tears burn in my eyes. I don’t know why I’m sad. How can I mourn a man I never knew? Anger ripples through me at his demands. Why me? Didn’t he have anyone else? Another family? A wife?
r />   As I sit in my car, I think about calling my mom to tell her the news, not that she would care. We haven’t spoken since I moved out at the age of sixteen.

  It sounds pathetic that I don’t have anyone to tell other than Justin.

  My mother warned me not to make him my world. Said it would bite me on the ass someday when I packed up my things and moved in with him. I don’t have it in me to hear I told you so. Not from her. Not today. My relationship is failing, and my father is dead. I don’t want to be an adult right now. I want to push all the bullshit aside and feel Justin’s arms around me. I need for us to be okay even if it is a lie. Just for tonight I need him to pretend he still loves me.

  Wiping my eyes, I pull it together and put my father’s ashes in the passenger seat, strapping the urn that holds his remains in like a damn passenger.

  I will deal with him later.

  After picking up the takeout I head home. The whole drive to our apartment complex I feel as if there is a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it’s the scent of food filling the car.

  I crack my window.

  I need air.

  I don’t feel so hot.

  It’s probably the fact that my father’s ashes are riding shotgun.

  When I pull into the parking lot I argue with myself about what to do with the urn.

  I stare at the silver encasing. “What am I to do with you, huh?” I unhook the seat belt and place it in my shoulder bag. Then I grab Justin’s pasta from the backseat.

  As I am climbing the stairs to the second-floor landing, I can hear laughter and murmurs. I hope to be enjoying my evening much like the couple making the noise. I don’t want to think about the dead man I am carrying around in my tote bag.

  When I get to the landing for my floor, I don’t know what hits the ground first—my jaw or the takeout.

  My breath catches in my throat and my voice shrinks into an inaudible squeal.

  Justin is lip locked with some skank from his office but hearing the food splattering on my shoes and my squeak they turn to face me. Shock colors his face. His dark brown eyes look like two big chocolate cookies as he stares at me.

  “Hattie, I thought you were working?”

  “Surprise…,” I mumble, torn between running or confronting him. Bile lurches in the pit of my stomach, fighting its way up my throat.

  “We should talk,” he states plainly.

  “I can’t do this right now, Justin. Not today,” I croak.

  “Hattie, we both know we’ve been over for a long time now.”

  The man with him shifts awkwardly on his feet. “I’m gonna go.”

  “Yeah you should go,” I grit through my teeth as I step out of my alfredo covered heels.

  “Call me later, Justin.” He has the nerve to smile at him as he wipes his lips.

  I snap out of my grief, shifting all my anger to him, even though deep down I know I’m not mad at this dude. He’s an easy target. I hit him in the head with my shoe, repeatedly, screaming, “Whore. Skank. Office slut,” until Justin pulls me off him. He’s lucky I didn’t put an eye out or stab him in the balls.

  The man runs off laughing and I don’t feel any better. I’m angry at Justin, his skank, my dad…but mostly I’m mad at myself.

  I’m mad at myself for being so stupid. The signs have been right in my face for months, but I kept ignoring them and making excuses for Justin’s behavior. It’s like he wanted to get caught.

  Maybe he did.

  Reluctantly, I follow him inside of our apartment that we have shared since I moved out of my mom’s place.

  Only right now it doesn’t feel much like home.

  “Listen, to me, Hattie. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry, Justin! Are you shitting me right now?! You know what—I don’t need this. Not from you.” I walk through the apartment and go down on my knees to pull a bag out from under the bed. Sinking down behind me he attempts to hug me but it’s too little too late.

  Pushing him away, I refuse to cry. He doesn’t get any more of my tears. The one constant I have had in my life was his love and now he’s ripped that away from me with a weak temptation.

  I start shoving my clothes in the bag not really caring what I’m grabbing. Nothing really matters right now except for getting out of here and far away from him. I can’t look at him right now. It hurts too much. The sting of his betrayal is a knife twisting deep in my heart and splintering it permanently in two pieces.

  I head into the bathroom as Justin watches idly from the hallway. “What are you doing, Hattie? Where will you go?”

  “Why do you care? You sure as shit didn’t care where I was while you were fucking that skank behind my back.” I toss my toiletries on the top of the bag and zip it up. Time to wrap this up. Years of my life wasted on a future he never planned to give me.

  He places a hand on my wrist as I try to move past him. “Can you stop? Let’s discuss this like adults. You don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “That’s nice. That’s perfect, Justin. I don’t need your pity. I’m not your charity case. I was your girlfriend. The woman you said you wanted to marry.” I take my engagement ring off and fling it at him. He can give it to his skank. He stares at me open mouthed like a damn fish out of water. “You know what, before I got home today do you know where I was. Before I stopped to get your favorite from Roma’s. I was at a law office picking up my father’s ashes while you were twisting your knife in my back.”

  His face pales and he swallows hard, rubbing a hand through his blond spiky hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You know why you didn’t know? It’s because you were too caught up in your fling, but you know what…” I throw my hand out and make my way into the living room, scanning the shelves and walls. I look at the pictures of our life together realizing it was all just a lie and I don’t need any reminders. “It doesn’t matter because if you cared about me even a shred of the amount that I’ve loved you, you would have never cheated. You would have been honest with me. But you couldn’t because you can’t even be honest with yourself. Piece of advice. Quit your shit job that you hate and pursue your art. You no longer have a wedding to save for. You’re great at creating illusions.” I stab my keys down the canvas of the painting he did for me of the two of us. With that, I make my exit, picking up my shoulder bag containing my father’s ashes, and I walk out the door as Justin watches without a word.

  I make it to my car without breaking down.

  It isn’t until I have been driving aimlessly for an hour and stop to get gas that it all hits me.

  That father I never knew is dead and gone. The boyfriend I have held with such high regard was nothing but a cheating snake.

  I wouldn’t know a real man if he walked up and kissed me right now. But if I am being honest with myself my relationship with Justin has been dead for a long time. We grew apart two years ago when we had a pregnancy scare. If anything, I feel like I lost my best friend and that hurts the most.

  I sit at the pumps and the tears keep threatening to fall but they don’t. Images of Justin’s betrayal play on a loop inside my head. Flickering from one image to the next. His mouth on his. Hot and needy. His fists in his hair. Strong and possessive, full of a passion he once felt for me. The food I had recently picked up from his favorite restaurant hitting the pavement and splattering on my shoes, much like my heart exploding in my chest.

  Why couldn’t he have been honest with me? The fact that he went behind my back is what hurts more than the fact that he cheated. I loved him. I loved him more than myself and that’s a dangerous love. My mom warned me. Said it was why she could never be with my father. She loved him too much. She loved him enough to let him go. She walked away. Ripped our family apart because he didn’t love her enough.

  I once asked her why she couldn’t love them both enough for me. She didn’t answer. She picked up her wine bottle and drank like she did every night.

  I don’
t want that kind of regret.

  I don’t want that heavy of a heart.

  A substantial weight presses on my lungs as I relive the moment in my mind. Memories of what I assumed we had try to flood my thoughts.

  The day he said I love you for the first time.

  The way he’d hold me when I would be upset about my mom and her drinking.

  I always felt so safe in his arms.

  More memories bang on the door of my heart. Wanting me to fight. A beautiful and dark war wages inside me but I can’t let the memories win. There is no love left between us that is left to go to battle for.

  I hold those thoughts at bay, the ones burning for me to go back and say I didn’t mean any of what I said, and I can forgive him. Maybe I could forgive but I would never be able to forget. I pull out the deed to my father’s trailer. “Wild Horse Acres, Deadman’s Drop, Texas,” I read the address aloud to myself.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I roll down my windows, turn up the radio as I leave my old life behind, and head for my new beginning.

  I don’t know what my father left behind for me in Texas but now is as good as time as any to find out.

  Fuck Justin.

  I don’t need him and he sure as hell don’t need me.

  I need a new start.

  A new life.

  I want to be someone who isn’t me.

  Chapter 2

  Hattie Mae

  Two days later I pull up to a security gate with a guard shack. The iron gate has a horse design cut out in the middle.

  A hand painted sign to the left reads Wild Horse Acres.

  This must be the place.

  A heavyset man wearing a security uniform armed with a clipboard approaches my window. “Miss, can I help you?”

  “Um, I hope so. I’m here to um to oversee my father’s affairs. Mr. Hatfield.”

  “We’ve been expecting you. You must be Hattie Mae. Your old man talked about you all the time.”

  I balk at his lie. He must not have known my father well. He couldn’t have had anything to say about me. The man never knew me.

  “Just need to see your identification. If you plan on staying a bit, I can give you the passcode for the gate.”