Watch Over Her (Only Her Series Book 1) Read online

  Watch Over Her

  Olivia Stephen

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 by Olivia Stephen

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are either the products 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.

  Editing by Jenn Wood

  Formatting by Jessica Ames

  Cover Design by Alexandra Davis of Alexandra Designs & Alexander Beeman

  Cover Model: Lawren Beeman

  Cover image copyright © 2018

  Imprint: Independently published

  To my husband

  My champion, my once in a lifetime

  The one who never let me give up on pursuing my dream.

  To my two amazing children

  I couldn’t be any prouder of the wonderful young adults you’ve become.

  Prologue

  It would be helpful, considerate really, if life would let you know ahead of time when you were about to experience one of those life-altering events. One of those moments that would irrevocably change your world in the blink of an eye. Sort of give you a heads up, or a small glimpse into your day, if you will, so you could be mentally and emotionally prepared for what was about to happen.

  Life isn’t that kind.

  Donning my best black dress, I sit here in my dad’s favorite chair, attempting to drink a glass of wine, and contemplate my decision. My heart swells with a sea of tears. Do I remain here and drink away my reality, or drive myself to my parents’ funeral?

  The funeral.

  My life-altering event.

  The one I had no idea was coming.

  Blindsided.

  I think a breakdown would be perfectly acceptable considering the circumstances I’m faced with right now. At twenty-two, burying both of my parents after they were killed in a car accident constitutes a bit of a mental lapse, don’t you think? I mean, who would really blame me?

  After a few more minutes of nothingness pass, I sluggishly drag myself out of Dad’s chair. I have to do this. I’ll do it for them. To be the respectful young lady they taught me to be.

  I reach the sink, pouring out the contents of my glass. My stomach remains empty from days without nourishment. The wine glass slips out of my shaking hands and crashes to the floor, shattering. Just like my heart.

  Making my way to the front door, I catch a glimpse of my image in the mirror above the small stand near the doorway where I keep my keys. Vacant, red, and swollen eyes stare back at me. Empty. Desolate. Hopeless.

  I will struggle through this day, one second, one minute, one hour at a time. And then I will come home and succumb to the emptiness that permeates not only this house but also my soul.

  I am alone.

  Chapter One

  Raina

  Two Years Later...

  It’s not that I don’t want to go to the pub tonight. Honestly, it’s not. But here I am, pacing back and forth in my apartment, debating on whether I should hang out with friends tonight or just stay put. I know, without a doubt, he will be there.

  Zane. God, that man.

  Zane is the gorgeous, brooding man who tends bar at the pub that we hit at the end of the really stressful weeks. He started working at Sam's Pub around the same time I moved to town, about eight months ago, and he's definitely intriguing. His smile never quite connects to his mysterious eyes; it’s one that speaks of a hard life. Distant and disconnected. But still, it’s a beautiful smile, and there’s a part of me that would love to know his story.

  He rocks a hard, strong body and hair that falls just so. Styled, but then again not. His perfectly chiseled jaw accentuates his face, and it’s so easy for me to get lost in those serious, beautifully-colored, Caribbean blue eyes. His skin isn’t covered in tattoos, but I have noticed a few when he wears a short-sleeved tee. It looks like one may be a name and a date, which makes me curious.

  And when this man walks into the bar, his presence commands the room, and every girl in the place melts just a little. Especially me.

  I’ve tried, on several occasions, to engage in some kind of conversation with him, yet he always remains distant and quiet. A simple “’Here you go, darlin’”, as he hands me my drink, is about the only form of verbal communication between the two of us. Interestingly, I often catch him staring at me when he isn’t busy pouring the newest tap beer or mixing some alcohol-laden drink for one of the local residents who frequent Sam’s Pub. Maybe it’s just a hook-up or a one-night stand kind of look, which so isn’t me. Or perhaps it’s something else entirely. Either way, frustrating is what it is.

  So even as I continue to get ready to meet my few friends from school, swiping my lips with light pink gloss and brushing a light coat of blush on my cheeks, I make every excuse I can think of to stay home, but come up empty.

  I drive off to the pub, resigned not to let him get to me tonight. I’ll have Sarah, my best friend, hit the bar for our drinks while I stay rooted in my seat. I will not swing my eyes towards the handsome bartender in the hopes of catching his stunning blue ones looking my way. I’ll have a drink or two then head home to my small, cozy apartment. It’s the one I fell in love with when I moved to this town after the death of my parents two years ago, which left me to pick up the pieces of my life totally alone.

  Sarah and I arrive at the same time, and we walk in through the heavy door, out of the cool night air. A different bartender stands behind the large wooden bar tonight, and I breathe a sigh of relief, though I can’t help but also feel somewhat disappointed. My brooding, serious, bartender is nowhere to be found.

  Shrugging off the disappointment, I head to the group of tables where the gang is fully immersed in a round of drinks. It’s common to have live music at the pub on Friday or Saturday evenings, and the sweet sound of acoustic music can be heard coming from the amplifiers by the small elevated stage. The two men on stage, plucking their guitars and singing into the microphones, are frequent guests here, and we all enjoy their music. They are really good, and I’ve always felt they're wasting their time here at the pub. They have the talent, and the looks, to take their show on the road and make it big.

  But alas, here they are, crooning their cover songs, sounding melodic and perfectly in tune. Actually, for a night out, to have a few drinks and talk with friends, it is perfect.

  Chapter Two

  Zane

&nb
sp; My patience is just about at my limit as I go about getting ready to head to the pub. I don’t get many nights off from the bar, so really, I’d just rather stay home. I’m getting very little sleep and I’ve been thinking a great deal about my brother. It’s making me tenser than I usually am.

  So right now, I’m going through the motions, grabbing and putting on clean jeans and whatever unwrinkled shirt I can find. I snag a bottled water and my keys as I head out to the bar.

  Friday nights are a big night for the weekday nine-to-fivers, and since Raina is a teacher, I know for certain that she and her friends will be there. Some nights, she comes in with her friend, Sarah, and I often watch her as she rolls her neck, breathing deeply, in hopes of releasing some kind of tension. She obviously takes her teaching very seriously and wants to do her best for her students. It makes me wish I could do something to make her life easier, less tense, but all I would do is just create more problems.

  As I unlock my car, I stop myself for a moment. I’ve been catching myself thinking about her far too often and I really need to stop. Nothing can happen with her even though I wish it could. Raina's truly an amazing woman, which makes it difficult to keep my distance. She has such a beautiful soul, I can tell, which is second only to her amazing smile. She’s obviously a wonderful friend to Sarah, and I’m certain she loves the students she teaches. Even though her smile doesn’t always reach her eyes, she has an air about her that radiates when she walks into a room.

  And she’s most definitely easy on the eye as well. Her contagious laugh, not to mention that gorgeous body, with curves in all the right places, and long, deep brown hair that frames her smiling face, makes her the sexiest woman I know. And sexy in such an unintentional way; she doesn’t even have to try. Her genuine smile and the unassuming way she walks into a room makes me hard just watching her. If there has ever been a perfect woman created, it’s Raina. Stunning on the outside, but most importantly, a beautiful heart.

  As hard as it is to be around her sometimes, I know moving here from Raleigh was the right thing to do. But letting Raina into my life would be a disaster of the most epic kind. I could never have a relationship with her. Never.

  My thoughts linger on her and the fact that I'm only supposed to simply watch her from a distance. I promised my brother that's what I would do. And that right there has become the biggest test of my patience.

  The short drive to the bar doesn’t give me a whole lot of time to do much thinking. Which, in reality, is a good thing. I figure I'll just hang at the bar with Sam, the owner, for a couple hours, keep an eye on Raina, then head back home.

  I pull into my assigned parking space in the parking lot of the pub. Getting out of the car, I see Tira running up to me. I stop and close my eyes, shaking my head.

  Why is she here on my night off? I can't catch a break.

  And she can’t seem to catch the hint. I'm not interested. She’s nice looking for sure, but she irritates the shit out of me with her whining and her attitude. She’s about as mean as they come when she’s around other women at the bar. It's like she’s competing with them for my attention.

  Now, it seems, this night can't be over fast enough.

  Chapter Three

  Raina

  I don’t even see him come in the door of the bar. I feel it. I feel that intense gaze and the heat. The dynamics of this place actually change when he’s here. My eyes stay glued to my drink as the warmth in my face grows, causing my cheeks to turn even pinker than the blush I’d applied an hour earlier.

  Sarah figures it out instantly and chuckles to herself. She’s very well aware of the brooding bartender and the way his ocean blue eyes zero in on me when he thinks I’m not looking. She often encourages me to just let loose and “Tap that,” as she puts it.

  My eyes are drawn to that man like a moth to a flame. It’s as though I have no choice but to look, so, without even consciously thinking about it, I steal a quick glance, and I am once again captivated by the strong man looking directly at me. His eyes connect to mine, speak to mine, somehow making me believe that he can see into my very soul. Worn and frayed jeans that hang low on his hips, and a dark blue Henley that clings to his muscles adorn a well over six-foot-tall body. He is magnificently handsome tonight.

  I see his stern face, and draw in a quick breath, hoping I can recover before he notices. There is interest in his eyes, but just as I catch that, he looks away. I think about the phrase, our eyes meet across a crowded room, and consider how amusingly appropriate it is for this moment.

  It’s then, shortly after that clichéd thought, I notice he isn’t alone. And my heart sinks.

  Standing next to Zane, in all her glory, is Tira, who waitresses here at Sam’s Pub. She is beautiful, that exotic, model type of beauty. Worldly and eccentric. I wonder why she’s working in a pub in small-town North Carolina instead of strutting on some runway in Milan or Paris. That’s how beautiful she is.

  However, her beauty is outward only. She is a bitch, at best, and can probably give Satan himself a run for his money. I hate that she notices me looking at Zane. A smirk falls across those ruby red lips of hers and makes me feel like crawling inward and never coming out again. She quickly grabs on to Zane's arm, resting her head near his shoulder. I knew I shouldn’t have come here tonight.

  Sarah rolls her eyes. “Don’t let that bother you. I’m here often enough and I know they’re just friends.”

  “That glare of hers tells me something completely different,” I reply.

  “In her dreams. She sleeps around with every bartender here. Probably every bartender in every bar in this town and the next one over, and yet, I’ve never seen him leave with her. You need to put on the big girl panties and ask him out.” She says it so nonchalantly it’s almost laughable.

  Ask him out. I briefly let that thought swim around in my head. Ask him out? As if. How in the world does a 24-year-old virgin go after a man…no, a Greek god, who has a Greek goddess hanging on his arm? Especially when I look like this? Not that I’m horrid looking. I’m average at best. I eat fairly well, and hit the gym or go for a long power walk when the urge hits me. I have long brunette hair, dark brown eyes, and through the magic of online tutorials and videos, I’m getting a great deal more comfortable with applying the little bit of make-up I do use. But, five-foot-five and 125 pounds is nothing compared to five-foot-nine and 110.

  “Stop. I know what you’re doing.”

  Yes, she does. Sarah knows how insecure I can be, but she also knows how much my confidence is growing. A few years ago, my ex up and left me without ever looking back. I became so self-conscious, wondering what it was about me that would cause him to fall into the arms of an older woman and take off with her. Sarah still gets pissed when I bring it up. I've never had an over-abundance of self-confidence any time in my life, and all the crap with my ex-boyfriend really took its toll.

  “I know, and I’m fine,” I whisper. “It isn’t like he and I have ever dated. Or even had a conversation that extended beyond a few words. But it’s like there’s this pull toward him. I don’t get it, Sarah. He’s the last guy I should ever get involved with, and the fact that he can’t even speak more than five words to me should be a big, red, waving flag. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing even imagining being with him.”

  At that moment, Tira begins dragging him over to our table to say hello to the group with her sickeningly sweet voice and fake smile. I know what she’s doing, staking her claim. Her hands never leave his arm. I do smile, though, when I see him pull away from her at the last minute before reaching us. Before anyone can say a word, I excuse myself to the restroom.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, and quickly make my exit, Sarah right on my heels.

  There are some things I don’t want to witness, and Zane with Tira is one of them.

  I swing the bathroom door open and take a deep breath as I stand near the sink.

  “What the hell, Raina?”

  “I need a minu
te. Give me a minute to get it together.”

  “One minute. Then we’re going back out there,” she says, waving her finger, nearly poking me in the chest. “The tension between you two is so thick, and it’s about time one of you did something about it. If I had to make a guess, I think that someone needs to be you.”

  Tell me how you really feel, Sarah. Don’t hold back on my account.

  She’s right, though. I know for sure he won’t initiate anything between us, because it’s been months and he hasn’t made any kind of move. But, could I do this? Could I put myself out there? Try again? All my life, people I’ve loved have left me, in one way or another. My grandparents are gone, my parents died in a horrific accident. Then, of course, there’s the ex. Always imagining my happily ever after with him was one humongous mistake. There are no happily-ever-afters anyway.

  Zane certainly doesn’t scream “available” to me. Maybe he’s just really shy, but I chuckle to myself. Shy is not a word anyone would use to describe Zane. Serious, moody, stoic, unsettled, hot, I rattle off quickly in my head. Those words fit. Shy? Not so much.

  Sarah leaves the bathroom first. I follow behind her, stopping short when a very distraught Zane looms in front of me. His piercing stare feels as if he could devour me in a heartbeat, and I’m not sure what to think or how to feel in that moment. Of course, I decide maybe right now is the time to put myself out there.