Second Chance (Chances #2) Read online

  By BJ Harvey

  Second Chance (Chances #2)

  Copyright © 2018 by BJ Harvey

  Edited by

  Lauren Clarke

  Cover Design by

  BJ Harvey

  Cover photo sourced from

  www.depositphotos.com

  Interior Formatting:

  Integrity Formatting

  ISBN: Epub - 978-0-473-39784-5

  ISBN: Mobi - 978-0-473-39783-8

  ISBN: Paperback - 978-0-473-42421-3

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  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

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Grabbing life by the short and curlies is usually my deal. It’s not the deal of the man kneeling at my feet, a black velvet box in his hand with the platinum ring inside almost as bright as the diamond it holds. He’s the cool, calm, and collected one. The ‘take it easy so Gaby doesn’t freak out’ one. He’s not a man I thought would ever do this.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  He looks up from where he kneels, his sly grin making my heart stop. “Living in the moment, Gabs.”

  Bruno is a one-of-a-kind guy, a once-in-a-lifetime chance any woman shouldn’t—and wouldn’t—give up. But I’m not any woman and in this one move he’s taking the poker hand that is me, disregarding the odds, doubling down, and going all in.

  Three hours ago, I was comfortable. I had nothing to worry about beyond the orgasm I was chasing.

  Looking into his gorgeous eyes, the ones that are normally both soft and intense, they’re now fierce, tinged with a sliver of uncertainty. His jaw is tense; his body is wired.

  How did I get to this point, and how did I not see it coming? Things have been good—fucking brilliant, actually—but this development was never on the cards. Why did he have to go and ruin a good thing?

  “Bruno . . .” I say, my voice a hushed whisper. I don’t want to do this here. In fact, I don’t want do this at all. I got close once and vowed never to again. Not just with Bruno, but with anyone.

  “Gaby, this is me telling you I wanna be the last man you’ll ever want and need. This is me telling the world that I love you and want my ring on your finger and yours on mine.”

  I look up, scanning the room for Kenzie who’s standing off to the side. Her eyes are glued on me, her hand covering her mouth. I silently plead with her, hoping she’ll save me from making this into a scene no one wants to see—one where I break a man’s heart and cut him off at the knees with a rejection we can never come back from.

  She shakes her head ever so slightly. I read it straight away. My heart pounds, my lungs seize, and my throat tightens until it’s damn near shut. I can’t do this here. I can’t do this anywhere, but definitely not in front of all of my family and friends.

  My entire body is shaking and to anyone else, I’m sure it looks like I’m simply overcome with emotion. I am, just not the right one for this moment.

  Reaching out, Bruno takes my right hand and laces his fingers with mine, his pleading eyes boring into me.

  It must seem inevitable.

  Surprise party? Check.

  Family, friends—everyone close to us? Check.

  The man I’m living with? Check.

  The man I love pledging his life to me? Apparently so.

  But despite the deafening silence in the room, every cell in my body is screaming at me to run and hide.

  Then, as if in a moment of clarity, I hatch an escape plan, a way to save face and shield Bruno from the humiliation of a no when the only answer he wants to hear is a yes.

  I’ll explain later, when we’re at home and alone and I can make him understand that everything is fine between us without that.

  With one last glance at Kenz, I look down at Bruno.

  I swallow hard, suffocating on the word threatening to catch in my throat. I hope he forgives me for this. He has to.

  “Yes.” My voice is a rough whisper. His expression morphs into one of pure, unadulterated joy.

  Amongst a roar of cheers and applause, he launches to his feet. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me up, swinging my body from side to side before crashing his lips to mine and kissing the living shit out of me. I kiss him back, holding on tight and pouring everything I have into it. It’s all I can do in the moment—give him whatever I can so that when all is said and done, after I’ve ripped his heart out and stomped all over it, there’ll be a slim chance he’ll still believe me when I say I love him.

  When I tell him I can’t possibly marry him, but still want to be with him.

  Stranger things have happened, right?

  He lowers me down to my feet, grabbing hold of my hand and sliding the diamond ring onto my finger. It’s stunning, and despite resenting the institution of marriage, there’s no way I can deny the beauty of his gift.

  It’s just not for me.

  My eyes burn with unshed tears as he puts his thumb under my chin and gently tilts my gaze to meet his. I register an unrecognizable female voice behind me. “I’m looking for Bruno Duncan.”

  Bruno goes impossibly still, his attention locked over my shoulder.

  I try to turn around to see what’s going on but his arms shoot out, his hands framing my shoulders. “Gaby, whatever’s about to happen, promise me you’ll let me explain,” he says roughly, his voice laced with a desperation I’ve never heard from him—or anyone—before.

  “What’s going—”

  “No! I’m not going until I speak to him,” the woman shouts.

  I step out of Bruno’s reach and spin around just as the man himself moves past me and walks over to the front door and a stunning blonde woman. She’s not anyone I’ve seen before. She’s dressed nicely, her gold hair tied up in a high ponytail, her face perfectly made up. But she’s definitely not someone invited to the party. Not going by the way she’s dressed anyway. One hand is on her hip, and the other is gesticulating in the air to Millen, whose lips are moving but his words are not registering with me.

  Bruno stops in front of them, his shoulders pulled back, and even from twenty feet away I can see he’s on alert. The blonde waves her arm toward me, and as much as I’d love to walk towards them, my lead feet would make that impossible right now.

  Kenzie moves to my side and wraps an arm around my waist, having my back, si
de, and front, as always. “Who’s that?”

  “You tell me and we’ll both know,” I mutter.

  “You have to leave, Tate. This is a private event,” Bruno says, his voice of the ‘don’t fuck with me’ variety.

  I still when I realize he called her by her name. He knows her.

  “We need to talk, Bruno.”

  “Not. Fucking. Here. And not tonight. Actually, not. fucking. ever, Tate.”

  She looks over his shoulder to me, narrowing her eyes as they drop from my face to my ring finger. With a pale face she looks back at Bruno. The room goes deathly quiet, and I stand there, waiting with bated breath for whatever is about to happen next. “Well, isn’t that a nice way to speak to your wife and the mother of your child?”

  And for the second time in my entire thirty-two years of life, my world stops spinning.

  Chapter 1

  Eight Months earlier

  “So . . .” Greg says, rolling his palm on the glass and swilling his wine. “I’ve been mulling something over since I picked you up.”

  I quirk a brow, tilting my head with curiosity, and study my date for the night.

  It’s our first one and I’m just not feeling it, but being the polite woman my mother raised me to be, I’m determined to see the night through.

  “And what’s that?” I say with a very fake smile.

  Something about this guy is off. I pinged it the moment I opened my door. It might have something to do with the way he blatantly checked me out before even saying hello.

  Since then he’s been nothing but a gentleman, yet even still, nothing he’s done thus far has given me those tingles or butterflies you hope for on a first date. There’s just no spark. I thought there might have been the chance of one a few days ago when he first approached me in the coffee shop. He asked for my phone number because he’d “forgotten his.” However, having recently suffered through the wasteland known as my dating life, I figured I had nothing to lose. Normal people date and it was merely dinner not a marriage proposal. At worst, I’d get a nice meal out of it and a story to tell my best friend, Kenzie, at work the next day.

  “Your hair is so dark, and to be honest, I usually go for blondes. So, what I’ve been wondering is whether the carpet matches the drapes?”

  My mouth drops open. I wonder how he could think that question would ever be appropriate. Before I can recover, he stupidly continues, “Because if it doesn’t, then I might be pleasantly surprised when I take you home tonight.”

  I find myself uncharacteristically lost for words as my eyes bug out at him. Did he honestly just say that to me? On a first date? And before the appetizer?

  Placing my glass back on the table—mainly to stop myself from throwing it at the guy—I take a deep breath and prepare to lay him out when I’m stopped in my tracks.

  “What did you just say to her?”

  A menacing and definitely scary growl sounds beside me. I look up to see Bruno glaring at my date, fists clenched at his side.

  Showing his stupidity knows no bounds, Greg smirks up at him, leaning back in his chair and puffing his chest out with more bravado than a man like him should ever have. “And what’s it to you?”

  “What you just said to her isn’t something a man should ever say to a woman, especially coming from someone punching so far above his weight I’m surprised you’re even in the ring. Gaby’s a whole new level of class that you could only dream of having a chance with.”

  “How is this any of your business?” Greg moves forward and rests his fists on the table. I’m seriously wondering what this guy feels he has to prove considering the size difference between him and the man he’s trying to stare down. Bruno has at least four inches on the guy, let alone his sheer size.

  “She’s my friend, and I’m making it my business,” Bruno replies. “It should be every man’s goal to have a woman like her give them even a minute of their time.”

  “Look, man, I’m on a date. This is between us . . .”

  Again, stupid, thy name is Greg.

  Enough is enough, I push my chair back and stand, grabbing my purse off the table and gripping it tight in my hands as I pin Greg with a determined stare. I know I need to channel my anger in a healthy way, one that doesn’t involve making a scene—or more of one. But having long stopped needing anyone to fight my own battles, there’s no way I’m about to start now.

  “Greg, I’d like to say the pleasure was all mine, but that would be a lie and I make it a point not to do that. So, thank you for the drink. I’d throw it at you, but that would be a waste of alcohol and something tells me the only action you’re going to be getting tonight will be courtesy of your own hand and even you will need to be drunk to live with that.”

  He splutters and narrows his gaze at me, but I’m way past done with him. Turning to Bruno, I see his glittering eyes shift to meet mine. I look down to see a takeout bag in his hand. “Is there any way you could drop me home on your way? I’ve found myself in need of a ride.”

  Bruno’s lips twitch and he simply nods, holding out his crooked elbow for me. I hook my arm in his and without sparing my date—ex-date—another glance, let Bruno lead me out of the restaurant towards his waiting car.

  In stark contrast to the man I was on a date with, Bruno opens my door and waits until I’m settled inside before rounding the hood and getting in himself. It might have something to do with the imbecile I just left inside the restaurant, but the gesture definitely causes a slight fluttering in my stomach.

  “Well that was fun,” I say as soon as Bruno slides into the driver’s seat beside me.

  “That’s one way to describe it,” he mutters, starting the car and pulling out of the restaurant parking lot.

  I turn to look at him, his amused expression lit up by a passing street light, and I try to hold it in—I really do—but the whole situation is farcical. A giggle escapes my lips. When I see his lips twitch, I’m a goner, bursting out laughing.

  “I mean, could that date have gone any worse?” He smiles and shakes his head. This should feel weird; I should be embarrassed. He effectively just saved me, and he’s doing me a solid by taking me home, but I don’t really know the guy outside of work.

  I mean, I know him as a colleague. We’ve worked together for four months now, so I know him as far as he’s let anyone else know him. To me, he’s the broody, stoic bouncer who works the bar door five nights a week. He socializes as much as he has to but that’s it.

  That’s not to say I didn’t notice him the day he first came in for his interview. I was helping Kenzie with the lunch set-up when in walked Bruno: tall and big, his open-collared shirt struggling to hold in everything that was him. He had a confident stride that screamed control. He was a man you knew got attention from any red-blooded woman in his vicinity. He was a man you noticed, a man you wanted to take notice of you.

  I definitely took note of him, but that was as far as I let it go. I don’t shit where I eat—or screw with the work crew. It always ends in awkwardness, and the one place you never want to have unnecessary drama is in the workplace.

  When I’m at work, I’m all business. I’m there to do a job and earn my keep. That’s it. Don’t get me wrong, I make sure I have fun along the way, but never that kind of fun.

  The only thing that made me second-guess my rule was his voice: low and deep, laced with dirty sex and the good kind of regrets. Oh, and an ass that you could bounce pennies off. That’s the other thing I remember about the day I met Bruno Duncan.

  When I recover from my laughter, a warm whoosh surges through me. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “No, I mean it. A minute longer and things would’ve gotten violent.”

  His grin widens as he flicks the indicator on and turns the car into my road. “Wait, you know where I live?” My heart races a little as I wait for his reply.

  “You mentioned your building and how they were doing
renovations to it.”

  My head jerks back as I try to remember when that might’ve been. The renovations were done and dusted a month ago. “When was that?”

  “A few months ago, I think. It was during staff drinks after the Summer Fest weekend.” He says it like it’s nothing, but to me, it’s a glimpse into Bruno the man. He may be quiet, and this is definitely the longest conversation we’ve ever had with each other, but he obviously remembered.

  Needing to break the silence and avoid any overthinking on my part, I hum in response and watch out the window as he pulls into a parking space outside my building and shuts off the engine.

  I face him, and my intended thank you gets stuck in my throat. Half his face is clouded by shadows but there’s no missing his guarded expression. He drapes his arm over the steering wheel, leaning against it, looking every inch of a bad boy gone good.

  Images flash through my mind of what it would be like to see beneath that wall he’s got up. A challenge like that makes a woman like me want to push everything else aside and scale the heights to get to the revelations on the other side.

  He’s a gentleman, he’s sexy as hell, protective of women, and he’s friendly. One positive sign and any woman would want to get in there.

  We sit there, staring at each other, his eyes roaming my face, my lungs aching as I struggle to breathe in the thick air buzzing between us. I search my brain for something to say, but all options lead me down the path with one destination: screwing the crew. I’d be bouncing the bouncer and riding him all the way home.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he says, his soft tone one I never thought a man so big would be capable of.

  “Okay,” I breathe, not able to hide the effect he’s having on me.

  “Why waste your time on douchebags like that? You’re a smart, sexy-as-fuck woman who could have any man she wanted. That guy wasn’t even in the same stratosphere as you.”

  What do I say to that? Working at a bar, I’ve heard more than my fair share of compliments and cheesy pick-up lines, but this is the second time tonight Bruno has said something like that to me.