Lovers Like Us Read online

  Lovers Like Us

  Mary Campisi

  Mary Campisi Books, LLC

  Contents

  Introduction

  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

  Epilogue

  Intro to Excerpt

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Other Books by Mary Campisi

  Introduction

  Unlock the secrets in Reunion Gap

  * * *

  The only woman he’s ever trusted is about to betray him…

  * * *

  Luke Donovan is the irresistible bad boy every woman wants, and no woman can catch. Until he meets Helena Montrey. There’s something about her reserved manner and fresh-faced beauty that makes him want to commit…to her. Damn, but he’s finally fallen in love! It’s time to face up to past mistakes and returning to his hometown of Reunion Gap and the family he deserted is the first step.

  After her fiancé’s betrayal makes her question her ability to tell an honest man from a liar, Helena Montrey shies away from men. Then she meets Luke Donovan. Her heart wants to tell him she’s the creator of a very successful greeting card line, not the struggling waitress and wannabe-writer he thinks she is. But her brain forces her to wait until she’s sure the former bad boy with an admitted penchant for the open roads and constant change, is in this for keeps.

  When the couple arrives in Reunion Gap, the Donovans are waiting for them with a lot of questions, and a ton of concerns. How is it that a woman they’ve never heard of ends up with a man who’s vowed he’ll never be tied down? What’s the woman’s back story? More importantly, what is she hiding? The truth about Helena will come out, and then Luke must decide if he loves her enough to give her a second chance.

  The Donovans aren’t going to stand by and watch this heartbreak happen without getting involved. After all, what’s family for, if not to get involved?

  * * *

  Reunion Gap series:

  Book One: Strangers Like Us

  Book Two: Liars Like Us

  Book Three: Lovers Like Us

  Book Four: Couples Like Us

  * * *

  BONUS MATERIAL: Included with this e-book is an excerpt from Mary’s Pieces of You.

  “Sometimes hiding in the shadows is the only way to protect your heart.”

  Copyright © 2018 by Mary Campisi

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  E-Book ISBN: 978-1-942158-39-4

  Print ISBN: 978-1-942158-52-3

  Created with Vellum

  An animal’s love is pure, simple, absolute. This book is dedicated to everyone who has ever welcomed such unconditional love into their home and hearts.

  * * *

  R.I.P. Cooper Campisi, beloved rescue dog, most loyal friend and companion (2007-2018)

  Chapter 1

  Helena Montrey once created greeting cards about love and happily-ever-after until the man she planned to spend her life with broke her heart three weeks before their wedding. That’s when she stopped believing in love, dreams, and a man’s word. That’s when she began creating greeting cards for the broken-hearted women and men who’d been jilted, cheated on, and tossed aside. She considered it therapy but the brother and sister who ran the business end of the greeting card company called it genius and more profitable than the feel-good love cards she’d once written.

  The words came without effort, often in the middle of another sleepless night.

  He stole your dreams...

  She torched your soul...

  There will be new dreams...

  New hopes...

  You will not let his actions define you...

  She will not destroy you...

  One day you will trust again...

  One day you will open your heart to love again...

  You will give trust another chance...

  And life will shine...

  * * *

  Of course, she didn’t necessarily believe the part about trusting or loving again, but it could work for other people. Why not give them hope even if she had none left? Writing and creating became her therapy and for thirteen months she fell in and out of her days, pretending life was good, she was fine, better off without him.

  She weathered news of her ex’s engagement, marriage, and upcoming fatherhood with a straight face and a who-cares attitude, but each announcement required late-night wine, dark chocolate, and a box of tissues. There were moments between the wine and chocolate when she considered picking up the phone and calling him. But what would be the point? He’d fallen in love with another woman and it hadn’t mattered that he’d been three weeks away from saying “I do” or that his shiny new wedding band lay tucked in his top dresser drawer. The dreams, the plans, the two children they’d share one day, all disappeared the second he told her he loved someone else.

  To his credit, he’d never told Helena that he didn’t love her, as though somehow not admitting that might make his confession more palatable—which, of course, it didn’t. She’d been sitting on the couch, checking off last-minute details for the wedding when he’d stood over her, the voice she loved a mix of misery and apology.

  Helena? We need to talk.

  He’d never been one to drag out the inevitable, and within the span of a commercial break she knew all about the college sweetheart who just so happened to turn up a few months ago—the one Helena had never heard about—and heaven help him, the feelings resurfaced and couldn’t be ignored or denied. That handsome face did look a bit contrite when he admitted he should have told her before but didn’t know how.

  She might have believed the tale if he hadn’t slipped in the part about Helena buying him out of the house she’d recently added his name to—the house she’d bought, the mortgage she’d paid, the one he’d persuaded her to add his name to and which she’d done, thanks to her trusting nature. And stupidity. A whole lot of stupidity.

  But there’d been more. He’d driven off in the new sports car she’d given him, an early wedding present from the bride who was not going to be his bride. He’d taken the car, the house, the stacks of vinyl albums, and the closetful of hand-tailored suits she’d bought him. And he’d been quite clever about not signing for anything wedding-related, so Helena ended up paying for the balance of the nuptials that didn’t take place. The more he took, the more she realized their relationship had never been about love, marriage, or a happily-ever-after—at least not with her. The man who had the sweetest compliments and an answer for absolutely everything had played her. He’d looked into her eyes and when he spoke, she’d believed every single word.

  Even if they were all lies.

  The day she learned the truth about her fiancé and the deceit that lives in a person’s soul was the day she decided no man would ever get close enough to hurt her again.

  And then she met Luke Donovan.

  People called him reckless, wild, and unpredictable, but Lucas John Donovan liked to think of himself as a man who wouldn’t be tied down by a job, a belief,
or a woman. He liked staying open to new challenges, hopping in his truck and heading down the road to an as-yet-unknown destination. Getting stuck in one place, tied to one woman was an oxygen drain for sure. It wasn’t that he was opposed to either—hell, he’d even consider a relationship if the woman was the right one. But that was the problem.

  How would he ever know when the right one came along? They all felt “right for now” but what about tomorrow and the day after that? What about long-term? Waking up next to that same person for the rest of his life? Listening to her yammer in his ear about this or that, making demands on his time? And the expectations that would come with it? The dinners with people he didn’t know or couldn’t stand, the compliments he’d have to force out of his mouth, the sharing that would be part of the deal. Yeah, that was something he couldn’t picture.

  He’d lost a few buddies when they found “the one,” and some of them had even gotten married and had a kid. They’d traded in Saturday night drinking and Sunday football for prime time with their one-and-only. Okay, so they didn’t have to go looking for sex but then neither did Luke. It always found him. Sure, if his friends got sick there was somebody to feed them chicken soup and nag about drinking hot tea. Well, he had a mother for that and while she might be hundreds of miles away, if he needed a mother, he knew where to find her.

  Luke might be considered a “bad influence” by the wives but most thought all he needed was the right woman to make him respectable. In other words, sleep in the same bed with the same woman, have a kid or two, move to the suburbs, learn to grill chicken instead of red meat, and don’t forget to put down the toilet seat. The wives didn’t miss an opportunity to introduce candidates for his transformation. Why would a woman introduce her friend to a guy with a love-’em-and-leave-’em reputation? Unless she really believed her choice could change him.

  Right. Not happening.

  But every once in a while, he did wonder if there was someone out there who might make him want to be different, want to be a better person. He’d even agreed to meet a few of the prospective candidates, but it always ended the same: the friend fell for him, he broke her heart, and the wife forbid him from stepping foot in her house again. Still, his buddies warned that one day he’d meet a woman who could break his heart, and then he’d know she was the one. That made no sense at all—until the day it happened.

  Later, he’d like to say it was the hot-and-sour soup that brought them together and the killer cold that stole his breathing and his logic, but she’d called it destiny. And he’d have to agree. His mother believed homemade chicken soup helped a cold but since she was a plane ride away, he’d have to depend on the hot-and-sour soup his buddy insisted would do the trick. Luke bundled up and drove to the Chinese restaurant a few blocks away, a dark place with Asian music and tiny candles on the tables. He thought he heard a waterfall in the distance but that could have been part of the music filtering through the speakers. Luke didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All he wanted was soup and tea and a nose he could breathe through.

  A man who looked like he’d been around as long as the old cash register sitting on the counter peered at Luke from behind round wire-rimmed glasses and motioned him to a small table in the corner of the restaurant. The man smiled, revealing two rows of crooked teeth, and pointed to an empty chair. “Sit,” he said in broken English. “Wait.” Then he turned and headed toward the kitchen, his small frame blending into the darkness. Luke shrugged out of his jacket, eased onto the chair, and closed his eyes. Maybe he’d buy an extra container of soup to eat later... He massaged his temples, sipped air through his mouth.

  “Are you okay?”

  Luke opened his eyes, blinked. The vision before him blurred, settled into place. It was a woman: tall, dark-haired, lots of curves. He blinked again, wiped a hand over his forehead. “Bad cold. Can I get some hot-and-sour soup?”

  “Sure. Would you like tea? Or an egg roll with hot mustard?” She smiled, and he noticed dimples on either side of her cheeks. “The hot mustard will open you up. No doubt about it.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Tea and the egg roll.” He squinted at her, added, “And the mustard.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Luke watched her walk away, noticed the sway of her full hips, the bounce of her long hair against her shoulder blades... He must have dozed off because the next thing he heard was the woman’s voice next to him.

  “Here’s your tea, soup, and the egg roll. Make sure you add a healthy dollop of the hot mustard.”

  Her smile made her eyes sparkle. What color were they? Amber? Green? Luke tried to tell but the lighting was too dark, and he was too sick. “Thanks.” He dunked the egg roll in the hot mustard, bit into it, and thought his head would explode. Luke snatched the glass of water, chugged it down, stared at the woman. “I could’ve used a warning.”

  “I’m so sorry. I guess you have to build up a tolerance.”

  “Yeah. Guess so.” He shook his head, sipped the hot-and-sour soup, kept his gaze on the woman. He wished it weren’t so dark in here so he could get a better look at her; she sounded nice and genuine and he wanted to see what that looked like when he wasn’t in hunting mode.

  “The soup should help, and if you’ll give the mustard another try, that should, too.”

  “So, dip it, don’t coat it?” He lifted the egg roll, dipped the end in the hot mustard. His nose had started to clear and there’d been a few seconds when the stuffiness had disappeared.

  She smiled. “Right.”

  Luke eyed the restaurant, noticed there was only one other customer. “Can I buy you a drink? Tea? Or maybe an egg roll with hot mustard?”

  The woman laughed. “No thanks. I’ve already had my quota for the day.”

  He liked talking with her even if it was about how to unstuff his nose and clear his head. “Do you want to sit down for a minute?” he asked, motioning to the chair opposite him. “I mean, if you won’t get into trouble—” he paused, added “—and if you aren’t worried about catching my cold...”

  There was a second of hesitation before she slid back the chair and sat. “It’s slow and I didn’t take a break today. I’ll sit for a minute.”

  “Good.” He dipped the rest of the egg roll in the hot mustard, popped it in his mouth, and let the mustard do its work. “I’m Luke.”

  “Helena.”

  No last names but when had it become necessary to attach a last name with the waitress who served him? Hell, there’d been too many times when a woman had delivered a lot more than food and he’d never gotten her last name. There’d even been a time or two when he hadn’t gotten her first. He pushed that last truth away, concentrated on the woman across from him. Damn, but he wished it weren’t so hot in here and his head weren’t so foggy. She fell out of focus and Luke squinted. Almond-shaped eyes, arched brows...what color were her eyes? More squinting, but he couldn’t tell.

  She eyed him and when she spoke, her words could have been a lecture if the tone hadn’t been so soft. “At the risk of sounding like a mother, you know you should be home in bed, drinking fluids, and resting.”

  He managed a smile, decided he liked the way she delivered a suggestion. “You do sound like a mother.” Pause. “My mother.”

  “I like to think of it as common sense, a trait most men don’t have when they’re sick.”

  “Ah, a woman with a quick tongue. Sorry, but my brain’s too fuzzy right now to keep up.” He coughed, tried to clear his throat, coughed again. “So, are you from here?”

  She shrugged, looked away. “I’m just passing through. You?”

  “Same. I’m with a building crew; we travel the country, work projects, and move on.”

  “Houses?”

  He nodded. “I’ve done everything from roofing to drywall and plumbing. Carpentry’s my specialty.”

  “And you just keep moving? No place to call home?”

  What to say to that? Maybe it was the cold or the fever that made him extra c
hatty, but bits of truth slipped out that he usually guarded. “I like Colorado, and I’ve done a lot of work here, but my home’s in Pennsylvania. It’s a small town called Reunion Gap. I don’t get there often but it’ll always be home.”

  “Maybe you’ll settle down there someday,” she said, her voice soft, curious.

  Luke shrugged. “Maybe.” There was a lot of doubt in that word, considering how he and his sister had dumped their parents’ problems on their oldest brother. Luke should have helped; he should not have pretended he was too busy to do the right thing. He’d been too self-absorbed and unwilling to accept the unpleasantness of his parents’ situation, and now he had to live with those actions. “What about you? Where do you call home?”

  He didn’t miss the slight hesitation before she spoke, followed by an extra breath of air that said her next words might not be one hundred percent accurate, or if they were, she wished they weren’t.

  “San Diego.”

  She didn’t sound happy about it and if he weren’t feeling so miserable he might have poked around a bit for details. “I’ve been there. Nice place.”

  “That’s what everybody says.”

  But what about you? he wanted to ask. Do you think it’s a nice place? And if you don’t, why? Of course, he wasn’t sick enough to forget his manners, so he let the comment slide and pretended he hadn’t heard the edge in her voice that said the place didn’t feel like home. “So, how’d you end up working here?” That should be an easy question with a simple answer, except it wasn’t. Nope, the answer she gave him wasn’t an answer at all...