Bed Head: A Friends to Lovers Romance (Sugar & Spice Book 1) Read online

  Jeni Leigh

  Bed Head

  The Sugar & Spice Series

  Copyright © 2020 by Jeni Leigh

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Jeni Leigh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  ISBN: 9798625144421

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  “Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together.”

  -Woodrow T. Wilson

  Contents

  1. Kate

  2. Brody

  3. Kate

  4. Kate

  5. Brody

  6. Kate

  7. Kate

  8. Brody

  9. Kate

  10. Brody

  11. Kate

  12. Brody

  13. Kate

  14. Kate

  15. Brody

  16. Kate

  17. Kate

  18. Brody

  19. Kate

  20. Brody

  21. Kate

  22. Brody

  23. Brody

  24. Kate

  25. Kate

  26. Kate

  27. Brody

  28. Epilogue: Kate

  One

  Kate

  “Shit,” I mutter to myself as I cruise down the freeway gripping the steering wheel like it might just fly off the column at any second.

  No. Maybe getting fired is a good thing…a blessing in disguise.

  First off, I should’ve never been working at the bar. I could have been using my expensive interior design degree to fulfill my life goals instead of working as a bartender at a crap hole dive in the heart of Wildhaven, New York a few miles from where I attended university. But I only worked there because I hadn’t been hired at any firms. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve applied to but getting my foot in the door has proved more difficult that I’d hoped.

  Everybody seems to know somebody.

  Everybody but me, that is.

  Now, it seems I can’t even hold down a job bartending. Can I help it that I can’t keep my mouth shut when I see a man disrespecting a woman? A girl’s gotta say something when she sees an injustice happening in real time. Because if not me, then who will?

  According to Gary, my former boss—and professional chauvinistic pig—that sort of mentality doesn’t sell drinks. Women behind a bar should only fill orders and look pretty. How was I supposed to know that the last guy I loudly called out was a potential investor for a second bar location?

  Dumbass. Both of them.

  I take the next exit. Only a few more miles until I get home to Luca. My pounding heart settles slightly at the thought of my boyfriend.

  We met my freshman year in college. He was a senior and I was naive. Luca swept me off my feet with all his gorgeous dark Latino features and his worldly knowledge. What he knew about politics and history was astounding to me. He was everything—older, intellectual, not like most of the guys I dated in high school. He had goals and plans.

  Luca found what he wanted in me, too—a woman who had spunk and a great eye for design. He’s always said that our opposite natures added a bit of spice to his stable existence.

  And I have to agree. We’ve always been a good balance for each other. Seven years later and we’re still together, sharing an older but completely modernized one-bedroom city walkup that I decorated on a shoestring bartender budget.

  Almost forgetting my awful night, a smile pulls at the corners of my lips. Last month I happened upon a receipt for a large sum, paid in cash, from a local jeweler, in his suit pocket as I was hanging it up. It wasn’t my birthday. It wasn’t an anniversary. All I can guess is that he’s planning to propose…and soon. I get giddy at the thought of it.

  At least I have something better to focus on while I search for another means of a paycheck. Luca has a solid job so cash flow won’t be an issue for a while, but that’s not a permanent solution.

  I loosen my grip on the steering wheel and straighten my back. Yes. None of this is as bad as I thought. Instead of working double shifts I’ll be able to take a minute to breathe—maybe even put out some resumes to a few architectural firms and commercial industries. Maybe I’ll even go ahead and pull out the lonely business outfits languishing at the back of my closet that I scraped together to buy. It might be nice to see myself in fitted skirts and tops instead of jeans and oversized hoodies for a change—let the world know there’s an actual female under all this denim and cotton.

  Soon, I spot our building and pull into our assigned space near the entrance.

  Feeling lighter I take the stairs up to unit 405. I step into the apartment at a quarter past ten and find Luca sitting on the couch with some dumb Western playing on the TV.

  Quickly, he places his phone on the side table and raises his brows. “Uh…why are you home?”

  The shock on Luca’s face isn’t a surprise to me. I should’ve been out until 3 a.m. “Hi. I know, I know, you weren’t expecting me, but surprise.” I smile and wave my hands with wide open jazz fingers, like I’m presenting him with the outstanding gift of my presence. I flit my attention to the Western again. “We can binge watch Bonanza or whatever you’ve got going there.”

  Luca doesn’t say anything.

  I scoff. “Old man Gary fired me.”

  His face goes from shock to sullen dismay. Luca leans forward, elbows on his knees and runs his hands over his face.

  What the hell?

  Getting fired sucks, but I never expected this kind of reaction. My hands fall to my sides with an audible slap to my thighs and I sigh. “Come on. It’s not that bad. No one died.”

  Confused, I watch the curve of Luca’s Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows and clicks off the show with the remote.

  Maybe someone did die.

  I walk from the closed front door and lower myself next to him on the couch. “What’s going on?’ I reach for his hand but he draws it back. “Did something happen?” My thoughts race. “Did my mom call? Oh hell, is she coming to visit?” I keep it light, but as the words fall from my lips my heart catches in a vise-like grip.

  Please don’t let my mother be coming to visit. Nothing on earth could be worse.

  Finally he speaks. “Kate, I think we need to put the brakes on our relationship.”

  So I lied. There is something worse. My mind jumps back to my recent find. What about the jewelry receipt? My heart picks up.

  “Excuse me?” are the best words I can manage.

  “I just think we’re moving too fast.”

  I blink two times in utter shock.

  “We need to
—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold up.” I’m up and off the couch, pacing. Out of frustration I rip the elastic band from my hair and finger through my long brown hair before twisting it back up into a messy bun. “Too fast?”

  “Yes, I think—”

  “Seven years. How fucking long would it take to be going too slow?”

  His jaw loosens and his mouth drops open preparing to respond.

  I point at him. “No, don’t answer that. It was rhetorical.” I stand there in the middle of the living room, trying to control my words. “What the freaking hell?”

  Okay, so I’m not very skilled at control. I admit this.

  He lets out a long, audible sigh. “I thought maybe we could take a few steps back. Just to see where we’re headed.”

  “A few steps back? Okay, umm, like how far? You want me to sleep on the couch or something?”

  He turns his gaze to the floor.

  “Oh, further, all right. How far?”

  Luca purses his lips before he speaks. “I think it would be best if you moved out.” He pauses as if to weigh the possible consequences if he continues. He knows me too well.

  And he’s probably right to take stock since I’m already searching for something in the room I don’t care about to throw at him. But I like everything in the room since I had carefully chosen each piece. “When?”

  “I know you just got fired but as soon as possible would be beneficial.”

  Is he being flippant or serious? I really can’t tell.

  I shake my head trying to loosen the thoughts flying like drunken circus monkeys in my head. “Beneficial? To whom? You? Because I have no place else to go.”

  Still, Luca remains like stone on the couch. “I think we should take some time to see other people.”

  Other people? My mind twists with his words and the thought of the receipt I found in Luca’s pocket a month ago. Was Luca already seeing other people? “Who is she? Did you buy that jewelry for her? I found the receipt.”

  His dark eyes go wide and for a second I think he’s going to stand, but he doesn’t. “This is for the best, Kate.”

  “Who are you fucking, Luca? What’s her name? Are you moving her into this precious palace of yours?”

  He drops his attention to the floor. He won’t even look at me!

  To add to the moment’s drama, I throw my arms up and turn in a slow circle with my head tossed back like I’m drinking in the 1200 square feet of space for the first time.

  “I was in the middle of texting you,” he says sheepishly as he grabs his cell from the side table and glances at the screen.

  He’s sleeping with someone else and is too much of a coward to come right out with the admission!

  Unable to stop myself, laughter exits in rolling giggles. I wave my hand and bend over holding my stomach. “Wait…oh my…. You were texting me to break off a seven-year relationship so you can see someone else? And right after I got fired? Nice.” The speed at which I move from holding my thighs and catching my breath to grab his phone from his hand rivals The Flash’s superpowers. If I weren’t so pissed I’d be impressed with myself.

  “Hey,” he yells as I snatch it from him.

  But in my rage, I’m too quick…and too impulsive. I thrust open the living room window to the darkened night and shove my arm through the opening.

  “Don’t do—” he starts and finally stands.

  “Oops.” I plant myself by the window, arm outstretched with my fingers splayed open in the air and let the phone plummet to the sidewalk below. “Guess you don’t have to bother ever texting me again.”

  “You’re being a child.” Luca crosses his arms over his chest, somehow keeping his calm.

  My eyes narrow and I purse my lips. “I’m being a child? You’re the one who was breaking up with me over text because you’re cheating on me! Do I know her?”

  “No, you don’t know her.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “And this is not how I wanted us to have this conversation. You’re right. I should’ve been upfront that this is just not working anymore.” Luca pauses. “Listen, you don’t have to leave tonight. Stay. Get your things together. I’ll go downstairs and crash with Ted and Julia.”

  I scoff. “Ha! So gallant of you. So perfectly amicable, chivalrous, noble. Screw you.” Leaving it at that, I storm past him, out the door, and down the four flights of stairs to the street, mumbling to myself the entire way like a crazy person.

  “I’ll show you unreasonable. Get my damned things together. Let’s take a step back.” I stop where his phone is shattered into a million pieces on the cement, and out of spite, jump all over them with my fists clenched, growling like a Tasmanian devil through gritted teeth.

  Real mature, Kate.

  I glance up to the window where Luca is hanging his head out. “Kate.”

  Ugh. Why does he have to be so damn calm all the time?

  Flaunting my current level of maturity, I give him the finger and race to my car before the tears threatening in the corners of my eyes make their way out.

  As I sit in my car, I think about how things have been different. It’s been weeks since we had sex. I thought it was just because we were busy…because we are…but I should’ve known something was up when Luca was asleep every night after my shift. He was getting it somewhere else. This only makes my anger flair up again, suppressing the tears for a moment.

  The engine to my tiny Volkswagen sputters and complains as it fires up. But I slam the gas pedal to the floor, my little bug protesting with a jerk, and pull out of the space onto the street.

  To say I’m having a bad day is an understatement. At some point between waking up happy and thinking I was set for life I passed the threshold of disaster. Now, I’m jobless and homeless. Don’t forget freshly dumped.

  And all my stuff is still in Luca’s damn apartment.

  I rip my phone from my pocket and hover my finger over Lyla’s name.

  I shake my head. She doesn’t have the space in her studio for anything long or short term. I’d be sleeping on the floor. Not that I’d be sleeping at all in my current state of mind. I’ll call her later. Right now I need a stiff drink and a place to vent.

  I speed dial the one person I know I can count on.

  “Hey, Freckles.” The deep sound of my oldest friend’s voice reverberating from my cell phone breaks me.

  “Brody. He. It’s. Through text,” I sob unintelligibly.

  “Are you driving? I hear the engine.”

  “Yes.” I barely get the word out.

  “Please, pull over right now.” His voice is filled with concern. “You shouldn’t be on the road.”

  Somehow heeding his advice, I guide my piece of crap tiny car to the shoulder of the highway despite my tear blurred eyes. The metal frame shakes with the sound of rumbling tires crunching over rocks.

  “What’s going on? Where are you?” Brody’s voice is level and steady, but concern peppers his tone. He’s my rock. “I’ve got you on my locator app. You’re on the 81. Where are you headed?”

  I sniffle and wipe my dripping nose on a crumpled up coffee napkin from the floor next to the messenger bag I brought to work. “Can I come stay with you?”

  There’s no pause. “Any time. I’m always here.”

  “Can you uncork some wine? No wait, I need rum.” I sniff.

  “I’ll have it on ice in half an hour. Are you sure you’ll be okay to get here? I can drive to you.”

  I gulp down the lump in my throat. “I’ll be fine now.”

  “You call right away if there’re any problems.”

  “Okay. See you soon.” I click off the phone and toss it on the seat next to me.

  This is why I love Brody. From the moment I met the cute blond boy in elementary school he always took care of me. When Tommy Nolan cut my ponytail off in the fourth grade, Brody bought me a baseball hat to wear until my hair grew out.

  He also beat the snot out of Tommy Nolan.

  In junior high
, Brody always defended my off-brand jeans and invited me to tag along to all the popular kid’s parties with him. Freshman year in high school he took me to the Homecoming dance because I didn’t have a date— even though he could have had his pick of almost any girl in our class.

  Then when his parents suddenly died in an accident at the end of our junior year, I took care of him. Brody lived with his older brother, Adam, but he climbed in my bedroom window every night because he couldn’t sleep. Brody stayed with me until my mother pulled in from her night shift at the bottling plant. It’s not like Mom would have killed him for sneaking over though… I think she always like Brody better than she liked me anyway. I reminded her too much of my dad.

  Nothing ever happened on those nights together, we just held each other since we both needed the connection.

  Brody Taylor is my longest lasting, best ever friend. Which is why we came up with the rules.

  Rule #1: Never have sex with your best friend.

  Rule #2: Always refer to rule #1.

  They’re good rules. Important rules. Because neither of us can bear taking the chance that we’d ever lose each other by doing something stupid like sleeping together.

  Two

  Brody

  Katie’s Volkswagen headlights appear at the end of my street—ten minutes earlier than she should’ve arrived.

  Shit, she drives like Mario Andretti…too fast. She’s going to end up with a million speeding tickets, or worse yet an accident. I shiver and shake my head in disapproval of her reckless driving while waiting on the doorstep of my house.

  Finally, she stops the car in my driveway, and I rush out to meet her. Before I get a word in edgewise, her small body is in my arms, shaking as if she were stuck in a snowstorm without a coat. The feel of her skin on mine is as natural as breathing.

  “Hey there, Speed Racer,” I whisper into her ear and rub her arms. “You may want to take note of those signs that say ‘speed limit’. Not a suggestion.”

  Instead of laughing at my joke she lets out a sob. I hold her out at arm’s length to look her over and make sure there are no physical injuries.