First Loss (Chance Encounters #5)

Chapter One

Liv

Hot breath moistens the skin around my ear, forcing my neck to bow in escape. He doesn’t notice as his hips gyrate between my legs, rocking me monotonously atop the arm of the sofa. Without the slightest bit of pressure to my clit, I hardly feel anything.

Is this what he came for?

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” I whisper, pouting sultrily against his shoulder to avoid his ragged breathing. It’s becoming difficult to pretend it’s not repelling.

“I’m close…” He puffs, jerking his hips stiffly as if he’s in pain.

“But–” I don’t have a chance to continue my rebuttal before his pinnacled grunt rumbles against my shoulder. We never even made it past the living room.

“Sorry, sweet thing. I’m in a rush.”

A rush. He hasn’t seen me in over a month.

“Well, maybe next time we can remove all of our clothes before we start,” I remark dully, not quite concealing my boiling animosity.

He smirks as he pulls the soiled condom off and drops it on the coffee table.

“I have a hard time getting any work done when all I can think about are the sexy pictures my fiancé sends me. Seeing you naked only makes me cum sooner,” he chuckles in amusement, turning away before he notices my lack of enthusiasm.

I used to send him sexy selfies all the time, almost every day, but he hasn’t seemed to care that I’ve stopped sending new ones altogether.

“Then you should focus on making me cum before you take your dick out,” I snip, failing to hide the frustration in my voice.

“Don’t be crass. You know that I only had enough time for a quick stop. You’re the one who chose to move away, not me.”

He’s right. I made the choice to uproot my life.

I wasn’t ready to settle into his penthouse condo. Not when other parts of my life weren’t there and parts left unsatisfied. It was too permanent to move into a tower I would never escape from.

Instead, I wrapped up all my clients and found a cottage outside of New Hope, a small Hallmark town in Rollins County in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

I promised a small reprieve wouldn’t affect our engagement. Once we’re married, I’ll move home, and I’ll finally settle down.

Except that our relationship has strained. The distance has grown more than physical. Daily phone calls turned into one every couple of days. Weekly visits turned into monthly, and now we’re nearing a wedding date that looks like a vast black hole.

“I know, it’s my fault,” I mumble, blinking up at the ceiling, waiting for the tears to build up behind my eyes.

“Listen, this is only a phase,” Elliot whispers against my shoulder. “Things will get back to normal when you come home. I won’t be so busy with work, we’ll share a bed again.”

Elliot’s a Chief Financial Officer for a Fortune 500 company; he’s always busy, but that’s never mattered because my job keeps me busier.

I was a corporate attorney who juggled multiple caseloads, and now I’m balancing an entire county on my shoulders.

Yet, somehow, I still have the desire for a hearty sex life when he is content with quickies.

“Come here, sweet thing.” He pulls me in, wrapping me in arms that used to be comforting. Now, they feel strange. Forced. “I love you, Liv.”

“I love you, too.” I do. I mean, I think I do. Everything in my gut churns, and the words feel sour coming out.

This isn’t me. I don’t question my gut. I’ve built my entire career around it. My brain carries me, but my gut puts the nail in the coffin for all my cases.

We’ve been together going on three years… He’s right. This is a phase. Everything will be fine.

“How about next time I come to you? I can spend the weekend with you, and we can go over some final wedding details,” I suggest, wrapping my arms around his neck. He smiles warmly at me before brushing my thick chestnut hair away from my forehead.

His eyes stay focused there as he speaks. “I was going to surprise you, but the condo is being renovated. I’ve been trying to keep it under wraps until you can see the finished product.”

I attempt to hide my disappointment. I thought he’d be thrilled to spend an entire weekend with me because he always complains that we don’t make the time.

“Oh. Well, you could come here.”

“I’ll check out my calendar and let you know.” His lips land on my cheek and disappear even quicker. I feel nothing.

“Right. Drive safe,” I mutter as he slips his shoes on by the door. He glances back at me, and I stop spinning the giant engagement ring on my finger.

“You’ll get whiplash after you leave this place and move back home. Like you’ve stepped through time.” He winks, leaving out the front door without hesitation.

He likes to remark on the state of my cottage. It’s outdated and homely. The outside’s yellow facade is faded nearly white and is covered in vines.

I love it.

It reminds me of nature, the earth. As a little girl, I played in fairy gardens and spent my mornings making mud pies and witches’ potions, always with smudges of dirt on my cheeks and in my hair.

This cottage, nestled back in the woods, surrounded by the smoke of the mountains, feels like home.

Tossing my hair over my head and back up again, I rake my fingers through my blowout and fluff it until it looks perfect. I stare into the mirror, avoiding my sad eyes in the reflection.

My makeup still looks great. I never shed any of the tears I thought would fall, or God forbid, broke a sweat during that sad coupling.

It doesn’t matter. I have somewhere to be, and my personal life does not belong at the forefront of my thoughts. Not with the trial looming over my head.

When I moved to Rollins County, there weren’t a lot of prospects related to being a high-powered attorney, but I always wanted to help people, and the public sector is exactly where it’s needed most.

I picked up a few civil cases just to put my name in the ring at the local courthouse, and then a family court case led me to Sheriff Malec.

His now-wife, Natalie, needed custody of her little brother, which got me a personal introduction to the sitting judge.

When Judge Reisner retired, and the only prosecutor in the county took his position, I was lying in wait. I was appointed Interim County Prosecutor under the stipulation that I would step down when a permanent candidate ran for the position.

It’s been six months, and there hasn’t been a single whisper in the wind that anyone is coming to fill the role. Now, I’m heading the biggest case Rollins County has ever seen, and I’m prosecuting two members of one of the oldest families in the area.

Randall Porter and his brother, Jeremiah Porter, are looking at a long list of conspiracy, fraud, assault, and kidnapping. And if I can help it, attempted murder.

Sheriff Malec warned me it could get sketchy, but high stakes don’t scare me. Not much frazzles you when you’ve already lost everything in your life once.

* * *

My palm jabs the windshield wiper button again on this perfectly sunny day, leaving me huffing in frustration when the single daisy, stuck by its stem, doesn’t dislodge itself from under my windshield.

I was in a rush to get out the door and to my meeting on time, so I didn’t notice it. I know Elliot didn’t leave it. He’s not a daisy guy. Red roses, only.

Doesn’t matter, I’m about to pull into Second Chance Sanctuary, and I need to make sure that Lochlan Dane and Jo Montgomery are on board for how intense this trial will be.

Lochlan runs the black bear rescue that was targeted by Randall Porter. Jo was attacked by Jeremiah Porter because of it.

We have months to prepare, but I’ll leave no stone unturned before we ever enter the courtroom.

The weird flowers left on my car are probably just a small-town thing.

People notice a newcomer right away. They stare when I stop into the grocery store.

The locals know who I am, and I get the occasional request for free representation.

I don’t mind the occasional pro bono, but my expensive pantsuits aren’t going to pay for themselves.

However, the random gifts in my mailbox and on my doorstep are becoming annoying. I thought rural communities were more respectful of private property, but it seems like Southern curiosity is overshadowing.

Last week, I came home to a box of chocolate-covered strawberries on my welcome mat. No note or return address. They went straight into the trash can, and so did my welcome mat. No need to encourage anyone.

The rational part of my brain knows that it’s weird, but I have too much going on, and I refuse to put more thought into it.

My Jaguar careens roughly through the entrance of Second Chance Sanctuary, clearly with terrain meant for trucks, and I park next to Sheriff Malec’s SUV. Jo is his half-sister, but he insisted on making introductions because of the owner of the property.

Now that I’m seeing Lochlan Dane for the first time, I’m glad for the extra presence. His glower seems permanent on his face, but I feel it assessing me as I meet them on the porch to introduce myself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Liv.” Jo is bright and kind as she shakes my hand, but he only stares, his eyes shadowed by his furrowed brow.

“Is Liv short for something?” He asks suddenly, gruffly. The unease rolls over me, but not because I’m afraid… It seems as if he is seeing something that I’m not.

“Just Liv,” I answer kindly, but bluntly. Everyone calls me Liv, I insist.

I dive into my plan for prosecuting the Porter brothers, ignoring his stare, taking comfort in my craft. I know the law, it’s my strength.

I focus on Jo, handing her my business card before navigating carefully to my car. Attempting not to break an ankle barely outweighs keeping the dry dirt off my dark navy pants.

“I’m leaving town in a couple of days. Will that be an issue?” Jo asks, and I offer her a knowing smile.

“Jackson filled me in. It shouldn’t be an issue as long as you’re here for the trial.” He also mentioned her and Lochlan’s odd relationship.

As intimidating as he is, his body gravitates towards her, shielding her from my ominous words about what’s to come with the Porters, and fixating on her when she speaks.

They continue their conversation as I make my leave, and I can tell tensions are high. Jo’s a few years younger than I am, but I know a smart woman when I see one.

If she wants it badly enough, she’ll get everything she wants in life. If a man isn’t cut out to be a part of it, he can get lost.

“Hey, Loch!”

The toe of my stiletto catches the dirt as I reach for my car door, releasing a plume of dust, and my body lurches.

“Olive?” That voice.

Time transcends, and suddenly, I’m not Liv Greenwood, attorney-at-law and Interim Prosecutor. I’m Olive, the shy junior on the first day at my new school.

My eyes lock with Jo’s concerned ones across the roof of my car. “I’ve got to go.” I can’t do this. “It was nice to meet you. Call me if you need anything.”

Get out of here. Leave. Leave. My brain screams as my limbs struggle to respond.

“Liv!”

I barely hear my name over the rumble of my engine, but I don’t stop. My foot hits the gas before I’ve shifted into drive, forcing my tires to do the fleeing for me.

I hear the guttural, “FUCK!” But I don’t look back, not this time, even as the familiar tremors wrack my body.