Secondhand Boyfriends

Secondhand Boyfriends

a novel

Jessa Jeffries

Copyright 2014 – Jessa Jeffries

All Rights Reserved

Cover Design – GoOnWrite.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental.

DESCRIPTION

Wedding columnist Olivia Bixby will never forget the day her ex-boyfriend’s wedding announcement landed on her desk. Her fallback guy, the guy she’d dumped just months prior when things became a little too boring and predictable, was suddenly engaged to be married. But it wasn’t just that. His fiancé? Ridiculously stunning local news anchor, Ayla Giovanni.

Suddenly consumed with jealousy, Olivia is forced to reconcile feelings she never thought she’d feel towards him ever again. What did Ayla see in Sam that she didn’t? And did she only want him because she couldn’t have him?

But when Olivia meets Bennett Townsend, the striking, charming, and somewhat elusive detective who happens to live conveniently in the same apartment building as Ayla and Sam, she’s forced to straddle the line between moving on and never letting go.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Secondhand Boyfriends is a 50,000 word standalone novel that contains no cliffhanger.

DEDICATION

To anyone who’s ever been “secondhand”…

J.J.

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OTHER TITLES BY JESSA

ALL OF MY DAYS (GARNER-WILLOUGHBY SERIES, BOOK 1)

ALL OF MY HEART (GARNER-WILLOUGHBY SERIES, BOOK 2)

ALL OF MY LIFE (GARNER-WILLOUGHBY SERIES, BOOK 3)

HIS NAME WAS HAYES (GARNER-WILLOUGHBY SERIES, BOOK 3.5)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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 (AYLA)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I knew exactly how I got there, but I didn’t know what I was going to do once I had arrived. As I stared at the green street sign, I reached into my left pocket and pulled out a torn piece of newspaper with an address scribbled on the top in red ink:

“704 Vine Street, Apt 1B”

Across the street was a piano bar called Lem’s where some local five-o-clockers were piling in for a few beers and shelter from the impending storm.

I wasn’t paying much attention to the discordant flashes of lightning, the rumbles and groans coming from above, or the hit and miss water droplets starting to fall from the sky.

I balanced my tote over my left shoulder as I retied the belt on my khaki trench coat. My face felt hot and my skin felt clammy and damp. My hair started to stick to my neck and I could feel it beginning to swell and curl from the humidity.

I hurried into Lem’s and took a seat near the bar by the window that directly faced Dewberry Apartments on Vine. For a moment, my stomach fluttered from a mixture of anxiety and unsubstantiated elation.

“Ma’am?” A skeletal, bearded bartender in his late thirties placed a napkin on the bar in front of me.

“Amaretto and diet, please. Thanks,” I said. I flashed a two-second smile and quickly turned back to the apartment building across the way.

The bartender swiftly returned and sat the drink in front of me, grabbing my five dollar bill and leaving two lifeless quarters in its place. Before I could tell him to keep the change he had vanished and was already tending to other patrons.

I watched as throngs of umbrella-holding nine-to-fivers made their way through the maze of people all trying to get home for the day or at least to someplace dry.

By 5:30 my drink was nearly finished and my neck was getting sore from holding it in one position for so long. My palms began to sweat and I could feel my face flushing again. Any minute now, Sam would be walking through the front door of Dewberry Apartments—at least, I hoped.

It had been over a year since I’d last spoken with him, a conversation that had occurred when I’d decided to end things for reasons I couldn’t admit to his face. I assumed he had the same old job at the same old IT company and worked the same old schedule. This apartment was new, though. He hadn’t lived in this area a year ago.

I wondered how long he had been living just two blocks from my office and if he had moved there on the off chance he might run into me someday.

“Is this seat taken?” a dark haired, clean-cut suit asked.

“Go right ahead,” I replied, barely making eye contact. I refused to take my eye off the mark and miss the chance of seeing Sam walk into that building. My own curiosity was my number one priority.

“Are you cold or something?” the suit asked.

“What?”

“You’re still wearing your coat. I think it’s kind of hot in here myself.”

“Oh. I hadn’t even noticed,” I muttered, uninterested. Couldn’t he see I was busy?

“What are you watching?”

“Excuse me?”

“Those guys said you’ve been staring out the window for at least a half hour.”

“What guys?” I turned around and scanned the bar. A group of guys not much older than twenty-one were seated around a table chuckling and avoiding eye contact with me.

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll let you get back to your bird watching.” The suit winked and flashed a blindingly white smile.

Gag me now.

“Excuse me.” Not one to allow myself to be mocked by an overconfident meathead, I grabbed my drink and relocated to a table closer to the window.

Another twenty minutes passed, and there was still no sign of Sam. I started to feel like the crazy, stalker ex-girlfriend that I always tried so hard not to be. I wondered how many times Sam saw me walking these very streets, and I wondered how I could have missed seeing him. Lastly, I wondered why it mattered to me all of a sudden.

The rain let up and a merciful break in the clouds allowed some sunlight to seep through. The streets slowly dried and patrons began sporadically exiting the local shops and eateries with shopping and doggy bags in hand.

By 6:30 I had downed my second amaretto and diet. After silently debating whether or not to stick it out, I decided to call it a night and head home. But first I made a couple laps around the block, walking slowly up and down Vine Street. I didn’t want to feel like I waited there like a crazy person for absolutely nothing.

As I took my time walking down Vine, I noticed the suit up ahead.

“Oh, wow,” I mumbled out loud. I looked down at the ground, hoping he didn’t see me. I fished around in my tote trying to find my cell phone desperate to find a way to seem unapproachable.

“Hey.” Of course he had to acknowledge me. “Weren’t you the girl who sat at the bar for over an hour staring at this place?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yep. Sure was. Just waiting for a friend. Never showed.”

“Oh, really?” he said.
      
“Who do you know that lives in this building?”

“What‘s it to you?”

“I live here. I know pretty much everyone.”

“I don’t think you know my friend. She just moved in.”

“That’s easy. There are only two girls in this whole building.” The suit was persistent. “Ayla Giovanni and Maria Johnson.”

“Maria Johnson.”

The suit started to laugh. “You just made that up. There is no Maria Johnson in these apartments. You’re not stalking Ayla because she’s on the news, right?”

Insulted and secretly impressed by his lie detection skills, I snorted, “Of course not. What’s your deal, anyway?”

“Look, I’m sorry for giving you a hard time. I really am. I’m Bennett Townsend, by the way.”

“Olivia Bixby.”

“Nice meeting you,” Bennett said. He flashed a million dollar smile as he dangled his keys and proceeded up the steps. “I’m not stalking you, by the way. I live here.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s been one of those days.” The suit was slightly charming, I had to admit.

The street seemed to have emptied, and we were suddenly the only two on the block. It was quiet for a second as if neither one of us wanted to leave. A minute later, the sound of laughter echoed up the hollowed street. Two people, a man and a woman, linked arm in arm, rounded the corner and turned up Vine Street. It was Sam with a dark-haired beauty on his arm.

In a mental panic, I blurted, “I should go.”

“Wait,” Bennett said.

“No, I have to.” I quickly trotted up the street in the opposite direction of the oblivious twosome.

“Come in?” he offered.

“Fine.” I jutted around and pushed him in the door. “Quick, I have to pee. Sorry.”

He walked a few steps to apartment 1A and unlocked the door in a hurry. “Bathroom’s the
second door on the right.”

“I don’t have to go an more,” I said.

“You sure? Because—”

“—positive.”

“You are really starting to freak me out.”
      

“
You
started talking to
me
. I would have been perfectly fine without you trying to stir up trouble back there at the bar,” I ranted.

“’Stir up trouble’? I said I was sorry.”

“I know, I know.”

I walked over to the living room window and peered outside.

The couple were still linked arm in arm and were simultaneously making their way up the stairs. I could hear keys jingling as the big front door opened and closed.

“Will you excuse me for a sec?” Bennett asked. He made his way to the second door on the right.

I seized the opportunity and tip toed over to Bennett’s front door, where from the peep-hole I clearly observed my ex, Sam, and one Miss Ayla Giovanni. She was even more beautiful than I ever could have anticipated. Her laugh was infectious and her hair bounced like a slow motion shampoo commercial with each step.

I could barely make out their words through the muffled whispering, but before long they had entered apartment 1B across the hall and my little peepshow was over.

Bennett came out of the bathroom with a puzzled look on his face. “Was someone just at my door?”

“No, why?”

“You were just looking out the peep hole.”

“Was I?” I played dumb. “But on that note, my friend did call and she’s going to meet me at my place in a bit, so I’m taking off. But thanks for, um… thanks. It was nice meeting you.”

That was awkward.

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you around?” a bewildered Bennett said with a half-smile.

I bolted from his place and walked the ten blocks to my apartment in a daze. I fished around in my oversized bag and pulled out my phone to call the only person who would understand what had just happened.

“Claudia, answer your damn phone. I’m having a major problem right now!” I left a message on Claudia’s voicemail. I made sure to speak in a low voice so passersby wouldn’t hear.

By the time I got home, Claudia was sitting on her couch sipping hot tea in her pajamas and watching the evening news.

“I just called you,” I announced as I walked in the door.

“Yeah, I was washing my face. I got your message. So what‘s up?”

I stood with one hand on my hip as I threw my bag on the ground and kicked off my wedges.