TEASER REVEAL! You're The One I Don't Want by Carrie Aarons
Release Date: November 15, 2018
Love is weakness.
Which is why Annabelle Mills vowed a long time ago to never let it destruct her. A former pageant queen with a bite equally as lethal as her bark, she’s interning at her dream job on the set of the highest-rated home design show on television. Everything in Annabelle’s life, though it may be cold and isolated, is going exactly as she always planned.
Until her ex-high school sweetheart moves to town. The same boy that she cheated on, once upon a time, essentially breaking both of their hearts. But no one knows the full story, and being vulnerable enough to open up about it is not on Annabelle’s checklist.
Hate is fuel.
The kind that courses through Boone Graham’s veins and allows him to shut out everyone around him. As the hottest rookie on Austin’s professional baseball team, he should be spending his days hitting homeruns and signing jerseys. Except he’s seen dreams ripped right out from under those closest to him, leaving them with nothing.
Without a college degree, he’ll never take the risk of pursuing his real dream. But when he runs into the girl who took a mallet to his heart and stopped it beating, attending the same university might just be the biggest challenge he’s faced yet.
As the semester unfolds, the line between love and hate is blurred. And with the amount of baggage stacked between them, together is the last thing they want to be.
That’s the thing about hearts, though. They develop plans all on their own.
~ EXCERPT ~
Chapter Six
Boone
I only have an hour in between my workout and the film
session that the hitting coaches want us to attend.
My entire schedule since moving to Austin has been busy
as hell and completely out of whack. Between getting my class schedule figured
out, sprinting across campus to get to the buildings, dealing with my moving
company, figuring out where to park my car in front of my building, practicing
with the Triple-A affiliate team I was drafted to and everything in between …
I’m fucking wiped.
I’ve been scouted for the major leagues since my
sophomore year of high school, so I thought I’d been semi-prepared for what was
to come, but my mind feels like it has been put in a blender for the last two
weeks. I had so not been prepared. It was as if I was hobbling around in the
dark in my new reality, trying to grasp at things before they moved on me.
I needed to get it the fuck together. I am a professional
now and having a career as a professional baseball player would only get harder
from here.
From the few times I’d visited Austin for tournaments or
the odd family trip, I remember we’d gone to Big Cheese’s Grill. They boasted
the best burgers in town, and it was close enough to campus that the place was
always packed with students and professors alike.
I open the door to the restaurant while glancing at my
iWatch to check the calories versus fat burned during my workout.
And I slam right into a body.
I bounce back, shocked at the person who just rammed into
me. I fumble to hold on to them, to keep our gravity from sending both of us
flying. I fail, and the body falls backward, the door slamming into my back. I
absorb that blow and keep upright, thank God, or I would have been sprawled
flat on top of whoever just plowed into me.
“Seriously?! Watch where you’re going!” An angry,
high-pitched tone fills my ears.
My head is down, trying to collect its scrambled
thoughts, as I reach for whoever I just knocked to the ground. “I’m so sorry, I
didn’t realize you were coming out—”
The air and words leave me as I pull her up. Her hand is
still in mine as we stand face-to-face, my surprise mirrored back at me. Those
lips, the lashes, the eyes a rich, deep, soul-searching brown. The freckles
across the bridge of her nose that make her look more innocent than she
actually is.
A current of tension radiates back and forth between our
interlocked hands, and I can smell the glass of wine she must have just drunk
on her breath. It’s sweet with a bite of alcohol, and my mouth waters for a
drink. I haven’t thirsted for alcohol in five years, yet in one chance meeting,
Annabelle has me reaching for a bottle. She’s poison to me, makes me want to do
crazy things. I drop her hand as the thought crosses my mind, as if she’s
burned me.
“You should really watch where you’re going. Or did you
knock me down on purpose?” Annabelle sniffs.
I scoff, “Right, I often go around pushing women to the
ground on purpose. I see the cold hard ice hasn’t melted off your personality,
Annabelle.”
And a woman she is. So much more grown up than I
remembered her. She’d always been beautiful but gone was the gangliness of
teenage years. This is a woman who stands in front of me, curves abound and an
unseen knowledge of the world to match. I couldn’t help but get that jab in
there.
“And I see you’re just as focused on yourself as ever.
You never did care what anyone else was doing, did you, Boone?” She folds her
arms over her chest and my eyes stray to her boobs in a sizzle of heat between
us.
We’re like a bunch of children fighting like cats and
dogs out in the street. How can she still pull out every insecure and immature
trait within me? My brain is moving seconds slower than it usually does, and I
know I’m standing here staring too long. Even though I hate Annabelle Mills, I
can’t help but memorize every detail about her for the first time I’ve seen her
in about five years.
“Move.” Annabelle pushes past me, not using any manners,
and starts to stalk down the sidewalk.
Talk about rude. She’d always been aggressive, harsh, and
just a little bit more high-maintenance than any of the other girls. It’s what
had drawn me to her. And then seeing those glimpses of vulnerability, that’s
what had made me stay. It was addicting feeling like you were the only one who
got to see the nice side of the mean girl.
I should walk into the restaurant. I should pick up my
to-go order and drive back to my apartment where I’ll eat a quick lunch and
change and go to the practice facility.
But a flash of Annabelle in the bar the other night
dances through my head. And her callous words just now piss me off even more.
She always did have the perfect way of getting under my
skin and driving me wild. When I’m around her, I forget who I am. I turn into
some raging bull, with a fuse shorter than the bombs Itchy and Scratchy use on
each other.
The stupidest thing I could do right now? Stomp after
her, yelling, in the middle of a crowded downtown street.
So that’s exactly what I do.
“You really haven’t changed a bit!” Oh, fuck. What am I
doing?
Annabelle rolls around, her eyes sparking with rage.
“Nope, still the same cold, heartless bitch you dumped.”
“Yeah, like I said, I can see that.” Lord, my mama would
be so disappointed in me agreeing with a woman that she was a bitch.
“Well, no one said you had to be around it. You’re the
one who moved to my city. You’re welcome to leave.” She waves around like I
should just get out of here.
I fist my hands in my hair. Christ, she’s so aggravating.
“No can do, I’m getting paid to be here.”
She rolls her eyes. “Like I’m not? Have you watched TV
lately? Or did you take one too many fly balls to the head? I know there
weren’t a lot of brain cells in there to start.”
Fuck her. Now it’s time to really piss her off, get under
her skin like she’s under mine. “Oh, you mean that show you play house on or
whatever? They’ll get bored of you when the next eye-candy pageant queen comes
along.”
I swear Annabelle could spit nails at me if she willed it
right now. “You’re an asshole, Boone Graham. You’ve only ever cared about
yourself and where you want to be. It was silly of me to think you’d ever think
of someone but yourself.”
I drop the anvil. “Says the girl who cheated on me. Who
lost her virginity to another guy.”
People around us are starting to stare, to really look at
the two people arguing openly on the street. It’s not a good idea for me to
stick around any longer; people know who I am on a national level and being
seen fighting with a girl, who someone will inevitably social media stalk and
find out is my ex, is not good publicity.
Except I can’t stop staring into Annabelle’s eyes. They
are furious, yes, but there is something more there. I’ve really … hurt her.
I’m shocked, to be honest. I didn’t think I could remotely hurt this girl, who
self-identifies as a cold, heartless bitch.
But there it is. The raw flash, miss-it-if-you-blink
second of real pain that flickers through those mocha pools. I open my mouth to
say something, to take it back, maybe apologize, but she speaks first.
“You have no idea.”
Her tone pulls at my heartstrings, it’s low and somber.
And then she melts into the crowd, giving no explanation of what I have no idea
about.
CARRIE AARONS
Author of romance novels such as Red Card and Privileged, Carrie Aarons writes books that are just as swoon-worthy as they are sarcastic. A former journalist, she prefers the stories she dreams up, and the yoga pant dress code, much better.
When she isn't writing, Carrie is busy binging reality TV, having a love/hate relationship with cardio, and trying not to burn dinner. She lives in the suburbs of New Jersey with her husband, daughter and dog.
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