The Bucket List Read online

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  Copyright © 2012 by Gynger Fyer

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.

  This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by

  Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 61

  Colfax, NC 27235

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  Cover Art: Marteeka Karland

  http://www.marteekakarland.com/

  Editor: Barb Wilson

  Proofreader: Novellette Whyte

  http://authorgurunovellette.blogspot.com/

  Formatter: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  E-book Conversion: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  ISBN: (e-book) 978-1-61788-269-2; (print) 978-1-61788-270-8

  I would like to dedicate this story to those who have loved, supported and encouraged me along the way.

  ~THE MUSCLE~

  The Jeanie and Jayha, along with the entire BTP family: you all ROCK! Thank you for welcoming me with open arms and giving me a chance to make my dreams come true. Special thanks to everyone who had a hand in getting this story out to the masses.

  ~THE BACK BONE~

  Victoria Thomas, Rita Smith, Cassandra Battle, Rhonda Benson, Darlene Anderson, Kelly Jenkins. Thanks for being my sisters by blood and by spirit.

  ~THE HEART~

  To my beautiful and funny mother; Ila, who has been there for me always cheering me on. This is that Ace you always told me to have. LOL. Lastly, to my daughter; Lauren, you are my raison d'être: reason for being. I love you π (pi).

  ~THE BODY~

  To my readers: Thank you so much for allowing me to entertain you with my story. I know you could have purchased books by other writers so I am grateful you chose mine. Enjoy!

  NOTE ABOUT EBOOKS

  eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author or Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

  CAVEAT

  This work may contain adult language and sexually explicit scenes. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.

  Chapter One

  Grace scribbled on a crisp sheet of paper, her teeth worrying the plump flesh of her bottom lip as she sat in the waiting area of Wolf Automotive and Detailing, waiting for her oil change to be done. She had been over and over the list. She knew it by heart at this point, but as the time drew near, she had to admit her nerves were starting to get the better of her. She unconsciously swayed her crossed leg as her mind raced from thought to thought. Really, who in their ever-loving mind would do something as foolish and irresponsible as what she was contemplating. It had seemed so wild and adventurous when she’d compiled the list of all the things she wanted to do before she “kicked the bucket.” Her mind drifted back to that evening nearly two months ago, just before New Year’s Eve…

  She was a member of an Orlando area, all-female accountants Meet-Up group. It was her good friend Tia’s turn to plan the next event and, in typical Tia style, she chose dinner at A Drop in the Bucket; a restaurant which encouraged its patrons to live life to the fullest by creating their own bucket list. Every table came equipped with pencils and strips of paper so its patrons could compile their lists. As a souvenir, each guest received their own eight-ounce wooden bucket for their list. The atmosphere was trendy, catering to the twenty- and thirty-something crowd.

  Adjoining the restaurant, there was also a late-night lounge, open and rocking hard until three a.m.

  Her bucket list was born in the lounge just after midnight the day before New Year’s Eve. Honestly, it was nothing more than a fantasy list, concocted in the midst of a bunch of rowdy, semi-drunk accountants, trying to outdo each other with the most outrageous and incredible items possible.

  Four of the twelve women from the group decided to have drinks in the lounge. Grace was going to head home too but Tia talked her into staying. The music in the lounge was a mixture of current pop/rock/and R&B hits which the DJ wickedly blended into one continuous dance party mix. Their comfortable sitting area was on a slightly raised platform, giving them a great view overlooking the dancers below in the busy lounge.

  Tia encouraged them all to pull out their lists and read what they had written so far. Grace had only written two things: go to Mardi Gras, and learn to kayak. Most of the ladies had similar, staid, achievable items, but what Grace considered achievable, Tia proclaimed to be boring. She pointed out how the things on their lists were average, everyday hobbies and encouraged them to think bigger.

  As glasses emptied, inhibitions lowered, items which started out mild, like running a marathon, got more daring, such as skiing or buying a motorcycle. Around one a.m., the items had morphed into more risky, grandiose endeavors with shooting guns and learning to pole dance being bandied about.

  The more wine Grace drank, the looser her tongue became. Whoever said liquor made someone act bold had forgotten to mention another side effect; it also made someone act stupid. Looking back on it now, she could only blame the alcohol and the steady diet of erotic and romance novels which she’d been nearly inhaling since her Christmas vacation began. The heroines were either the strong, confident, badass types or the shy, good girl, ready to try something bold and kinky.

  In her mind, she fell somewhere in between the two types. She never intended to do any of the things she had written down that night, but Tia made them all promise to reunite in three months and they all had to have accomplished at least three items on their list. If they failed to deliver, they would have to give one hundred dollars to anyone who completed their item. The challenge appealed to her competitive nature as well as her financially frugal side.

  “Grace!”

  Grace’s head jerked up at the sound of her name. She’d been so caught up in her memories, she had forgotten where she was. She looked into the concerned eyes of Julio, the stout mechanic who managed Wolf Automotive and Detailing.

  “Hey, Grace, are you okay?”

  “Hey Julio, yes, I’m fine I was just thinking about something, that’s all.” She smiled and waved away his concern.

  “I hear you. Listen, your oil change is almost done, but Brett wants to talk to you… He’s in his office.”

  Grace inwardly cringed at the request but kept the smile on her face.

  Brett was the owner of Wolf Automotive. He was also one of her clients. Their relationship had started out as strictly professional. He was an up-and-coming pro wrestler and her firm had been hired by his business manager and mentor to invest and grow his earnings. Their business relationship turned out to be highly lucrative as the cocky newcomer turned into pro wrestling royalty.

  Despite her attempts to keep Brett in the client category, he eventually managed to seep into nearly all aspects of her life. What could she say; men who were smart, sexy, and had a good sense of humor were
like catnip to her. Knowing this, she deliberately tried to keep him at a distance, but over time her defenses slowly eroded. Business lunches turned into casual lunches, and then casual lunches turned into pizza at her place.

  Before she knew it, they were almost like best friends…except for the annoying habit he had of flirting with her but she’d nipped that in the bud when she threatened to turn over his account to another associate and end their friendship altogether. Yes, she probably wouldn’t have done it, but hell, it was the only way she could stop him from using his charms on her. They’d shared many memorable moments together, some more pleasant then others, but at the end of the day, she was never willing to enter into anything more then a deep friendship with him.

  Then there was “that night” last year after her father’s heart attack. She’d been an emotional wreck and he was the first person she called. He was there, for not only her, but her entire family. Later “that night” she’d cried on his shoulder while he rubbed her back and before she knew it, she was kissing him for all she was worth. It had only lasted a moment and she’d regained a measure of control before things had gotten too out of hand, but the dynamic in their relationship had already changed. Ever since that night, Brett had become overbearing. Okay, so maybe “overbearing” was a strong word, but he definitely was more insistent on them getting together and she wasn’t having any of it. He acted like she owed him explanations for everything she did.

  The last time she spoke to Brett, they argued about how he felt she’d been distancing herself from him since “that night”. It’d been nearly a week since that conversation. She had put him on “hiatus,” which meant she cut off all communication. Currently, she was dodging his calls, text messages, e-mails and Facebook messages. She would have gone elsewhere for her oil change but she hadn’t seen his car out front so she thought she could discreetly get in and out without him knowing it. Because of their client relationship, her oil changes were free. Curse her frugal nature!

  “Thanks, Julio.”

  He flashed Grace a sympathetic smile, which told her Brett was in rare form today. She would stay neutral.

  “Well, here goes,” she murmured as she stood up, smoothing the sides of her ebony hair swept up in a high pony tail, and took the familiar path to the back of the bustling automotive repair and detailing complex. She waved and chatted with some of the staff along the way. She’d gotten to know all of them over the years. Grace reached his door before she knew it.

  Brett’s office was at the end of an isolated hall, which allowed privacy; something she didn’t need with him right now. She smoothed her hands over her freshly pressed locks again, and tugged on the jacket of her hot pink jogging suit.

  You are a grown woman, for crying out loud. He can’t bully you. You will not argue with him. You will be civil. Brett has no power over you…or your body.

  Her sex throbbed as if to say, “You’re a damn liar.”

  So much for her pep talk to herself!

  Chapter Two

  “You seriously want to do this stuff?”

  Hazel green eyes zeroed in on her face. Grace tried to snatch the list out of Brett’s hand, but at six foot three, he had her five foot five frame at a disadvantage. Grace decided to stop trying to grab it, since she was already embarrassed beyond belief; she was sure they looked like kids playing keep-away as he dangled the list just out of her reach. After all, she had come into his shop to discuss her car, not her sex life.

  “Look, Brett, it’s none of your concern. Now, please, give me back my list. A gentleman wouldn’t have read it anyway.”

  She’d hoped her tone held enough frost to get him to see that she was serious. Grace cursed herself for dropping the list in the first place. She had forgotten she was holding the list as she entered the office. She’d been so turned on by him standing in the doorway, her inner klutz had popped out and she tripped over her own feet. Her purse and the list went crashing to the floor when she put her hands out to stop her fall.

  Brett had quickly caught her, pinning her to his solid body. She stayed pinned to him, her back to his front, her chest rising and falling from the excitement of her near mishap. She could feel his heat and strength surrounding her as his chest muscles contracted and expanded against her back.

  His arm was like a vice around her waist and she wished for the thousandth time that she had a little more curves and cushion for him to hold on to. The women in her family were average for the most part; average height, average shapes, but they all had large, firm breasts. She just wished she had been blessed with a butt to at least balance the breasts out. She was no brick house, by any stretch of the imagination. She reluctantly moved out of his hold, proud that she was only slightly trembling.

  Brett slowly released her, reached down and picked up her purse and the paper. She reached for her purse as he scanned the paper and that was when all hell broke loose.

  “I don’t know why you would think I was a gentleman in the first place, and I’m sorry but the words ‘one night stand’ tend to stick out, especially when it’s in your handwriting.”

  He crossed his massive arms over his equally massive chest and Grace backed up.

  Brett was that guy who had it all, in her opinion—thick mahogany tresses which curled slightly and fell just above his massive shoulders, sloping forehead which caused his hazel eyes to look hooded and mysterious, a prominent nose that would have seemed overly long and large on any other man, but balanced his rugged face, making him look stoic and manly. His skin had a healthy, tanned appearance.

  The cherry on top of it all was the tiny patch of hair he allowed to grow just below his bottom lip. Not only was he one sexy package but everything about him screamed male. His skin glowed with health and vitality, and his body was in tip-top condition from his years in professional wrestling. As usual when in Brett’s vicinity, her body was on high alert, primed and ready. She stayed wet around this man.

  She constantly reminded herself that he was more than his appearance. She liked to focus on his personality to keep from falling all over him, like every other woman did. Brett was not just good-looking; he was a smart and confident man.

  When he wanted something, he knew just what to say and how to say it in order to have things his way. Many people underestimated him, thinking he was just some big, dumb wrestler. What they didn’t know was how street-smart he was. He could not afford college so he’d kicked around until he landed in pro wrestling. Brett never gave in, he never gave up, and he played to win.

  The “Wolf” brand was only worth a few hundred thousand dollars when they met, but with her head for numbers and his shrewd marketing decisions, they had grown his money exponentially. At the same time, she turned down his advances. Mixing business and pleasure was a no-no in her book.

  It was the first piece of advice her parents had given her when she started her first job right out of college. They were also accountants and knew the pit-falls which could face a single woman handling accounts with balances that would tempt a saint to sin, especially when the owners of those balances were celebrities.

  Brett’s eye’s never left hers. He had sized her up from the moment she walked through the door, looking at her in a hungry way that would have been lascivious if another man had done it, but not with Brett. Damn, he looked at her as if he had a right to undress her with his eyes, and she let him.

  Grace looked around his office, trying to stall. The walls of Brett‘s office were covered with pictures. Some were of him posing with other professional wrestlers. There were also live action shots of Brett in the ring as well as calendars and framed magazine articles. He even had several championship belts prominently displayed inside glass-covered shadow boxes.

  Behind his desk were his more personal pictures, mostly of his five brothers and his mom. One was of him and Grace surrounded by his family and his managers. That one had been taken the day he retired from wrestling, nearly three years prior. He was smaller now, more solid muscle,
but he was still massive and could make you think twice about crossing him when he gave you that “don’t fuck with me” vibe.

  However, that was not the vibe he was giving her at the moment. It was the “explain-this-shit-right-now-or-else” vibe she was getting. He was leaning against his desk, jeans molded to thickly muscled thighs, green polo shirt clinging to a chest and arms that flexed enticingly with his movements.

  Damn, she was losing focus again. The list; she needed the list back.

  “Brett, it’s just a joke.”

  “So you’re not going to do any of it?” he asked as he looked at her skeptically.

  What was this, the principal’s office? She was a grown woman, and she could do whatever the hell she liked.

  “I am going to do a few of them and it’s still none of your business,” she sassed him back, congratulating herself on her bravado.

  “You’re going to Mardi Gras to pick up some guy to fuck, and it is not my business? What planet are you living on?”

  He was waving the paper in her face, and Grace picked that moment to pluck the list from his fingers. She didn’t have to explain her reasons to anyone. Especially Brett “The Wolf” McAllister.

  “That’s not the only thing on this list! I might not even get to that.”

  She was facing him toe to toe now…okay, actually more like she was looking up into his face as he tried to intimidate her with his height and size. She couldn’t care less, because she wasn’t backing down.

  “As if the other things are any better! Find a guy to screw, flash your tits for beads, get drunk on Hurricane drinks on Bourbon Street and get a tattoo!”

  Okay, so it all sounded pretty silly when he said it like that, but her pride would not admit it. Her mind was made up. She was tired of living cautiously.

  “Damn it, there were also other things on the list, too, like go to a concert at the House of Blues and…eat crawfish and dance to zydeco music. Besides, I know you’re not lecturing me on tattoos when you have a wolf the size of a dinner plate tattooed on your chest! Not to mention the number of women you have screwed; I won’t even go there.”