A-List F*ck Club: Part 4 Read online

Jules raises a brow. “What did you ask him.”

  “A big question. The big one.”

  Her eyebrows raise, and she bites back a smile.

  “Look, Jules,” I say, pulling her toward me, squaring our shoulders so we face one another. The cornfields are before us, and it’s like a sea of possibility and it is fucking beautiful, this place and this life and this possibility—especially in light of the last few months. Losing so damn much—but still, we found one another.

  I clear my throat and start again, “Look, I don’t want to offend you, but I want to say something.”

  She nods telling me to go ahead.

  “It took awhile to understand what kept bringing you back to this land, but now I think I know. You haven’t found your thing. And coming back to what you know is easier than stepping out and finding something new.”

  Instead of pushing back, like she did before when her dad tried to talk with her about this she just smirks and hands me a letter. “Seems like everyone who loves me, figured out the same thing.” When I narrow my eyes in confusion she hands me an envelope and says, “Read this.”

  I unfold the paper and read a handwritten letter.

  I feel myself welling up with emotion as I read her Grandma’s last words to her. It was dated the day before she died.

  “That’s beautiful,” I tell her.

  She nods. “I never thought of it like that, I just thought, I love it here. This is home. Where I belong. And when I got to LA, I so quickly knew that was not where I belong. But the truth is, I’ve never been anywhere else. Seen anything else. And maybe there is more. And maybe there isn’t, but if I don’t try again, if I run back home after the first fall, what sort of woman will I be?”

  “The truth is, Jules, I haven’t stepped out either. I’ve lived a safe life just like you. Just had more money while I lived it. But since the day my parents died, I started hiding. Let my world get smaller until it was a cocoon that nearly killed me. A cocoon that did kill Sawyer. I need more. We need more.”

  “You better not be breaking up with me.”

  I shake my head. “I’m too much of a romantic for that.”

  “You know that the idea that the man who ran a fuck club considers himself a romantic is pretty messed up?”

  “See,” I say, grinning. “That’s what I mean. We need to go to Paris. Tuscany. We need to expand our romantic horizons.”

  “Leaving my dad seems scary. He’s the only family I have left.”

  I run my hand over my jaw, wanting to be her family too. Maybe she isn’t ready for this, for a leap with me.

  “But,” she continues, “I think that me giving him space to live his life might be a good thing. He’s not even fifty, has never had a house without another woman living in it. Moving in with him might cramp his style. I mean, maybe he wants to get married again.”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Could you handle that?”

  “I think so,” she says slowly. “Honestly, after reading Grandma’s letter I feel freer than I have in a long time. Maybe forever.”

  “Then I guess there’s no time like the present.” I reach into my pocket and pull out my mother’s diamond engagement ring. “I love you, Jules. And I want to take a chance and see what might happen next. I want to be your partner. Your best friend. You lover. Your protector. I want to be your husband.”

  She covers her mouth. “This was the big question?”

  I nod.

  “And paying for the farm, was it like a modern day dowry?”

  I shake my head. “I think dowries go the other way. And this wasn’t that. This was a way to give us all that we want.” I take her hand in mine, kissing her knuckles, her fingers, her wrist. “Marry me, Jules. Be my wife.”

  And then she says yes.

  She wraps her arms around me. Pulling herself onto my lap. She covers my face in kisses and grinds against me, instantly revving me up.

  “Yes, Levi Callahan Mallone. I will marry you.”

  I grin, starting to slip the ring on her finger, but she pulls back.

  “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ve still never taken me on a proper, pick me up at eight, bring flowers, make reservations, date.”

  “Is there a restaurant we can make reservations at in Resting Hollow?”

  She shakes her head. “In Paris. The Eiffel Tower.”

  I smile at the woman I love, who has changed my sorry life for the better, knowing I no longer need a fuck club—all I need is her.

  “Damn, you’re ready to take a leap, all right.”

  “With you? Yes, Cal, I am.”

  Epilogue

  One year later...

  The sun is hot as fuck, but luckily, there’s a hell of a lot of spiked lemonade to keep everyone cool. Also, everything feels a little hotter when you have a woman as gorgeous as Jules walking down the aisle, headed straight to you.

  The farm is beautiful, I’ve helped Jules’ father by investing in new farming equipment, a crew, and updated technology, which has allowed him to have his most profitable year in two decades. And this place looks fucking top-notch—as it should for my bride’s wedding day.

  There is nowhere either of us could imagine getting married besides this farm—and that’s saying a hell of a lot after a year long whirlwind, around-the-world adventure. We started in Paris, and then found ourselves in wine country, stayed for a month long course on wine. And had lots of sex.

  After that, we were ready to focus on something besides one another. In Asia, we fell in love with China, and we spent the fall volunteering at an orphanage. It was hard work, but I helped build a playground and Jules worked in a nursery, holding babies and helping with laundry and meals.

  We went south for the winter, found a non-profit animal rescue farm that needed help in Papua New Guinea. We helped muck stalls, loaded bales of hay, and fed the animals—something Jules did with pride, saying her childhood at her family farm was being put to good use.

  But besides being do-gooders, we also had plenty of fuck club inspired fun… My baby blew me in Belarus, and we role-played in Rome. We tried butt-plugs in Bolivia and cracked out the handcuffs in Hungary.

  Then we spent a month in LA, visiting our friends. Jordan has gotten the new club up and running—a premiere Oceanside oasis for the rich and famous. But it is everything the Fuck Club wasn’t. White and gold and bright. No walls anywhere but the bathrooms.

  He says there are still lots of hookups.

  And Jules tells me his favorite hookup is with Collette. And Gretchen.

  Apparently, they are the hottest ménage in LA.

  I was surprised as fuck; I had never known Jordan’s type—but if it is two hot as hell supermodels, I guess he ain’t doing too bad.

  But that wasn’t the biggest shock this year.

  Not by a long shot.

  I smile down the aisle, Jules is in white, her body a piece of art in this gown—the one her own mother wore on her wedding day.

  She beams back at me, her father walking her down the aisle. A cellist serenades us, and I watch as Jules takes in the people standing, watching her walk toward me.

  Gretchen, Collette, and Jordan are here. Along with Sophia and Henry, Sawyer’s parents. They sit next to Sadie, who we first met when she was the bartender at Dusty’s, but now has her newborn daughter in her arms.

  My best man leans over. “Who would’ve fucking thought? The two of us, in a cornfield.”

  I grin. “Married, no less.”

  Sawyer nods. “She’s lucky to have you, Cal.”

  Sawyer was the surprise I never saw coming.

  I look at my bride. “Not nearly as lucky as I am.”

  “You’re such a fucking sap.”

  I look at Jules, a vision in white, and don’t care who thinks of me as a sappy romantic.

  I hope I always am.

  Johnny gives me his daughter, and hand in hand, Jules and I make our vows.

  To h
ave and to hold.

  To death do us part.

  Our eyes both flick to Sawyer at that word.

  Because death can be a tricky thing.

  A painful thing.

  Jules’ mother and grandma, both of my parents, they were all buried and never came back.

  But that’s not true for everyone.

  Life is like that, there are very few guarantees.

  As the priest tells me to kiss my bride though, I lift the veil, looking into Jules’ eyes, and now there is one thing I can always count on.

  The love we share.

  And if you can find love at a place like the A-List Fuck Club, it’s the real fucking deal.

  That is a goddamn guarantee.

  DEAR READER, YEP, YOU READ THAT RIGHT.

  SAWYER IS ALIVE!!!

  LEARN HOW THIS MISUNDERSTOOD HERO COMES BACK FROM THE DEAD IN

  SMALL TOWN FUCK CLUB

  RELEASING JUNE 2017!

  Also by Frankie Love

  THE ENTIRE FRANKIE LOVE COLLECTION

  A-List F*ck Club:

  Part 1

  Part 2

  Part 3

  Part 4

  The Mountain Man’s Babies:

  TIMBER

  BUCKED

  WILDER

  HONORED

  CHERISHED

  The Modern-Mail Order Brides:

  CLAIMED BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN

  ORDERED BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN

  WIFED BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN

  EXPLORED BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN

  An Arranged Marriage Romance:

  COURTED BY THE MOUNTAIN PRINCE

  CHARMED BY THE MOUNTAIN PRINCE

  CROWNED BY THE MOUNTAIN PRINCE

  Las Vegas Bad Boys:

  ACE

  KING

  MCQUEEN

  JACK

  Los Angeles Bad Boys:

  COLD HARD CASH

  HOLLYWOOD HOLDEN

  SAINT JUDE

  THE COMPLETE COLLECTION

  Stand-Alone Romance:

  KINKY RESOLUTIONS

  WILD AND TRUE

  Stand-Alone Bad Boy:

  BIG BAD WOLF

  Stand-Alone Mountain Men:

  MISTLETOE MOUNTAIN: A MOUNTAIN MAN’S CHRISTMAS

  HEART OF GOLD: A MOUNTAIN MAN’S VALENTINE

  HIS LUCKY CHARM: AN IRISH MOUNTAIN MAN

  ❤️❤️❤️

  About the Author

  Frankie Love writes sexy stories about bad boys and mountain men. As a thirty-something mom to six who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters. She also believes in the power of a quickie.

  Find Frankie here:

  Frankie Love

  www.frankielove.net

  [email protected]