Measured Love (Sweet Steamy Nights Book 1) Read online

  Measured Love

  Sweet, Steamy Nights, Book One

  Haven Rose

  Copyright © 2020 Measured Love by Haven Rose

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This story is intended for mature audiences only.

  Cover by: Fanderclai Designs

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments and Dedication

  Dear Reader

  Blurb

  1. Emmett

  2. Kenna

  3. Kenna

  4. Emmett

  5. Kenna

  6. Kenna

  7. Kenna

  8. Emmett

  9. Kenna

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  Stay Connected

  About the Author

  More by Haven Rose

  Acknowledgments and Dedication

  To the creator of pizza. You are my hero.

  Dear Reader

  You may have noticed these books aren't our norm. The Sweet, Steamy Nights stories are an experiment in intimacy. When we think about what we want to read, it's characters who deeply love each other. Lately, we've heard a lot of "I just skim the sex scenes," so we thought…what if we wrote some that focus heavily on just the relationship? Sweet and Steamy was born. We hope you loved Emmett and Kenna (as well as Spencer/Gracie and Tristen/Lexie) and will come back for more in Sweetville next February.

  Kisses!

  Brynn, Haven, and Pixie

  Be Sure to Check Out the Other Two:

  Put a Ring on It by Pixie Chica – 08/26

  Postcards in the Sand by Brynn Paulin – 08/28

  Just a small-town girl…

  That she may be, but Kenna McBride doesn’t fit the rest of it. She has a great family, two best friends, and a classroom full of kids who adore her. I mean, sure her house is empty without someone to share it with, but none of the men she grew up with have ever interested her. If only…

  He’s tired of living on the road…

  Emmett Cole was at the top of his game, yet gladly left his baseball career behind following an injury, knowing there was more out there for him. He knew exactly where to start looking, too…Sweetville. He just never expected his soulmate to be his new neighbor nor to meet her the way he did.

  The deal of a lifetime…

  Seeing an opportunity, Emmett offers to help Kenna with her fixer-upper, confident he can make her fall in love with him before it’s finished. With both their moms on his side, he knows forever awaits them.

  And he has fourteen days to prove it.

  Warning: This book contains a Hero that isn’t afraid to share his feelings with his woman. What it doesn’t, drama. Just because you know this couple will get together and stay that way, doesn’t mean the journey still can’t be fun.

  Chapter One

  Emmett

  June 20th…

  My best friend, Grady, delayed leaving as much as he could, but he eventually had to get back on the road. His skepticism at my decision was obvious. He kept waiting for me to change my mind, sure it was an impulsive one and I'd see the error of my ways.

  The thing is, he couldn't be further from the truth. This was a long time coming, and the further I got from my home state, the better I felt.

  My focus since I was a kid was becoming a professional baseball player, something I maintained all through my career until I got injured. It wasn't being hurt that bothered me, though the pain was a bitch, it was the fact it could've been avoided if I'd been paying attention.

  Instead, I'd gotten caught unawares, my mind on the realization I didn't love the game as I once had. After getting x-rayed and going through therapy, I was relieved to learn it wasn't as bad as they'd first thought. But I was also disappointed because that could've been my out. It wasn't, so I made my own. I quietly finished the last month of the season, turning down any offers my agent brought to me. I was done.

  Another hard truth I had to face was I didn't really have any other talents. That was a hard pill to swallow. I spent some time with my family and their unwavering acceptance and support gave me clarity.

  Outside of playing, some of my happiest memories are working with my dad and paternal grandpa fixing things. Construction. Once I healed and was given the all clear, every spare moment I had, I returned to my roots.

  Those jobs were satisfying in a way baseball hadn't been. Not better, different. I'd found my purpose.

  My parents, Winston and Greta, and grandparents were thrilled, thinking my retirement meant I'd finally be home more frequently. No more living out of hotels. They were right about part of it. I wanted a home, but it wasn't going to be in Briarwood, Montana. There was only one place I could see myself living, and it was Sweetville, a small midwestern town my team had gone through once while taking a bus to an away game. Our stop had lasted long enough to refuel and hit the bathrooms, but in that short span I'd been able to breathe for the first time in too long.

  That never left me, and the memory of it got me through some rough times. Which sounds weird, but I'd never been a drinker, so drowning my sorrows was out. Screwing anything on legs wasn't my style either, unlike a lot of my teammates. Women were a distraction I didn't need or want. My hand got the job done, pun intended, without any of the possible complications. Ones I'd seen some of the others endure because they couldn't keep it in their pants.

  I had too much respect for myself and others to do crap like that. Not to mention my mom would be disappointed in me.

  Boxes are scattered about my new place, nothing is put away, and yet I'm happy. Until I hear a scream from what sounds like the house next to me.

  I take off, my knee only giving a slight twinge at the sudden movement following the workout it got today. It may have healed, but it'll never be one hundred percent again. I’ve learned my limitations, even if I don’t always heed them.

  "Get out of my house!" That's definitely a woman. Not the way I'd envisioned meeting one of my neighbors, but that can't be helped as she's obviously in trouble. I burst through the door, fists raised in preparation to save her, when I discover her "attacker" is actually a spider.

  "That's a big mother," I mutter. She whirls so fast she almost loses her balance. That's when I notice the hammer in her hand.

  "I know, " she replies, "that's why I'm trying to nail it." That's said as she imitates the action, her smile one of satisfaction as she visualizes it. I chuckle, though a part of me can't help but picture her giving me the same type after I've had my way with her. Or she had hers with me. My body is suddenly intent on making up for lost time as long as it's with her. We’re in the midst of a moment that we’ll share with many generations to come when the spider changes direction and beginnings scurrying toward us. Without hesitation, I grab her hand and pull her toward the door, down the porch, and to the middle of her front yard. Neither of us are winded despite how q
uickly we got the hell outta there, but we are both glancing around, as if making sure it didn’t follow us. She giggles then and observes, “Guess you won’t be taking care of it for me?”

  Can’t have my woman, and yes, that’s what she will be, thinking I can’t vanquish her enemies, so I declare, “Of course, I will.” Flexing my arms, letting her know I’ve got this, I instantly crack up when she points out that I’m with her instead of inside where the beast of burden is. Thinking fast, I defend myself with, “Had to get you to safety first.” On that note, I drop a kiss on her forehead, her gasp ringing in my ears as I walk back toward my doom. Err, that of the trespasser. Yeah. I can beat a spider. I’m bigger than it. Barely. Though it has eight good legs and I’m currently dealing with maybe one and a half because I pushed too hard earlier.

  “Go, you!” She hollers, reminding me she doesn’t know my name yet. I change that, stumbling a bit when she corrects herself, “Go, Emmett!” Her pronunciation lingers a beat longer on the first syllable, making it sound like “mmm.” So entranced by that, I don’t realize right away that she didn’t recognize me. To her, I’m just a spider slayer, a neighbor that she can borrow sugar from and vice versa.

  She sees me.

  I see you, too, baby.

  **Kenna**

  “Don’t die,” I holler as he disappears. I mean, good should always triumph over evil, so my money is on Emmett, but that was not a normal arachnid. Not even two seconds later, I’m unashamedly bouncing up and down, trying to sneak a peek through the screen portion of my door at him fighting valiantly for my honor.

  “You won’t take me alive!” I hear him shout. Whether he’s doing so for laughs, I don’t know, but he’s getting them regardless. Just my luck, the first man to interest me in ever and he could succumb to the monster trying to usurp my property. I wonder if he’ll be okay with my tendency to be a little melodramatic? “Fair maiden,” Emmett calls from the porch where he’s standing, hands on hips, with a smug smile, “I have vanquished my enemy. ‘Tis time to claim my reward.” It seems he will be and not only that, but he’ll play along, too.

  I swear my heart sighs with happiness at his willingness to be silly. “And what would that be kind sir?”

  He walks toward me, my gaze soaking in his long legs. I want to write a thank you note and send a fruit basket or something to the creator of the shorts he’s wearing. A finger glides down my cheek, a thumb tracing over my lips. I’m sure he’s going to ask for a kiss and I’m eager to give it. But he doesn’t.

  “Let me take you on a date?”

  Sure my eyes are twinkling, I say, “That sounds like I’m being rewarded. What do you get out of that?”

  “Time with you.”

  Chapter Two

  Kenna

  June 21st…

  “You have a date?” My mom, Lorna, asks with excitement. I nod. “Does he want kids?”

  “Mom!” I admonish her. “I just met the man. Can you hold off on the grandchildren for at least a week?”

  “Pshaw,” she states, adding, “I’m not getting any younger.”

  “You’re not even sixty.”

  “Fine then,” she responds. “You aren’t.”

  “I just turned twenty-six.”

  “And last year you were twenty-five, next you’ll be twenty-seven.”

  “Scare tactics, really?” I swear she cackles.

  “Ella has a grandbaby with another on the way.” Ahh, friends they may be, but they still have a competition that nobody acknowledges yet everyone knows about.

  “Mom, her son has almost a decade on me,” I remind her. She shrugs, as if that fact changes nothing. I’d get upset if this wasn’t coming from a need to see me as happy as she and my dad, Peter, are. They met and married young and planned to have a house full of kids, but it took them years to conceive me and though they tried to have more, it wasn’t meant to be.

  My dad is a force to be reckoned with. His size is intimidating, as is his tendency to scowl when not with his family. I’ve seen many of the male population, my age and above, give him a wide birth. It’s a classic case of how you shouldn’t judge based on appearance. Around us, he’s a huge teddy bear. Always smiling, laughing, affectionate. But that’s a side he reserves only for us. Mom said when her parents first met him my grandma was hesitant because he seemed angry, until Mom had accidentally burned herself on a hot pan helping with dinner. My dad panicked at the mere thought of her being hurt, yet he remained calm and immediately tended to her, going so far as to hold her uninjured hand while ensuring the other stayed iced. Apparently, Grandma saw how careful he was with her, the love he had for Mom shining through in his actions, and she gave her blessing then and there. Within a week, the day after mom turned eighteen, they were engaged. Less than a month later, they were married.

  Their story is that of fairy tales, the kind little girls dream of. And I’m no different. I want that, too. But when you know all the boys from the time they’re born, or close to it, it’s difficult to see them as anything other than a friend. Emmett isn’t from here, my subconscious reminds me all while mentally high-fiving me.

  “I want to meet my future son-in-law.” I visualize banging my head on the wall at her unwillingness to chill.

  “Haven’t even had a date yet,” I sing-song.

  “How could he not fall in love with you? It’s a done deal.” She may drive me nuts, but her unwavering confidence in me never fails to make me teary eyed. With a kiss to her cheek, I promise to call her later and tell her how it went.

  As I close the door, I hear her humming the Wedding March. When I return home and begin getting ready, I find myself doing the same thing.

  This is ridiculous. I can’t know he’s the one for me this soon.

  Can I?

  **Emmett**

  “You weren’t this nervous in the final game of the playoffs,” I remind myself. We were three runs behind with the bases loaded and down to our final out. The batter needed a grand slam to win the game, a feat he’d never accomplished during his career up to that point. But he did that day.

  With that memory fresh in my brain, I walk across my lawn only to stop and retrace my steps to yank some of the wildflowers out that surround my porch. Now that I have a gift – my mom hates going somewhere empty-handed and she’d smack me upside my head if I picked up my date that way – I once more move toward her house, but this time with haste. Thank goodness my knee has recovered. I learned my lesson and took an easy on it today. Knocking on Kenna’s door, my earlier pep talk is forgotten the second she opens it. She’s wearing some kind of dress that makes her look sexy and innocent at the same time. How does she do that? Is she magic? My heart gives a little thump, telling me I already know the answer to that.

  “Did you just skip over here?”

  Not at all embarrassed she saw me do so, I nod. Then I point out, “You could only know that if you’d been watching for me.” I laugh when she blushes and decide to see if it darkens the more she does it. “I was anxious to see my girl.” Nope, it spreads, causing me to groan at the mental image that conjures up.

  “Your girl?” She asks.

  “Sorry,” I quickly apologize. “I meant no disrespect. My dad has called my mom that for as long as I can remember.”

  “I wasn’t saying I didn’t like it,” she immediately corrects me. “But how can you call me that when you don’t even know my last name?” With a triumphant grin, I tell her it’s Cole. “No, it isn’t.”

  “It will be,” I inform her, moving closer and invading her space.

  “Well, I guess I don’t need to ask yours.”

  “Nope, but we have a few things to handle before that stage.”

  She giggles, enjoying our banter. “Such as?”

  “First, what’s the best place to eat around here?”

  “My mom’s kitchen.”

  “I’m in,” I respond, more than happy to meet her parents.

  “Maybe for the second date,” she hedges, sudden
ly shy. Letting that rest for now, I thrust my hand out, offering her the bouquet. Kenna stuffs her nose in them and takes a deep breath, a sigh leaving her as she takes in the scent. “No one has ever given me flowers,” she whispers. I vow then and there to give them to her every single day.

  ———

  As we enter the local diner, we’re both greeted by name. This doesn’t faze Kenna at all. Me, on the other hand, I freeze in shock, making Kenna laugh. She tells me I’ll get used to it and exchanges chit chat with the older woman as they walk toward a table. I get my butt in gear and follow them, hurrying in order to pull Kenna’s chair out for her.

  “Well, aren’t you a gentleman?” The woman states. “Your mama raised you right.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I say.

  “None of that nonsense, young man. I’m Ella.” She points to the menu, more specifically the part that labels the place Ella’s Eats. “I’ve known Kenna her whole life, and as her honorary aunt,” I glance at Kenna and see her lips twitching, “it’s my duty to ask what your intentions are with her.” Kenna is not amused now. In fact, her arms are crossed on the table as she currently tries to bury her head in them.

  If Ella wants to be blunt, I can do the same. “I’m going to marry her.”

  From her awful hiding spot – I bet she always lost at hide and seek – I hear Kenna groan. She raises enough for me to see her eyes. “Why would you do that?”