Worth Any Price, page 1
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, places, and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by Nika Rhone
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be scanned, uploaded, reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
Book Cover Design by 100 Covers
Published by Park Nine Publishing
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
Sneak Peek of Boulder Beaumonts Book 2
Also By Nika Rhone
About the Author
All that glitters is not gold.
Chapter 1
It was all kinds of wrong to lust after your son’s martial arts instructor.
Even as she reminded herself of that fact for the third time, Amber Lovett shifted against the wall to get a better look at the man in question. Tall, trim, dressed in dark blue sweatpants and a baby blue t-shirt that made him appear entirely too edible for any woman’s peace of mind, he stalked through the double line of kids checking form. He gave gentle correction when needed, praise where warranted, demonstrations when requested.
A happy little hum escaped her as a stretch of his arms doing just that pulled the tee tight across his back, emphasizing the flexing of lean muscles underneath.
Lordy, lordy.
It might be wrong, but he sure was making it hard to stop.
Besides, she’d come here to check the man out, hadn’t she?
All right, not exactly like this.
When Derek first mentioned the man who’d stepped in to take over the class after Sensei Steve broke his leg, she hadn’t paid too much attention. The only thing that mattered was knowing the community center’s twice-a-week program her son adored wouldn’t be cancelled. But after weeks of listening to Mister Rick this and Mister Rick that, she’d needed to come down and have a look for herself what all the fuss was about.
And boy, was she ever glad she did. The man was fine.
Dark brown hair with a slight wave in its thick depths framed a face that could only be classified as classically masculine, with chiseled cheekbones and a firm jaw emphasized by the hint of five o’clock shadow covering it. For such a tall man, his movements were graceful and precise, almost like a dancer moving across the stage.
Or a big cat prowling the savannah.
Obviously, none of that was why Derek seemed to worship the ground the man walked on. Since he didn’t normally warm up to strangers easily, his sudden fixation had been a little worrisome. No one liked to think the worst, but she knew better than most that sometimes people weren’t who or what they seemed to be. Better to be suspicious than caught by surprise.
Especially when it came to Derek.
Her gaze went instinctively to her son. In the second row, amidst the twenty or so other kids, he was noticeably smaller than almost all of them. Even though at ten he was squarely in the middle of the eight-to-twelve age range for the class. A sharp thorn of concern wormed its way into her brain like it always did.
Was he getting the right amount of protein? Enough exercise and fresh air?
Was she failing somehow as a mother?
“Just a slow grower,” his pediatrician had assured her at his last check-up. “Nothing to do with his health or asthma and everything to do with genetics. He’ll have a growth spurt before you know it. Nothing to worry about.”
Yeah, easy for him to say.
She was always going to worry about her baby. They’d been all the other had for so long now, she didn’t know any other way.
In her head, she knew the doctor was right. Just like she knew she couldn’t keep holding a monopoly on her son’s social life. Like it or not, he needed a chance to stretch his wings without his mommy helicoptering over him. Which was why after nervously observing the first class with Sensei Steve to make sure it wasn’t too strenuous for him, she’d stayed away, much as it killed her to.
Of course, if Sensei had looked anything like Mister Rick and his very biteable ass, she might have found it a lot harder to stick to those good intentions.
Mind out of the gutter, Amber Lee.
Easier said than done when the ass in question was currently aimed in her direction as he demonstrated some kind of kick that both started and ended in a half-squat position.
Day-am.
Why couldn’t he wear the baggy white uniform Sensei did instead of sweats that pulled taut against his delicious butt with every downward thrust? Maybe then she wouldn’t have to mop up the mental drool currently running down her chin.
Okay, time to go. The last thing she needed was him to notice her skulking in the corner like a pervy stalker.
With the class’s attention focused on their instructor, she slipped from the room. Not taking one last look at heaven was tough, but she managed. Barely. She grinned to herself. It had been such a long time since she’d done anything but look, she wasn’t sure she’d know what to do if she ever got the chance to do more.
But oh, it was sure fun to think about.
She glanced at her watch as she climbed the stairs from the basement. Forty-five glorious minutes all to herself. Long enough to finally finish her current library book. She really wanted to find out who the killer was without having to go back on the wait list to check it out again. Maybe she’d even splurge for a latte and cinnamon bun at the coffee shop across the street while she read.
For the second time that night, her mouth watered.
A quick mental tally of her wallet’s contents, however, squashed those plans. After tucking away this paycheck’s allotment toward Derek’s birthday present fund, that kind of needless indulgence wasn’t an option. Which was a good thing, really. Her thighs would thank her for skipping the extra calories.
Her taste buds, however, were going to sulk for a week.
“Ms. Lovett, hello! It’s so nice to see you.”
Amber turned at the familiar voice, her smile for the older woman genuine despite the paperback practically burning a hole in her purse. “Hi, Mrs. Gandy.”
A handsome African American woman with steely gray hair and an ample figure, Mrs. Gandy was the grandmother every child wanted as their own, right down to the peppermints she kept in her pocket. As the program director, she seemed to know everyone who walked through the community center’s doors by name. And had an uncanny knack for matching them up with which program or activity suited them best, even if they didn’t think so at first.
She’d been the one to suggest Amber enroll Derek in the karate class instead of chess club, which had been her original intent. To Amber’s surprise, Derek jumped at the idea.
She’d taken a little longer to warm up to it.
But despite her initial reservations, her son had flourished over the past five months, making new friends and growing stronger by the week, despite his lagging size. Mrs. Gandy had been right, as usual. And for that, she owed her more than she could ever repay.
Although she did try, because life had taught her being in someone’s debt was an uncomfortable place at the best of times.
At the worst, it could be downright precarious.
“I wanted to tell you how much my granddaughter absolutely adores the quilt you made for my great-grandbaby’s crib. Thank you again. It was so sweet of you.”
“I’m so glad she liked it.” Her skill with a needle and thread came to her rescue more than a little over the past few years. It had been nice to do something besides remake old clothes for a change.
Mrs. Gandy’s expression and tone turned cajoling. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to teach a class here sometime? There would be lots of people who’d love to learn how to make such beautiful quilts and blankets and things.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d asked. The same jolt of queasy panic hit her like it did every time she thought about being the sole focus of an entire roomful of people.
That would be a big hell no.
She summoned up an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’m a much better doer than a teacher. I’d turn all thumbs if I even tried.” Or toss her cookies. A lifetime of trying to fade into the woodwork and be ignored wasn’t easily overcome.
“That’s all right, dear. I had to ask.” Mrs. Gandy looked disappointed despite her reassuring words, increasing Amber’s guilt.
Which was why she found herself saying, “If there’s anything else I can do to help out here, though, I’d be happy to volunteer. Just…not in a classroom. Behind the scenes is more my comfort zone.”
She w
But a part of her still felt she owed something to the center for her son’s free program. Taking something for nothing didn’t sit right with her. Never had. So, if she somehow had to squeeze a few more hours out of her week to repay the debt, she would.
Sleep was highly overrated, anyway.
Mrs. Gandy’s face lit up. “Oh, how sweet of you, dear. Thank you. We can never have enough volunteers.” She tapped a crimson-tipped finger against her chin. “I’ll have to see what events we have coming up that might suit you.”
Well, that’s that. You’re stuck like a tick now.
“Sure. Just let me know when you do. I’m not picky. But Derek comes first for me. Whatever it is can’t interfere with his schedule.” That was non-negotiable.
“Oh, of course!” Mrs. Gandy smiled indulgently. “Derek is such a good boy. And so enthusiastic. I don’t think he’s missed a single class yet since he started. Except for when he had his breathing problems, of course. That’s the kind of dedication I wish we would see in everyone who signs up for our programs. So many drop out after only a few weeks, or don’t even show up at all.”
The happy buzz from hearing her son praised instantly dimmed as the rest of what Mrs. Gandy said registered. “Wait. What breathing problems? Derek had an asthma attack? When?”
Mrs. Gandy’s smile faltered. “Well, no, not an attack, exactly. But he was a little wheezy and needed to sit out most of the class. You didn’t know?”
“No.” Her lips pressed tight as she fought back the irrational urge to berate the woman. If Derek felt wheezy or short of breath, all he needed to do was use his inhaler and rest. The rational side of her brain knew that.
The rabid mom side wanted to pitch a howling fit.
Because her son had had a health crisis and she hadn’t known.
Perhaps sensing the crazy hovering just below the surface, Mrs. Gandy said fretfully, “I did call you, but I got your voicemail.”
“I never got any message.” Something niggled at the back of her brain. “When was this?”
“A few weeks ago, during the Friday class. But I swear to you, I left a message.”
She’d picked up a last-minute dinner shift a few Fridays ago, which explained why she didn’t get the initial call. Rule number one was no phones on the dining room floor. That’s why Derek had the number to the restaurant in case of an emergency.
Which he clearly hadn’t shared with anyone.
The missing voicemail she blamed squarely on her crappy phone service. Cheap didn’t always mean reliable. Something she’d have to fix first thing tomorrow.
“I sent a note home with Derek since I couldn’t speak with you directly and you weren’t here to pick him up in person that night. It said to call if you had any questions or concerns. When you didn’t, and you didn’t come in to talk to me when you dropped him off at class the following week, well, I assumed he’d given it to you and everything was fine.”
And why wouldn’t she? Derek wasn’t the kind of boy who lied.
Until now, apparently.
Her teeth ground together as impotent frustration made her muscles tighten. He knew better than to hide any breathing issues from her. Mild attack or not, she wanted to know.
She needed to know.
Her son was the most precious thing in the world to her. And she knew just how easy it could be to lose the things you loved most.
It took a lot, but she managed to unclench her jaw. Balancing her need to ensure Derek’s well-being against his budding adolescent independent streak was a tightrope she was still learning to navigate. She didn’t want to start a fight over this with him. But she also didn’t want him to think it was okay to keep things from her.
The one thing they’d always had between them was honesty. To find out he was keeping secrets didn’t sit well.
At. All.
It was times like this she really wished her mother was still alive. Not only to ask for her advice. But so she could apologize for all the angst and grief she’d no doubt caused during her own rebellious youth.
Thinking about Derek being anything like her as he headed toward his teenage years was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat.
Tamping that thought down along with her annoyance, she managed a tight smile for the woman watching her with genuine concern in her eyes.
“It’s fine, Mrs. Gandy. You handled everything right. I’ll talk to Derek about this when we get home.”
“Oh, dear. I didn’t mean to get him into any trouble.”
“Don’t worry. He did that all by himself.” A sickening thought occurred. “Did you say this happen during one of his classes?” Was this new instructor making the workout too difficult for him to handle? God, had she let herself get too distracted by his good looks to notice he was pushing the kids too hard?
“Yes. Missy—one of the older girls in the class—came to get me, but by the time I got down there, everything was already well under control. Mister B…Mister Rick had everyone sitting around them as he explained exactly what poor Derek was going through.”
Her head snapped back. “He what?”
“Oh, yes, he explained all the symptoms, and what it feels like to have an asthma attack, and how the medicine in Derek’s inhaler helps. And what to do if someone has an attack and doesn’t have it with them. It was so well done, so calm and matter of fact, I don’t think half those kids realized they were learning something important.”
At Derek’s expense.
Once more grinding her teeth, she acknowledged Mrs. Gandy’s promise to let her know what kind of volunteer opportunities came up before she went outside to walk off her rage. She barely noticed the other people on the sidewalk as she silently seethed.
How dare he? Making Derek the center of attention while he was having breathing issues? Talking about him like he was some damn classroom project?
Bastard!
By the time class ended, she’d grappled her temper back into some semblance of control. Mostly, anyway.
Waiting outside the meeting room as the boisterous kids streamed out, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Confrontation always made her stomach a little woozy. But when it came to her kid, she’d never backed down from one before, and she wasn’t about to start now. No matter how good looking the jerk was.
“Mom, is everything okay?”
The worry on Derek’s face told her she wasn’t doing as good a job as she thought of covering her temper. After glancing at the last of the kids pounding up the staircase, she asked, “Is there something you forgot to tell me, young man?”
His expression turned wary. “What do you mean?”
Disappointed at his evasiveness, she shook her head. “Never mind. We’ll talk about it when we get home. First, I need to talk to your instructor before he leaves.”
“What? Why?” The first hint of panic—and maybe a little guilt—colored his words.
“Just wait here. This will only take a minute.”
“But Mom—”
“Wait. Here.” She hated pulling out the “I’ve had enough, don’t test me” voice, but she was all out of patience.
Pushing through the heavy door, she spied Mister Rick at the front of the room, bending over a black gym bag as he pushed a towel inside and zipped it shut. She didn’t give herself time to second guess. Or to ogle his ass. She walked toward him with purpose in her step.
“I’d like a word with you before you go.”
Straightening, he slung the strap over his shoulder as he watched her approach. “I’m sorry, if you’re looking to enroll your kid in the class, you’ll need to speak to—”
“My son is already in your class.” From the way he raised an imperious eyebrow, she realized she’d very rudely interrupted him. Well, tough.
“And who might that be?”
“Derek Lovett.” She waited for the recognition and guilt to hit him. Unfortunately, she only got one out of the two.
“Ah, Derek.” He nodded with a small smile. “He’s doing really well. Even though he’s only a beginner, he’s got a natural aptitude for the movements.”
“I, ah, thank you.” The reflexive pleasure at hearing her son praised threw her off for a second before she refocused. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
