Cautious: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World) Read online

  Cautious

  An Everyday Heroes World Novel

  Candice Wright

  Contents

  Introduction

  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

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  KB Worlds

  Books by Candice Wright

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also Written By K. Bromberg

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  © 2020 KB WORLDS LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Published by JKB Publishing, LLC.

  Cover Design by: The Pretty Little Design Co.

  Editing by: Tanya Oemig, Ms. Correct All & Gina Writes Words

  Formatting by: Gina Wynn

  Published in the United States of America

  Introduction

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the Everyday Heroes World!

  I’m so excited you’ve picked up this book! Cautious is a book based on the world I created in my USA Today bestselling Everyday Heroes Series. While I may be finished writing this series (for now), various authors have signed on to keep them going. They will be bringing you all-new stories in the world you know while allowing you to revisit the characters you love.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I allowed them to use the world I created and may have assisted in some of the plotting, I took no part in the writing or editing of the story. All praise can be directed their way.

  I truly hope you enjoy Cautious. If you’re interested in finding more authors who have written in the KB Worlds, you can visit www.kbworlds.com.

  Thank you for supporting the writers in this project and me.

  Happy Reading,

  K. Bromberg

  For Rowen….

  The tiny warrior who fought so valiantly.

  Heroes come in all shapes and sizes,

  Some leave the world in a blaze of glory

  Others leave silent footprints on our souls.

  Chapter One

  Callie

  “Motherfucking, cocksucking asshole,” I curse as the box slips from my hands. Naturally, it lands upside down, and the contents spill out over the doorstep.

  “That’s quite the mouth you have on you.”

  Hearing the unexpected voice behind me, I spin around so fast I lose my footing and end up in a heap next to my belongings.

  “Balls,” I mumble, embarrassed, knowing I’m going to have a bruised tailbone tomorrow.

  I attempt to climb to my feet gracefully, which is impossible because, as I’ve just proven, I don't do graceful.

  “Here, let me help,” the deep sexy voice that sounds like it’s been dipped in honey offers.

  I lift my head and connect with a hard jaw, making us both groan.

  “Shit. I’m so sorry, are you okay?” I ask, getting my first good look at my would-be white knight, and woah, this guy is stunning.

  I drink in the tall muscular man in ripped black jeans and Khaki green t-shirt that hints at his sculpted physique and freeze with my mouth open. Holy shit. All other coherent thought goes out the window when he smiles, revealing a dimple in each cheek. I manage to hold back a whimper as vaginas around the world weep with appreciation.

  Thick, dark chocolate-colored hair that curls a little at the ends falls around a face that belongs on the cover of a magazine. The really dirty top-shelf kind of magazine. Eyes as dark as tar, framed with lashes I instantly find myself jealous of, draw my attention from his full lips that are curved slightly at my blatant appraisal of him.

  “You okay?” His amused deep voice rumbles over my skin, and I’m pretty sure I just had a mini orgasm right there and then on the front doorstep of my new house.

  Answer him, Callie.

  “Erm…”

  Use more words.

  “Yes?”

  Wow. Nailed it.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, amusement still present in his voice as he reaches out his hand for me.

  I stare at the hand, then back to his face, and conclude that I must have banged my head when I fell. I reach out my hand, but not to grab his. Oh no, not me. I reach up and poke him in the forehead.

  “Definitely real,” I mumble to myself, dumbfounded.

  At this point he must realize that I’m clearly not firing on all cylinders, so he takes my hand without waiting for me to get my shit together and pulls me to my feet.

  I was right before when I thought he was tall; my five-foot-four frame only just hits his collarbone. Tipping my head up, I see him looking down at me with one side of his mouth hitched up in a grin, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

  “Well, alrighty then. Thank me. I mean, thank you for helping me, and sorry for, you know, clonking you on the chin and mentally undressing you with my eyes.”

  “You were mentally undressing me?” His smile is covering his whole face now.

  “Wait, what?” I answer, somewhat dazzled.

  “And how do I look naked?” he questions as he laughs softly, stepping a little closer.

  “Freaking awesome,” I whisper and feel warmth fill me in all the right places when he throws his head back and laughs.

  I just stare at him, basking in the moment, feeling oddly proud that I made this beautiful stranger laugh like that, even if it was more at me than with me. I’d take what I could get.

  Ducking my head before he catches me ogling him again, I catch sight of my belongings scattered around my feet and across my porch, my eyes slowly widening in horror when I realize what box I had been carrying.

  “Shit.” I drop to my knees and hurriedly swipe up as much as I can and dump it into the box, hoping most of it goes unnoticed.

  He crouches down next to me to help, but I wave him off.

  “It's okay, seriously, I got this. Thanks though,” I grit out, really needing him to go now.

  He doesn’t answer so I glance up and see him staring at the eight-inch, hot-pink, silicone G- spot vibrator in his hand.

  “Err…”

  Use more words, dammit.

  “It’s called the
invader and boasts sixteen different functions, not that I’ve tried them all yet. Oh, and it's totally waterproof, which is cool. But then that got me thinking, shouldn't all vibrators be waterproof given how wet we get?”

  Why, out of all the words in the world available to me, did I choose those? Kill me now.

  He just stares at me before climbing to his feet and walking away without another word. Which is just as well. I think there is only so much humiliation I can stand before I spontaneously combust.

  I curse my lack of social skills, but this time under my breath so I don’t attract the attention of any more god-like men, and pick up the box before letting myself inside.

  The house is one of the smaller ones on the quiet street. A pretty two-bedroom painted in a pale blue with white shutters and flower-filled window boxes. The front yard is low maintenance; either side of the gray paving slabs that lead to the road are covered with an array of pebbles, meaning I don’t have to worry about mowing any grass. A few flowerpots to tend is more than enough for me. Three steps lead up to the house where there is a little decked porch out front that is just big enough for a chair on either side of the door and perfect as a lazy reading spot.

  Closing the door behind me, the first thing I notice is the smell. It's a little stale and musty, probably from having sat empty for the last six months. I couldn’t complain though; it was because it had been vacant so long that the landlady offered it up for a steal. And that suited me and my meager savings just fine.

  Sliding the box onto the floor in the hallway, I scowl at it, blaming it entirely for what happened outside. On principle alone, I’m going to unpack that box last so it can sit there and think about its actions.

  I open the door on my left that leads to the living room and walk over to the grimy windows, twisting the lock and giving them a hard shove to let the fresh early morning spring breeze inside. I take a deep breath and grin. It feels so damn good to have my own space again.

  Turning, I take in the place that's now mine for however long I stay. The room is painted cream. If I remember correctly from when I viewed it, all the rooms are decorated in the same color. A neutral pallet, the landlady had explained. It was light and welcoming and that's all that mattered to me.

  Two cream leather sofas face each other with a large oak coffee table between them. A tall chrome floor lamp stands in the far left-hand corner of the room and a large ficus tree sprawls outward from the right.

  It isn’t much, but it's far more than I had when I landed here in Sunnyville a few days ago. It seemed like serendipity finding a place already furnished and ready for me to move into, and frankly, I’m sick of living out of a motel.

  Making my way into the small kitchen, I again open windows to air the place out. The kitchen may be small, but it’s plenty big enough for me and after being stuck in that motel, I will never again take having access to a kitchen for granted.

  It's been remodeled relatively recently, judging by the new beechwood cupboard doors and light gray and black flecked countertops. The floor is the same oak that runs through the rest of the house. The appliances are a basic white washing machine, stove, and a fridge freezer combo behind a false door. In the corner, there is a small table with two high-back chairs that will be just right for eating breakfast while the sun streams in through the large south-facing window.

  I frown as a knock at the door pulls my attention from the window.

  I don’t know anyone here yet, and not a single person knows my address barring the landlady, but my car is outside loaded up with my crap, so it seems pointless to hide behind the sofa and pretend I’m not home. Even if that's what I’d rather do. I shrug and head to the door. It's not like this meet and greet can go any worse than the encounter I just had.

  I pull the door open with what I’m hoping resembles more of a friendly smile than a grimace and find a pink cock in my face.

  I look up into the eyes of the beautiful man who inadvertently took my vibrator with him when he made his escape and wince.

  I open my mouth to apologize, although I’m not really sure what I’m apologizing for, but a different set of words fall out instead.

  “You know, it's kind of rude to wave a cock in someone's face.”

  Yep. That just happened.

  Snatching the plastic dick from his hand, I slam the door in his face. I bang my head against the wall repeatedly before knocking makes me sigh again. Why won't he leave? Doesn’t he realize my mouth is only big enough for one foot?

  Pulling the door open again, I paste on a big ass smile. Fake it till you make it, Callie.

  “Go out with me.” It's a demand, not a request, his gruff voice making my nipples harden.

  Wait, what?

  Chapter Two

  Blake

  I wait for her answer, still unable to move my eyes from that fake dick and the image I have burned into my brain of this vixen in front of me sliding it in and out of her slick pussy. I left earlier knowing if I hadn’t, I’d have come in my pants like a teenager just from the sound of her breathy voice.

  “Huh?” she questions, looking adorably confused.

  I take in her petite but curved-in-all-the-right-places body in denim cutoff shorts and a baggy yellow t-shirt that keeps slipping off her shoulder to reveal a violet-colored bra strap.

  Teamed with her long sleek honey-blonde hair and light brown, almost copper-colored eyes, I have to fight to remind myself that fucking someone who you've just met in their doorway is not polite in most social circles. Not that I give a fuck about being polite, but my grandmother, who lives next door, could probably do without a live-action porn show featuring yours truly.

  “Did you just ask me out?” she says with a frown.

  “I did, and I’d like to point out at this juncture that you haven't answered so….” I drift off, prompting her to respond, hopefully with a yes.

  “Are you a serial killer?” she asks, watching me warily for a response.

  “No, not a serial killer,” I answer dryly, not even trying to fight my grin.

  “Do you have a red room of pain?”

  “What the fuck is a red room of pain?” I cross my arms and stare at her with morbid fascination.

  “So that's a no then… do you live in your parents' basement?”

  “My parents are dead, but even if they were alive, the answer would be no. I left home at eighteen and never went back.” I surprise myself by candidly answering her. I don’t do the sharing thing, especially with women I’ve just met.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she says softly, and something about the guarded look in her eyes tells me she gets it more than most.

  “It was a long time ago.” I shrug. “So, if I promise to not take you to any red rooms of pain or dismember you and bury you in my parents' basement, you’ll go on a date with me? Perfect. I’ll pick you up next Friday at 7 pm.” I turn and walk away with a grin, not giving her a chance to say no.

  “Erm… just saying… promising not to dismember and bury me in your parents' basement is oddly specific and not really all that reassuring, Mr. Bundy,” she yells behind me, making me chuckle.

  I look over my shoulder and see her arms crossed over her chest, the tip of the pink cock poking out from the crease of her elbow where she still has it in her hand.

  “Friday, and it's Blake. Blake Price,” I tell her, figuring she’ll need to know my name so she can scream it before I fuck her into a coma.

  “I think I’ll stick with Bundy until I make it home safe and sound, if it's all the same with you. And my name is Callie with an ie. Make sure the newspapers get it right if I become your next victim,” she yells again before slamming the door behind her.

  Oh, this is gonna be fun.

  I stroll into my offices an hour later after having breakfast with my grandmother, but my mind is still very much on my encounter with her bewitching new neighbor.

  “Hey boss, how’s June doing?” Aiden asks as he pours coffee into his mug from th
e pot in the corner.

  I look around the brightly lit room, taking in the white walls and the brown leather couches in an ‘L’ to the left. A glass coffee table between them is topped with a handful of magazines. On the right is the empty reception desk where my grandmother usually resides. Thanks to a fall that ended with a broken hip, she’s resting up at home, much to her disgust.

  “She’s doing okay. Pissed I won’t let her come back to work, but she can't hide how much it still hurts her to move around, so she isn’t winning this argument anytime soon.”

  He laughs before pouring a coffee for me and handing it over.

  “She is going to drive you nuts until you finally relent. You know that, right?” he retorts with another laugh, perching his ass on the edge of the desk.

  I shake my head with an amused smile playing on my lips but don’t answer him, mostly because we both know he’s right. I watch him for a moment, taking in his messy black hair, white t-shirt and faded blue jeans. It’s his standard outfit, and yet he looks a little more disheveled than usual. I frown when I notice just how tired he looks.

  “Everything okay with you?” I query, used to seeing him a little more put together.