Wood U (Carved Hearts #4) Read online

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  Wood U

  A Carved Hearts Novel

  Copyright © 2015 by L.G. Pace III & Michelle Pace

  Cover designer: Robin Harper. Wicked By Design

  Formatting by JT Formatting

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To the stupendous readers of Good Wood, Mollywood, and Heartwood, who campaigned hard for a “Mac book”. You earned this one. Here’s the opportunity to get inside Mr. Hildebrandt’s head ... and his pants. Enjoy!

  This book is also dedicated to those who needed to know all of Francis’s story. Wood U exists because of your curiosity and enthusiasm.

  Adios, Amigos!

  Title Page

  Chapter One – Down the Rabbit Hole

  Chapter Two – Party Crasher

  Chapter Three – Lone Star State of Mind

  Chapter Four – Let’s Get Physical

  Chapter Five – Bingo

  Chapter Six – My Old Pal Murph

  Chapter Seven – Fixes

  Chapter Eight – Consequences

  Chapter Nine – Damages

  Chapter Ten – Urges and Obligations

  Chapter Eleven – Taking Sides

  Chapter Twelve – I Got You

  Chapter Thirteen – Exes and Ohs

  Chapter Fourteen – To the Moon and Back

  Chapter Fifteen – Taken

  Chapter Sixteen – Regrets

  Chapter Seventeen – Meet the Parents

  Chapter Eighteen – Not Over You

  Chapter Nineteen – What The F--?

  Chapter Twenty – Promises

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  WHEN THE AUTOMATIC doors of the airport slid open and the warm Texas air slammed into me, a rush of endorphins shot through my veins. After months of being cooped up inside back home, all that sunshine sang to my outdoorsy soul. Though I’d never been to Austin, the sun baked asphalt of the rental car lot outside the terminal felt familiar. Climbing behind the wheel of my rented Challenger, I laughed at the absurdity of my situation.

  I’d nearly walked out of the airport a few hours before without boarding the flight. In fact, the only thing that stopped me was my practical streak. I’d already had my personal space violated by a female security officer, and it seemed stupid to waste a perfectly good plane ticket. The elementary school where I taught was on spring break, and I’d had an incredibly rough quarter. Teaching at a high risk school had always been my dream, but after several hostile encounters with unreasonable parents, I was ready to throw in the towel. If it wasn’t for my love for the kids, I’d have transferred long ago.

  I hadn’t always been so jaded. Fresh out of college, I sought out a position in a school that needed teachers so badly they offered outrageous sign-on bonuses to anyone who could (or would) complete a full year. I’d always thrived on a good challenge. My favorite students were the ones other teachers gave up on the first day of class: the ones who came to class, not only without their homework, but without so much as a pencil. The kids who gravitated to the back of the room because they still couldn’t read. There was nothing like that moment when the light came on, that breakthrough moment that always came with enough patience and perseverance. I’d never once doubted my decision to go into teaching, but I was starting to question whether I had the stamina to deal with the parents who didn’t want to put in the time.

  After four years in Detroit, the honeymoon had officially ended. Our principal retired, and our support system apparently had decided to go fishing along with him. A couple of businesses in town had laid off a considerable portion of their workforce, and said employees just happened to be quite a few of the parents in our district. Tensions at home were high, and the residual effects were reaching the classroom. Going into Christmas break, I’d been personally threatened by no less than two single mothers, who weren’t happy that I’d suggested their children had attention issues. I’m not one to point fingers, but that same evening, someone keyed a foul name into the passenger’s side door of my car.

  Then my father called.

  My long lost, presumed-dead father.

  When I saw that the unfamiliar incoming number, I assumed I was about to be told what a shitty teacher I was for the fourth time in twenty-four hours and that it was all my fault that someone’s little angel was failing. I sighed and hit the answer button.

  “Hello?”

  “Kelly Palmer?”

  I knew the voice immediately, even though I hadn’t heard it since I was twelve years old. My mouth went dry, and I almost dropped the phone. A wave of goosebumps rolled across my flesh.

  “Yes.” I sounded scared, reduced to the child I’d been the last time I’d spoken with the man on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, darlin’. It’s your dad.”

  I’m not sure how long I stood in my kitchen looking out at the snowy parking lot. Long forgotten emotions waged a silent war inside me.

  “Hello? You still there?”

  “Yes.” My tone was as icy as the drift covering the dumpster below. “I’m here.”

  Where are you, dad? Where the hell have you been for the past fourteen years?

  These were the things I didn’t say. I could’ve written a multi-volume collection with the things I wanted to say, but I had so many questions that I held my tongue.

  “It’s so good to hear your voice.” I could hear the smile in his and was absolutely mystified by it.

  “How did you get my number?” I asked, and I sounded far calmer that I should have.

  “Your Aunt Susan,” he replied, and I closed my eyes. Of course. My aunt, his sister, still lived in the same house in Chicago and still had a land line. “How’ve you been?”

  How’ve I been? Since when? Since I was twelve years old and you went away on a business trip and never came home?

  Again, it’s what I wanted to say, but couldn’t. Even though he’d done nothing to earn my respect, he was still my father and how I responded to him said more about me than it would about him.

  “Fine. And you?” The surreal nature of our polite small talk blew my mind.

  “Better than I have been in a long time. I’m in Austin, Texas. I was hoping we could catch up.” He sounded like he’d called an old high school acquaintance.

  “I don’t know.” I hadn’t processed the words before they slipped from my lips. My shoulders were tense, and I wished he had been another unsatisfied parent. “I’ll h
ave to think about that.”

  “Kelly…” he started, and I hung up.

  It was a full five minutes before my breathing returned to normal. Dazed, I debated about whether to call my mother, but the idea of speaking to both of my parents in the same day was unthinkable. I drove to the gym on autopilot for my spin class and set about losing myself in the sweat and adrenaline. After that, I hit the weights. I tried to forget about the phone call, but the man’s words never entirely left my conscious mind.

  “Hi, darlin’. It’s your dad.”

  How dare he call me “darlin’”?

  How dare he act like he knows me?

  The following weekend was Annette’s Texas Hold’em tournament, and I was grateful for the distraction. She and her husband always invited me for these festivities, but I rarely joined them since I wasn’t much of a card player. Sometimes I felt like they’d made it their personal mission to find me a husband, since every time I went to their house it was me and three or four eligible bachelors around the poker table.

  Annette had just had a baby boy six weeks before, and she intended to enjoy all twelve weeks of her maternity leave. I missed her a lot. With the exception of a couple other casual shopping buddies, she was the only coworker I truly socialized with.

  “When are you going to stop trying to set me up?” I demanded, sipping my drink.

  “When are you going to settle down so that our kids can have playdates and we can take cruises to Belize together?” She responded.

  “When I meet the right guy, I guess.” I replied.

  “So when hell freezes over is what you’re telling me.” She mumbled. “Super.”

  I smirked, but it stung a bit. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Annette.”

  “Where are you going to meet this Mr. Perfect?” Her tone was incredulous. “At the gym?”

  She knew she’d clipped me good with her comment. The guys who went to my gym tended to be serious body-builder types and were not much for clever conversation. It hadn’t stopped me from bringing a few of them back to my place, but it was usually a one-time thing. Since I wasn’t a one-nighter type of girl at heart, this pattern of mine didn’t lend itself to a fairy tale ending.

  “My dad called.” I said, thinking a subject change was in order.

  Annette spit her soda all over her blouse, and when she rushed into her room to change, I followed her.

  “Warn a bitch before you say stuff like that.” She grumbled, pulling off her soda-laden shirt and searching around for another. “I thought he was dead.”

  “Join the club,” I replied. “He wants to ‘catch up’.”

  “I imagine so,” she said in her usual snarky manner. “So what are you going to do?”

  Just as she said the words, her husband swung the bedroom door open. She was still standing topless, in her nursing bra.

  ‘Whoa!” he said, looking from her to me, pure wonder on his face. “Whatever’s going on in here, don’t stop on my account.”

  Annette and I both laughed, and she threw a pillow at him.

  “In your dreams, babe. Now go make the damn chili dip like I asked.” As he ducked the pillow and vanished back out of the room, she turned to me. “I think you should meet with him, Kelly. Make him look you in the eye and explain himself. If not for him, do it for you.”

  After a couple of days and sleepless nights, I called him back. I’d just watched It’s a Wonderful Life alone in my shitty little apartment, and the guilt of hanging up on him was eating at me. He spoke with unabashed enthusiasm, and though we didn’t talk long, he hinted at how much he’d like me to come visit him. I told him I’d think it over and wished him a Merry Christmas.

  Over the remainder of winter break, I studied up on Austin enough to learn that it would be a great place to vacation. The city was a cultural mecca, and all the outlets for someone with my active lifestyle were very tantalizing.

  But more than anything, I needed to see my dad. Annette had been right. I needed to look him in the face when I said all of the things I’d been holding in for so many years. By the time spring break rolled around, I’d worked myself up to give him a piece of my mind and to drill him for the answers I so richly deserved. I owed it my mom, and I owed it to myself to go.

  Once I got to the airport, though, my tough girl act failed me the moment they started calling for my flight. Somehow I managed to get to the gate. I told myself that if I still felt uncomfortable once I got there, I’d go on about my trip without ever even seeing Francis Palmer. I could still kayak on Lady Bird Lake, do a little shopping at The Domain, eat barbecue at Franklin’s and wash it all down with a Texas martini. I’d fly back home and call it a vacation. It was petulant, but giving myself an out had always been an important part of my denial process.

  A few hours later as I climbed behind the wheel of my rental car, I was faced with a decision: come all this way and ignore the elephant in the room or do myself the favor of facing him head-on as originally planned. As I started the car and blasted the air conditioning, I nodded decisively. I was going to Dad’s. It would be my first stop. I figured it would be like having my ears pierced or losing my virginity. Far more startling than it was painful and much briefer than I expected.

  Just get it over with, Kelly. If it’s too awkward, you can just say you’re tired and need to go back to the hotel.

  Cursing aloud, I plugged his address into my cellphone and cautiously made my way into the rush of cars. As I fought traffic, I was able to catch a few glimpses of the city my father now called home.

  Austin wasn’t what I expected at all. I had a picture in my head of Texas, and it largely consisted of tumbleweeds and cacti. Even from the interstate I could see that my mind had manufactured inaccurate assumptions. The urban sprawl was balanced with rolling hills, and hearty green trees monopolized the landscape. The sunny weather continued to improve my mood, and I’d taken pleasure in ditching my winter coat into the trunk of my rental the second I’d arrived.

  As I crossed Lamar Blvd. Bridge, I released a shaky exhale. The closer I drew to my destination, the more my eye twitched, and the more agitated I felt. What the hell was I thinking? What was I going to say to this stranger with my father’s face?

  Where were you when mom was worrying about putting food on the table?

  Why did you leave me without a goodbye?

  Why didn’t you send money to keep the bank from evicting us?

  By the time I had pulled up and parked in front of the small store front, I remembered why I’d hung up on him the first time he called. I stared blankly at the GPS app on my phone and glanced up at the storefront before me. Maybe I’d reversed the numbers, I thought, and I caught a glimpse of someone turning the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ in the window. With an exasperated sigh, I hopped out and hurried to the alcove, where the door to the business was opening.

  “You’re too late. I’m fixin’ to close, and I already have my key in the lock,” the man in the doorway declared. His back was to me, and his tone was non-negotiable. I bit back a giggle at the term fixin’ (which totally fit my previous image of Texas), but I couldn’t help but admire how broad his shoulders were and how perfect his ass looked in his fitted Levi’s.

  “That’s fine; I’m not here to shop. I’m lost. I was hoping you could tell me where I went wrong.” I rifled through my purse until I found the original slip of paper from my phone conversation with my dad. Finally, I located it, crumpled up in the bottom under my wallet. Smiling triumphantly, I looked up, waving the ripped piece of notebook paper proudly. What I saw floored me.

  I’d accidentally locked gazes with the most attractive man I’d ever seen. His gentle eyes were as blue as the cloudless sky above us, and his dark, disheveled hair and full beard were peppered with some sort of debris that I realized a second later was sawdust. I’m sure I looked like a slack-jawed idiot, because he flashed me a heartbreaking smile that crinkled his bedroom eyes at the corners.

  “I’d be glad to help
you anyway I can, Sugar,” he replied, and I swear his deep voice was as sexy as the rest of him. My insides did backflips, and the complication of his presence did nothing for my frayed nerves. I shoved the paper at him hurriedly.

  He held it up, his eyes narrowing for a better look, while my traitorous eyes scanned his bulging biceps and the definition of his chest beneath the soft cotton of his soiled blue t-shirt.

  “Francis? Hell, he lives right upstairs. The apartment on the left.” His gaze fell on me again. Those eyes, framed with their dark coal lashes, seemed to reassess me, more thoughtfully than before. I wondered how he knew my father, and worse, if he’d hold it against me when he found out we were related.

  “Thank you so much.” I smiled, my voice squeaky to my own ears. The way this man towered over me really got my juices flowing, and I wasn’t prepared for this unexpected surge of hormonal frustration on top of my already frazzled nerves. I hurried past him toward the staircase and quickly ascended to the landing at the top. Had it not been for the fact that I could feel his gaze on my ass, I may not have mustered the fortitude to knock on the apartment door. I spared a glance in his direction, and the sight of him straddling his motorcycle was so alluring that I wasn’t prepared when the door in front of me swung open.

  My father stood before me, and seeing his familiar smile instantly brought tears to my eyes. I couldn’t believe it, since I was sure I was all cried out over him long ago. His deeply lined face and frail form made it obvious that he’d lived a hard decade-plus without Mom and me. He was emaciated, deeply tanned, and barely resembled the larger-than-life father that I remembered. When he smiled at me, though, flashes of the happy girl I once was defrosted my frozen heart just a tiny smidge.

  He enveloped me in a tight embrace before I had a chance to protest. Disturbed, I endured his unexpected display, half pissed-off, half heartbroken. Oblivious to or ignoring my discomfort, he ushered me inside, and I was surprised by how nice his place was as well as how few possessions he seemed to own.