Pierced Hearts (Southern Charmers Book 1) Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by Ahren Sanders

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

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  Editing: Kendra Gaither @ Kendra’s Editing & Book Services

  Cover Design: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

  Ahren’s Ramblings…

  A few years ago, someone on my team encouraged me to talk to an Editor at a large publishing house that was seeking submissions. I was terrified, self-conscious, and completely out of my element. My stories have always come to me organically and sometimes at inappropriate times (I’m looking at you, Hotshot and Fat Cat Liar… I was supposed to be chaperoning those kids, not holed in a corner typing furiously on my phone to lock in the ideas). But I decided to step out on a limb and throw caution to the wind.

  The first step was to gather my thoughts and try to appear professional and organized. I outlined idea after idea, tossing my imaginative mind into different worlds and different stories that I wanted to create. It was during this time that the idea for the “Kendrick Boys” hit me. I immediately fell in love with Pierce Kendrick and his brother, Miller. But more so, Darby Graham’s character owned a piece of my heart and I knew I had the ultimate soulmate for Pierce. The outline was rough, but the story was evolving. It took two years for me to get to Pierce and Darby in order to give them the attention and creative energy they needed.

  Over this time, the Kendrick Boys no longer seemed like it fit the story, and this is how the “Southern Charmers” series was born. I think you will understand once you dive into the book and meet the guys.

  What happened to that Editor and my submissions? Well, we scheduled a meeting! I got my chance to talk about my work, my ideas, my previous successes, and my learning experiences along the way. It was great! But my personal life and professional life were weaving together in a way that I knew I couldn’t make any drastic changes. We kept the lines of communication open. Who knows what the future holds?

  So, here we are. Pierced Hearts is done and in your hands. The format and telling is a throwback to my style, complete with loads of family and friends. This emotional, sexy, second-chance romance holds a place in my heart, and I hope you devour it, love it, and go back to re-read once you are done to experience it all over again.

  I could not do this without the support, encouragement, and patience of my family. We’re a small team, but the important thing is we are a team that somehow gets things done. I am a lucky lady.

  Happy Reading!

  Xoxo

  Ahren

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  COPYRIGHT

  Ahren’s Ramblings…

  Prologue

  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

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Author Links- Keep in touch!

  Bonus Extravaganza

  Prologue

  Darby

  I turn off the engine, taking a moment to admire the landscape of my parents’ property. Everything looks the same, but I couldn’t feel more different. It’s been a long time since I lived my life without a plan.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Lynda rolling Mom onto the terrace. Runner, my golden retriever, crawls halfway across the console, excited to finally be here.

  “What do you think, boy? Ready for some changes?”

  He barks his reply.

  We jump out, and he races to the fields, checking out his new surroundings. My heart leaps when my mom stands, taking four steps away from her wheelchair, and extends her arms to me.

  “Mama!”

  “Get your skinny butt up here!” she haughtily calls back.

  I cross the distance and almost collapse into her arms. It’s been seven long weeks since her surgery. Seeing her stand and take those steps sends relief flooding through me. Of course, Dad, Lynda, my brother, Mom’s physical therapist, and her doctor had all sent videos, but witnessing it in person makes it all the more real. She’s fine.

  “Looking good, old woman. Glad you fixed yourself. I was dreading coming back here to a lazy slug.”

  “Lazy my ass. I’ll show you lazy when we’re up at five-thirty in the morning.”

  “Oh, are we sleeping in tomorrow?” I tease, reaching out a hand to Lynda, who takes it affectionately.

  “Smartass.” Mom’s arms tighten before she steps back, cupping my chin with her fingertips. “My Darby Rose is home.”

  The words are simple, but the meaning is clear. “I’m home.”

  There’s a short twinkle in her eye before she looks me over, her hand falling to my waist and pinching my side. “You’re even skinnier. I may have been drugged up last time you were home, but I remember you. Now, you’re skin and bones.”

  Here we go. Let the ridiculing begin. “I’m not skin and bones. I needed to lose some weight. It’s called getting fit.”

  “Look at these fancy clothes, Lynda. And that hair. Darby’s always had such gorgeous, thick hair. I understand why she wears it up for work, but for a casual afternoon at home?”

  “I think she looks lovely, Annie. Leave her alone.”

  I flash Lynda an appreciative smile, squeezing her hand once more before releasing it. Lynda has been my mom’s best friend forever. I can’t remember a time in my life when Lynda wasn’t around. She and her husband, Ray, live close, and she has been a lifesaver to our family since Mom’s fall. Without her, we’d be lost.

  Eight weeks ago, Mom was riding her horse and had a horrible fall. Lynda was the first one to get to her since my brother was out of town. It took a day for doctors to give us all the answers. Mom had shattered her hip, fractured her pelvis, slipped a disc in her lower spine, and sprained her ankle. Lynda was at her
side, giving me hourly updates until I could get from Charlotte to Charleston.

  It was Lynda who calmed my hysteria and helped me arrange all that was needed when Mom left the hospital. My brother, Evin, and Dad handled all the medical professionals, while I worked on getting Mom’s house ready, and her therapy, transportation, and caregivers set up. I barely remember the whirlwind of those few weeks, but Lynda was my family’s rock.

  Not to mention, she comes to my rescue when Mom gets on a roll.

  “You would think she looks lovely. You love these fancy-schmancy, wide-legged trousers. I prefer something tighter that shows off her figure,” Mom goes on.

  “They’re linen, Mom. They’re cool, and they are comfortable for driving,” I throw back.

  “Speaking of driving. What the hell is that God-forsaken monstrosity you drove up in?”

  “It’s my new SUV. You know I needed something larger for the business, and I thought it would be easier for you to get in and out of than my old car.”

  She studies me for a second, and her eyes instantly fill with sympathy. A quiet understanding passes between us. A quick glance at Lynda tells me she’s figured out the same thing. It has to be that motherly instinct that kicks in when a child is hiding something.

  Or hiding from something.

  “It’s just a car. Let’s not make a big deal,” I try again.

  “We’ll go for a ride when your brother gets here. He’ll help you unload. The shed is all set up.”

  “You sure you wouldn’t prefer me staying in the house with you?”

  “That’s up to you, honey. You are welcome to your old room, but I figured you’d want some of your own space. I’m getting around well enough, and having you close will be fine.”

  I chew on my bottom lip, thinking about actually moving back in with my mom at thirty-three years old. Staying under her roof while visiting is a lot different than my current situation. For now, I’ve uprooted my life, coming home to be close to family while I figure out the next steps.

  “Maybe the shed is best.”

  “Whatever you want. Let’s get back in the house. Lynda and I have been dying to hear all about your new bakery space. Evin has been tight-lipped.”

  “Do you need your chair?” I start to grab it, and she shakes her head to stop me.

  “Okay, let me get my purse and phone out of the car.”

  “See you inside.” She and Lynda head to the back door, but not before she gives me another sympathetic glance.

  I pay close attention to her steps and balance, which seem to be right on track. Then I think about the meaning behind her look. She’s on to me. I’m not fooling anyone. It’s been twelve years since I’ve spent any lengthy amount of time with my family in Charleston. I purposely lost all touch with my old life.

  When I made the decision to come home and help Mom, I knew things had to change. I found a wonderful woman to lease my townhome, took care of my business and clients, packed what I needed, and made arrangements to store the rest. All of that was fairly simple with the help of my dad, brother, and best friend.

  Then I went to work on me. It was easy to find a trainer, and with extreme commitment, I successfully lost twenty pounds, redefining my overly voluptuous curves into a leaner figure. The new hair and wardrobe came next. The purchase of the car was a bigger deal. Evin almost hemorrhaged when I told him how much I needed out of my portfolio to pay cash for the Infinity. He tried to talk me out of it but quit when I threatened to pull all my money and find a new money manager.

  The vehicle is nice, but it’s not really me. No more free-spirited, wild-haired, relaxed and easy Darby. That girl disappeared a long time ago. The new me is a sharp-minded business owner that most likely won’t be recognized.

  When I walked away from him, I gave him this part of my life. There was no choice. Charleston was his home, too, and he was making a hell of a lot of roots here that would have destroyed me if I’d stayed. Moving was easy. It was the years of self-torment and heartache that came afterward.

  I gave Pierce Kendrick my heart, my soul, and my beloved Charleston.

  And he never even blinked.

  Chapter 1

  Pierce

  Three Weeks Later

  I lean casually against the brick column, drinking my coffee and watching the cars piling into the parking lot. Children and parents fuss with backpacks, lunch boxes, and what look like presents as they rush into the school. A few wave in recognition, but mostly, everyone looks panicked.

  A flash of red catches my eyes as my Connie flies into the lot and nearly crashes into a post. I take a deep breath and go to help when she stomps around to the trunk, snapping at Cole and Maya to hurry and help her. They do as they’re told, but both abandon their mission when they spot me coming.

  “Dad!” Cole breaks out into a run, slamming into me. Maya is gentler, but her arms grip me tight.

  “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”

  “Can some of you please come help me?”

  Cole tenses at Connie’s shout, and I recognize the irritation and exhaustion in her voice, which always results in her being a total bitch.

  “Come on, kids. Let’s help your mom.”

  Connie places two large shopping bags on the ground, never making eye contact. Her bad mood is even more apparent the closer I get.

  “Hey, why don’t you two go ahead and get inside? I’ll help your mom with all this and meet you in the auditorium.” Their faces fill with relief, and they don’t even glance her way before taking off.

  “What’s the deal?” I cross my arms and prepare for the heat.

  “What’s the deal?” she sneers, her eyes coming to mine and flaming with anger. “The deal is Maya is eleven-years-old and needs a swift slap to get a lesson in manners. Cole didn’t want to get up this morning, and I found out he snuck out of bed and played some fucking video game online until midnight. The teachers asked for volunteers to bring refreshments for the assembly, and since we were running so damn late, I had to swing through and get donuts, which means all the snooty-ass moms are going to have a shit fit that I brought unhealthy choices. Not to mention, it’s teacher appreciation week, and today is gift day.”

  That explains all the bags.

  “Okay, let’s break this down. You slap my daughter, we’re gonna have a problem. She’s getting too old for a spanking, and if we need to punish her, we’ll do it together. But you haul off and slap her, you’ll answer to me.”

  The anger in her eyes begins to glow, her face twisting in disgust. I continue before she can respond. “You needed help with refreshments, you should have fucking called me. I would have picked them up. But, just saying, donuts are fine. Any snooty bitch that has a problem with it can go fuck themselves. As for Cole, I’ll have a talk with him. He’s losing his gaming system and his technology until the end of school.”

  “You think you have all the answers, don’t you? I want to rip out the gaming system forever.”

  “School doesn’t end for three weeks. That will feel like forever to a nine-year-old.”

  “You’re gonna tell him. I’m sick of being the mean parent.”

  “I have no problem telling him. I have no problem disciplining our kids if you’d tell me what’s going on before you’re ready to have a rip-roaring brawl in the school parking lot. You need something, or there’s a problem with our kids, you call me.”

  “We don’t have time for this right now. It’s already embarrassing enough for Maya that she’s the only friend in her group with split parents. I’m not going to make it worse by arguing with you in public.”

  I bite back my reply because it’s a never-ending battle with Connie when it comes to our kids and our situation. She claims it’s humiliating and traumatic, blaming me. I’ve learned to shoulder the blame. But when it comes to my children, I’ve always put them first.

  “I’ll carry these.” It’s my way of shutting down the conversation.

  We walk quietly into the school and fi
nd the kids grouped by grade in the auditorium. I follow Connie as she delivers the donuts to the refreshment area, which is overloaded with dozens and dozens of donuts.

  She slices her eyes to me, and I don’t hide my amused grin. “Shut up,” she scowls.

  “I’ll talk to the kids tonight when I pick them up for the weekend. Cole will be easy; he knows he messed up. Maya, I’ll figure it out,” I tell her when we find a section against the wall to wait for the program to begin.

  “Maya is about to start middle school and is prepubescent. She’s going to be a royal pain for a while.”

  I cringe at the reminder my baby girl is close to not being a baby anymore. It’s a constant battle, and I know she’s much harsher to Connie, but I’m also more relaxed in my parenting style.

  I put the bags I’ve been carrying on the floor, barely glancing inside. The assembly starts, and halfway through, an all too familiar scent fills the air around me. My head jerks from one side to the other, scanning every face in the room. I tell myself it’s crazy. There’s no way it could be, but I’d know that smell anywhere in the whole damn world. It’s a tropical breeze—coconuts, lime, honey, and sea spray. And at the base is the faintest scent of Marc Jacobs perfume, a perfume I bought exactly six times in my life.

  It’s the unmistakable scent of Darby Graham.

  I continue to look around, grunting when Connie elbows me in the ribs with a ‘what the hell is wrong with you?’ glare. The rest of the program drags on like mud, each presentation seemingly longer than the last. When they finally announce the last fifth-grade award, my skin is crawling.

  “Are you sick?” Connie has the decency to seem concerned.

  “No, why?”

  “I’ve seen you this jumpy four times in your life, and two of the times I was in labor.”

  I don’t care enough to ask about the other two instances. And, thankfully, I’m saved when Maya comes at me from the side, crushing me with her excited screeches.

  Cole joins next, and Connie positions us for pictures. The instant I crouch to the floor between my kids, that scent almost knocks me to my ass. It’s everywhere. She’s everywhere.