Jardin's Gamble (Haven, Texas Book 9) Read online

  Jardin’s Gamble

  Laylah Roberts

  Laylah Roberts

  Jardin’s Gamble

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  © 2020, Laylah Roberts

  [email protected]

  laylahroberts.com

  * * *

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

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  Cover Design by: Allycat’s Creations

  Editing: Eve Arroyo

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Books by Laylah Roberts

  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

  Epilogue

  Let’s keep in touch!

  Books by Laylah Roberts

  Doms of Decadence

  Just for You, Sir

  Forever Yours, Sir

  For the Love of Sir

  Sinfully Yours, Sir

  Make me, Sir

  A Taste of Sir

  To Save Sir

  Sir’s Redemption

  Reveal Me, Sir

  Montana Daddies

  Daddy Bear

  Daddy’s Little Darling

  Daddy’s Naughty Darling Novella

  Daddy’s Sweet Girl

  Daddy’s Lost Love

  A Montana Daddies Christmas

  Daring Daddy

  Warrior Daddy

  Daddy’s Angel

  Heal Me, Daddy

  MC Daddy

  Motorcycle Daddy

  Hero Daddy

  Protector Daddy

  Haven, Texas Series

  Lila’s Loves

  Laken’s Surrender

  Saving Savannah

  Molly’s Man

  Saxon’s Soul

  Mastered by Malone

  How West was Won

  Cole’s Mistake

  Jardin’s Gamble

  Men of Orion

  Worlds Apart

  Cavan Gang

  Rectify

  Redemption

  Redemption Valley

  Audra’s Awakening

  Old-Fashioned Series

  An Old-Fashioned Man

  Two Old-Fashioned Men

  Her Old-Fashioned Husband

  Her Old-Fashioned Boss

  His Old-Fashioned Love

  An Old-Fashioned Christmas

  Bad Boys of Wildeside

  Wilde

  Sinclair

  Luke

  1

  Thea Garrison had shit luck.

  Fate was basically a bully and she enjoyed giving Thea constant wedgies. Sometimes, she even swirled her head in a dirty toilet.

  Don’t laugh. That nearly happened once. Although that had more to do with a three-day flu and a pushy six-year-old than bad juju.

  Today was supposed to be awesome.

  She had on her best outfit. Like all her other clothes, it was from the thrift shop, but the black pencil skirt and loose white blouse actually appeared brand new and hadn’t needed altering. Which, with her boobs and butt was practically a miracle.

  Plus, she’d actually gotten her brothers to school with time to spare and all their clothes on. This was no mean feat. Usually she screeched up to the curb with only a few minutes to spare, one boy with no shoes or the other wearing his shirt backward. Once, Ace hadn’t been wearing any underwear. She’d just pretended not to hear him when he’d told her.

  That had been the same day as her job interview. The one she’d been certain she wouldn’t get since she had very little experience. Luckily for her, Jardin Malone had run through so many personal assistants he hadn’t had much choice but to give her a try. He wasn’t an easy guy to work for. Uptight, blunt, and a perfectionist.

  He was also hot as hell. Although she pretended not to notice, he was her boss after all.

  Thea was determined to keep this job. It paid better than anything else she could get, plus she was good at it. She’d stuck at it for over two months now. Apparently, his lordship’s previous personal assistant had lasted just a week.

  Nothing was going to ruin today. Not those snobby-ass bitches at the boys’ school calling her names behind her back. Not the fact she was basically an outcast at work because of her secondhand clothing and a car that should have gone to the great junk yard in the sky a long time ago.

  She’d even thought she’d be early enough to splurge on a coffee and one of those sticky buns at the food truck.

  Life had been looking pretty sweet. Until two minutes ago when smoke had started pouring out of her hood.

  Attempting to ignore it, she kept driving. She was still fifteen minutes from work. It was early, so there wasn’t too much traffic on the road. And she wanted that sticky bun. She could taste it.

  “Come on,” she muttered to herself, praying the smoke would magically disappear.

  Might happen. Maybe.

  If fate wasn’t a bully and a bitch.

  The car started to shudder. A horn honked at her, no doubt noticing the plume of smoke erupting from the hood of her car. Or maybe it was just that she’d slowed down to a crawl.

  She hit her blinker and moved off the road onto the wide shoulder.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” She slumped forward, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. Come on, Thea. Big girl panties. You can deal.

  She undid her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. After opening the hood and waving to clear the smoke from in front of her face, she stared down at the motor.

  Fuck a duck.

  Like she had any clue what she was doing. She reached for the cap where most of the smoke seemed to be originating from. Her skin instantly seared from the heat, and she snatched it back with a yelp of pain, holding the wrist with her other hand. Tears threatened.

  Deep breaths, Thea.

  You’ve had worse. This is nothing. Breathe.

  The sound of an engine approaching had her pushing her injured hand behind her back. She’d learned early in life it never paid to show any weakness. She stared in surprise as a huge, black truck pulled up beside her tiny, beat-up car. This truck screamed masculinity. It was the type of truck a man would buy if he were trying to overcompensate for being small in other areas.

  Her mouth dropped open as the door opened and one of the biggest, most rugged-looking guys she’d ever seen in her life stepped out.

  Okay she was pretty sure he hadn’t bought this truck to compensate for being overly small in other areas.

  At least she sure hoped not or else there was something wrong with this world.

  The guy was a giant. She barely reached five foot three and weighed close to a hundred and fifty pounds. This dude
was at least a foot taller and twice as wide. He could probably bench-press her and not even get winded.

  That was fucking hot.

  Even hotter was the idea of him picking her up and pressing her against the wall while fucking her.

  Down, girl.

  “Hello? Hello, miss? You okay?” His voice was gravelly. Low. Sexy as fuck. He had on a black T-shirt and black jeans along with motorcycle boots that were . . . yep, black.

  “Seems to be the theme,” she muttered.

  “Sorry? Miss, are you okay?” the deep voice asked again.

  She continued to stare at him, taking in the ink that was revealed on his forearms, in swirling, green patterns. The trimmed beard, those piercing, blue eyes and jet-black hair.

  Mama save me.

  He frowned and stepped closer to her. Suddenly, he reached out and placed his palm over her forehead.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” She stepped back, nearly tripping in her heels. She still wasn’t comfortable wearing shoes this high, but she thought they made her legs look long and thin rather than short and dumpy.

  He grabbed her arm, saving her from falling flat on her ass. Which would have been another injury to add to her still throbbing hand. That was going to be a bitch to type with.

  “Careful there,” he rumbled. He scowled down at her feet. “What the fuck are you wearing on your feet?”

  “Shoes.”

  He rolled his eyes heavenward as though searching for patience. “Shoes, huh? Looks more like instruments of torture.”

  He wasn’t wrong there. They were black stilettos with a series of straps that ran up her feet. They looked sexy as fuck, but comfortable they were not.

  Didn’t help that they were a size too small for her and by the end of the day they’d be pinching horribly.

  Why had she worn them? Why hadn’t she worn her perfectly comfortable, if boring, ballet flats?

  Vanity. Pure and simple.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my shoes.”

  “You just about landed on your ass,” he pointed out.

  Not her finest moment, to be sure. “Because you tried to grope me!”

  “Grope you?” He raised his eyebrows. “When did I grope you?”

  “You touched my forehead.”

  “Seems we have different definitions of what grope means. I was checking to see if you had a temperature.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Maybe because you were just standing there, staring at me, your cheeks flushed and your breath coming in sharp pants. Thought you might have been ill. Now I’m guessing it was . . . a hot flush?” There was heat in his eyes, mixed with amusement.

  She folded her arms over her chest. His gaze dropped to the cleavage she’d unwittingly pushed up over the top of her shirt.

  “Stop staring at me!”

  Oh, like you don’t like the interest in his gaze. Hussy.

  His own arms crossed his chest. “Like you weren’t eye-fucking me when I walked up?”

  Oh, fuck. She could feel her face flaming hot. “You’re right. I think I have a temperature.”

  His face clearly told her he thought she was a liar. He was so right.

  Then his gaze flickered over to the raised hood of her car. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful for that or not. Part of her missed that heated, amused gaze roaming over her skin. Her eyes dropped to his huge hands, just imagining him running them all over her. Cupping her breast. Squeezing her ass. Spanking her.

  Jesus, Thea. Get it together.

  She licked her lips.

  “That fever still raging, huh?” he drawled, keeping his gaze on her car.

  “Seems to be,” she croaked.

  After sending her another heated look, he headed back to his truck. Wait. Where was he going? Was he going to just leave her here?

  She knew he was under no obligation to help her. And let’s face it, most of her life people had walked away from her. But still . . . it seemed kind of rude.

  Especially when she’d already mentally undressed him several times.

  That kind of thing created a bond . . . well, it should have.

  You’re an idiot, Thea.

  Disappointment flooded her. Not because she thought anything would come from her attraction to him. She was experienced enough to know that sexual chemistry could fizzle and die as quickly as it had begun. Just because someone got her blood pumping didn’t make them good boyfriend material. In her experience it tended to be the opposite.

  But instead of going for the driver’s door and taking off, he moved around the back of the truck, opening it. When he returned, he held a small toolbox.

  “Do you . . . do you know how to fix my car?” she asked hopefully.

  “I’m a mechanic,” he confirmed.

  Elation filled her. Quickly followed by worry. What if he expected to be paid for his time? She’d need to offer something. Only she didn’t have any cash, and even though she’d just been paid, she had bills coming out her butt.

  Crap!

  Okay, one issue at a time. Either way, she was going to have to part with some money to get her car fixed. If she had her way, she’d take it to old Joe who lived three streets over and took care of the neighborhood cars for a case of beer and a pack of cigarettes.

  Of course, that could be the reason her car was now smoking, considering Joe had just given the motor a tune-up.

  Awesome.

  He grabbed a rag and undid that same cap. That would have been much smarter than just reaching for it with her poor hand, which still throbbed.

  She pushed the pain to one side. She couldn’t do anything about it then, and looking at it would just make it hurt worse.

  “Can you fix it then? I’m going to be late for work.” She didn’t want to sound rude or ungrateful, but she really had to get to work. Her boss hated tardiness.

  She was certain that if he had his way she’d live at the office. He practically did.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t.”

  “But I thought you were a mechanic.” Maybe, like old Joe, he wasn’t a very good one.

  “Shame. Looks like he should be good with those hands,” she muttered to herself.

  “Excuse me?”

  Her eyes went wide as she stared up into the handsome man’s face. A smile curved at his lips as his eyes danced down at her. “Did you just say I look like I should be good with my hands?”

  “Nope, I didn’t say that.” Because that would be way too embarrassing.

  The look he gave her told her he thought she was a complete and utter liar.

  “Can’t do it now, I’ll have to get it towed back to my garage. It’s not far from here.”

  She chewed at her lip anxiously. “Can’t I drive it now and get it to a garage after work?”

  “Not unless you want to blow your engine up,” he replied. “And that I can’t fix.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  She thought about her options. The car couldn’t stay there, it would just get towed and she’d never be able to pay the towing fees and the fine. But if she let this guy tow it to his garage who was to say he was any good? Or that he’d charge a fair price?

  She sighed. Only one option was clear.

  “I’ll get it towed myself. Thank you.”

  He gave her a skeptical look and shut the hood, turning and leaning his ass back against it. “I’m good at what I do, and I don’t hike my prices.” His gaze turned thoughtful. “Tell you what. I won’t charge labor; you just pay for any parts that are needed.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said.

  “You aren’t asking, I’m volunteering.”

  She shook her head, feeling ashamed. “I don’t need charity.”

  Reaching out, he tilted up her chin. That time she didn’t flinch back. His blue eyes stared down into hers. “Go on a date with me then.”

  “P-pardon?”

  “Payment for my labor. Go on a date with me. Unless you have a boyfriend?”

&
nbsp; She blinked. “No, I don’t. You’re seriously going to tell me that in return for you working on my car for free you want to take me out on a date?”

  “Yep.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You’re not going to insist on some fancy restaurant and order champagne and lobster then leave me with the bill, are you?”

  Anger flashed in his gaze. Her breath caught. “Not sure what sort of men you’ve been dating, but when I take a girl out, I pay.”

  “So, not only will you be working on my car for free but you’ll be paying for me when we go out? That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Everything always fair in your life?”

  She snorted. “Rarely.”

  “Seems a fair trade to me. Few hours of work in exchange for a few hours of your company.”

  “This isn’t a sex thing, is it?” she blurted out.

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re not asking me out because you think I’ll give you a blowjob in the restaurant bathroom? Because while I like sex, I’m really not that type—”

  Her sentence was cut off as he placed his hand over her mouth. “I’m gonna stop you right there before you succeed in pissing me off,” he growled at her.

  He already sounded plenty pissed off, so it was probably a good idea he’d shut her up.

  “I am not asking you to have sex with me. Okay, maybe trying to bribe you to go on a date was not my best move. But when I take a girl out, I pay and I do not expect anything in return. All right?”

  She mumbled behind his hand.

  “What was that?” he demanded, removing his hand.

  “Most guys would,” she told him.

  “Well then those guys would be dicks and totally unworthy of your attention.”

  “You don’t even know me,” she whispered. “Why would you want to help me? Why would you want to take me on a date?”