Page 6 of Shattered Oaths

My pacing stops, an idea forming in my head.

If I keep the events of last night to myself, no one will ever have to know. I can live with knowing that the man I shared my first time with doesn’t remember it. I couldn’tlive with myself if I took away the best friend my brother ever had.

Even if it means facing Noah every day for the rest of my life and pretending I don’t know what it feels like to have him inside me.

CHAPTER1

BELLA

31STDECEMBER, EIGHT YEARS LATER

Iapply one final coat of gloss to my lips, rubbing them together before pulling back and giving myself a once over in the mirror.

Not bad for someone who was covered in flour an hour ago.

My blonde hair falls in loose, ringlet curls down my back, the top half pulled back into a claw clip to create a messy-bun effect. My dark, denim wash jeans fit my legs and hug my ass so well they almost look painted on. And the white lace corset-style top does great things for my almost non-existent boobs. I reach into my closet and pull out my white cowboy boots, pulling themon to complete the outfit.

The bedroom door opens and Justin steps in, his eyes immediately running the length of my body with that hungry look that heats my blood.

“Wow, babe. You look hot,” he says, prowling toward me.

My cheeks heat as he cups my face and devours my mouth with his, likely ruining the gloss I just applied. “Thank you,” I breathe when he pulls back. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He’s dressed in a crisp white t-shirt that hugs his muscles in all the right places, black jeans and matching white sneakers. The outfit combined with the backwards hat on his head is a stark contrast to the usual suit and tie he wears on a daily basis.

Justin is what I would call boy-next-door kind of handsome. Standing at six-foot-two, he towers over my five-foot-four frame. Dark hair, that is usually styled to perfection, is swept backwards beneath his hat. His brown eyes bore into my soul, keeping me rooted to the spot.

His eyes were one of the main things that drew me to him in the beginning. One look into the swirling depths and I felt as though I could tell this man anything. It was surprising. I’ve always struggled with trusting new people. Growing up in a household like mine, you learned quickly that you could know someone your entire life and still not trulyknowthem.

We’ve been dating for a little over a year and a half now and I’ve lived with him for the past six months. After Daisy and Liv moved out of the house that we all shared, it went from being warm and full of life, noise and chaos, to cold, empty and quiet. So, when Justin asked me to move in with him, it was a no brainer.

“Are you ready to go?” Justin asks, his hands resting on my hips as he stands behind me in the mirror.

“Yeah,” I reply, my cheeks still warm under the heat of his stare.

He kisses the top of my head, finally releasing me and moving toward the door. “Good. Taxis on the way.”

Tonight is New Years Eve and we’re spending it with some of Justin’s college friends. I’ve only met a few of them a hand full of times in our relationship and it’s always been in passing, so I’m a little nervous about going to a party where I know absolutely no one.

Usually, I would spend a night like tonight with my friends and family at The Calloway Ranch, but Justin practically begged me to bring in the new year with him this year, so I couldn’t exactly say no.

As much as I’m nervous to be around new people, I’m excited to be ringing in the new year with him for the first time.

“Taxi is here,” Justin calls from the bottom of the stairs and I quickly reapply my lip gloss before tossing it in a clutch with my phone, keys and wallet before following him out the door.

***

How long after midnight is it socially acceptable to take your leave?

If it were up to me, I would have left ten minutes after we arrived at this testosterone filled sausage-fest. The moment we walked in the front door of this oversized, monstrosity of a house, all I could think about was Dorothy in theWizard of Oz.

We certainly weren’t in Rosewater Creek anymore.

But Dorothy had one up on me. She could click her pretty red heels and go home. Unfortunately, my plain old cowboy boots don’t have that power.

It’s a shared house, that much is obvious. What is also obvious is that a woman is not one of those tenants. The entire building screamsbachelor pad.

I feel like I’ve stepped back in time and into a frat party. And my boyfriend, the one training to take over an entire publishing house, has stepped back in time with it.