Love Not at First Sight Read online

  Love Not at First Sight

  Sarah Ready

  When your soul mate is the man you loathed at first sight…

  Veronica Diaz loves her career, her friends and the great outdoors – she has no room in her life for men. In fact, she knows there are only two types of men in the world: players and wanna-be players and she wants nothing to do with any of them.

  * * *

  So when a psychic informs Veronica that her fated soul mate is Frederick Knight “The King of Players,” Veronica does what any sensible woman would do – she runs.

  * * *

  A twist of fate lands Veronica in the depths of a pitch-black cave system with a man she’s never met and can’t see. As Veronica and Sam struggle to survive they open up, share their secrets, and risk their lives for each other. Soon Veronica starts to wonder if maybe not all men are players, and maybe she can trust Sam enough to fall in love.

  * * *

  The only problem: Sam is actually Frederick Knight. The man Veronica swore she’d never, ever, ever love. In fact, she loathed him at first sight.

  * * *

  And if they make it out of the cave alive, and Veronica sees him for the first time, she’ll loathe him again. Won’t she?

  * * *

  But maybe, sometimes you can only see who someone really is when you can’t see them at all? And maybe you can only fall in love when it’s not at first sight?

  Also by Sarah Ready

  Stand Alone Romances:

  The Fall in Love Checklist

  Hero Ever After

  * * *

  Soul Mates in Romeo Romance Series:

  Chasing Romeo

  Love Not at First Sight

  * * *

  Find more books by Sarah Ready at:

  www.sarahready.com/romance-books

  * * *

  Sign up to receive bonus content, exclusive epilogues and more at: www.sarahready.com/newsletter

  W.W. CROWN BOOKS

  An imprint of Swift & Lewis Publishing LLC

  www.wwcrown.com

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. All the characters and situations in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to situations or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real locations are used fictitiously.

  * * *

  Copyright © 2021 by Sarah Ready

  Published by W.W. Crown Books an Imprint of Swift & Lewis Publishing, LLC, Lowell, MI USA

  Cover Illustration & Design: Elizabeth Turner Stokes

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2021910085

  ISBN: 978-1-954007-11-6 (eBook)

  ISBN: 978-1-954007-12-3 (pbk)

  ISBN: 978-1-954007-14-7 (hbk)

  ISBN: 978-1-954007-13-0 (large print)

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Get a Bonus Epilogue

  Also by Sarah Ready

  About the Author

  1

  Veronica

  I’ve always known two things—that life is an adventure and that love makes you weak. If you want to keep having fun in life then you need to stay as far away from love as possible.

  “Veronica, come down from there,” Miss Erma calls. She’s in her eighties and she’s been ordering the good people of Romeo around for so many decades that her voice is full of command.

  Too bad.

  I ignore her and keep climbing. I’m fifty feet up, wedged against a sheer rockface. I reach into the chalk pouch clipped to my shorts and dust more chalk on my hands, then I reach for the next handhold.

  “Veronica,” she calls in a long, high voice. She even waves a hand at me.

  Nope. Not going to answer.

  Don’t get me wrong. I respect Erma and think of her as family. She’s my best friend’s great-aunt and has been a staple in my life since I was a baby. Her oatmeal cookies are to die for and she’s loads of fun. But I live in terror of her. Absolute terror.

  Why would I be scared of an eighty-year-old five-foot-nothing woman in a kimono? Because. She’s a bona fide soul mate seer. Last year she predicted the identity of my best friend’s soul mate and it turned Chloe’s life upside down. Okay, in a good way, since Chloe’s a diehard romantic, but still. I’m not.

  Speaking of… “Chloe, you are in the best friend doghouse,” I yell. She stands on the rocky trail, fifty feet below me.

  “Hey. I didn’t tell her you were here,” Chloe protests. She puts more slack on the belay rope. She’s my climbing buddy. She manages the belay so that if I fall, the device catches and I don’t fall far. Because, as much as I love adventure and adrenaline, I don’t love plunging to my death.

  I glance down and try to see Chloe’s face. She’s never been able to lie to me, but I can’t see her from so far up. She’s hidden by the shadow of the craggy rock and the low brush around her.

  Doesn’t matter. I’ll climb to the top and hike out without ever having to see Miss Erma. I lift my leg and edge my foot into a foothold. I’m in climbing shoes and my foot fits perfectly in the small crack. I boost myself and grab another handhold. The top is only ten more feet and a couple tricky maneuvers away. I can do this. I wipe away the sweat on my forehead and dust my hands with more chalk.

  “Veronica,” calls Erma.

  “Nope. No thank you,” I shout down. “Not interested.”

  I hear Miss Erma cluck and watch her shake her head.

  I can’t believe she actually came all the way out to the gorge to harass me about my soul mate. I mean, I have been avoiding her calls and her hints and her knocking at my door for about two weeks now, but still…

  Enough is enough.

  “Miss Erma,” I call down. “I don’t want to fall in love. I don’t want a soul mate.”

  “But why not, dear? I’ve seen him, he’s—”

  “No thank you,” I interrupt. I wish my hands were free so I could hold them over my ears.

  “But why not?” she calls.

  “Because love makes you weak.” I say it quietly but somehow she hears me.

  “No, dear. Love makes you strong.”

  I disagree. I have a whole lifetime of experience that says otherwise.

  Love makes you weak is my motto.

  I keep climbing. I slowly make my way to the top. Every now and then I look down. Erma chats with an animated and happy Chloe. Darn, it looks like Erma isn’t planning on leaving until she tells me her “news.” I make it to the top of the cliff, plant my hands on the rock and boost myself over.

  Relief spreads through me and I let out a long sigh.

  I’m safe for at least a little longer.

  Chloe and Erma are still deep in conversation. Neither notices that I made it to the top. So, I do something that I am in no way ashamed of. Not one bit.

  I unclip the climbing rope, step out of my harness, drop it to the ground…and run.

  I run two miles all the way back to my apartment in downtown Romeo.
r />   Chloe, being the awesome best friend that she is, will grab my equipment and make sure it gets home.

  “What about that one?” asks Ferran. She points to a thirty-something man in a pink checkered shirt and gray slacks.

  Me, Chloe, Jessie and Ferran are at our bi-weekly girls’ night out at Juliet’s Wine Bar. We’re playing the ‘can you pick out the player’ game.

  “Player,” I say. “Too easy.”

  Jessie and Ferran laugh, but they believe me. It’s rare that I’m ever wrong about a man.

  “How do you know?” Chloe asks. She frowns, she’s such a trusting romantic that she always fell for the players and the sleaze balls and the jerks. Luckily, she found her soul mate and he’s actually a decent guy. Thank goodness.

  I tense up, because thinking about Chloe’s soul mate reminds me that Erma’s after me like a bloodhound on the trail.

  “But how do you know?” asks Chloe again. She always gives people the benefit of the doubt. Me…I never do.

  “Because,” I say. I wave my hand at the guy. “I can see his wedding ring tan line from here. Too obvious. Ferran, I know you like men in pink, but he’s married.”

  “Ugh. Darn my pink shirt kryptonite.”

  We laugh and I look around the wine bar and take in the scene. It’s unusually crowded. The barstools at the tasting bar are full, and all of the leather booths are packed tight. There are even couples and small groups standing around the wine barrel tables. Juliet’s serves mostly local New York wines, and some Californian, there’s a few French wines available, but Juliet prefers to support local wineries. I take another sip of my Riesling.

  “Is there any guy here that’s decent?” asks Ferran. “It’s been months since I broke up with Craig and I’m really in the mood for a one-nighter.”

  I raise my eyebrows. Ferran is more workaholic than romance-aholic, a one-night stand isn’t really her style.

  She scowls. “What? I have needs.”

  I shrug. You can’t argue with the truth. But…“Let me remind you of my philosophy on men.”

  Ferran groans and runs her hands through her curly black hair. “Not again.”

  “Oh boy,” says Jessie.

  She’s been hearing this recital for years, they all have, but it never hurts to have a refresher.

  “There are only two types of men in the world,” I say.

  I hold up a finger. “Players.” I hold up another finger. “And wanna-be players.” I point around the bar. “Player,” I say, pointing to a man in baggy jeans and a hoody. “Wanna-be player,” I say, pointing at his friend who is enviously watching him hit on a woman in a short dress.

  I go around the bar, pointing out each man. “Player. Wanna-be player. Player. Player. Wanna-be. And…player.”

  “So, no one,” says Ferran.

  Chloe rolls her eyes. “Don’t believe her. She’s scarred from her childhood. There are plenty of nice guys out there.”

  “Name one,” I say.

  Chloe huffs and looks offended. “My husband.”

  “Oh, right. Well yeah. But, he’s not…hmmm,” I backpedal, “maybe there are three types of men in the world. Players, wanna-be players, and your husband.”

  Chloe snorts and I know I’m forgiven.

  Chloe sets a hand on her rounded stomach and gets that happy, starry-eyed expression she’s had for months now. That’s right, my best friend is drinking juice at a wine bar, because she’s gonna be a mom. And me, I’m going to be a godmother. The baby’s due in two months. I can’t wait to meet her. But sometimes, when Chloe has me put my hand on her stomach to feel the baby kick, I have to admit, I don’t feel joy like I should, I feel…lonely.

  Alone and lonely.

  I point across the room at a dark haired man in a business suit, “there. He’s fine.”

  “Oh. No. No way. Uh uh,” Jessie says. Her brow draws down and she glares at the man leaning against the bar. Jessie is the town librarian and she usually likes everyone, so her vehement dislike of the guy is weird.

  “You know him?” I ask.

  “Unfortunately. That’s Will Williams. Your man radar failed on him Veronica, he’s the opposite of fine.” Jessie glares at the man’s back and I get the impression that she really doesn’t like him, and also, that she’s not about to talk about him.

  There’s a pause as we all look at the guy then turn away.

  “Anyway,” Ferran says, “let’s stop beating around the bush and talk about Erma.”

  I swallow the last of my wine and pour another glass from the bottle. “Let’s not,” I say.

  Chloe grins. “Come on, Vee. Give in gracefully. Aunt Erma’s seen your soul mate, there’s nothing you can do.”

  I look at my friends. Chloe, of course, is excited for me, although she’s trying to hide it because she knows I don’t want a soul mate. Ferran has a half-smile because she usually finds the humor in awful situations. Jessie looks worried for me because she’s sweet like that. I take another fortifying swallow of the wine.

  “I don’t want to know,” I say. No matter how alone I feel, I don’t want to find the man I’m supposed to love only to be hurt by him. It’s not worth it.

  “But why?” asks Chloe. “You don’t have to marry him. Or even love him. But wouldn’t you like to know, just know who your soul mate is?”

  “No,” I say. I don’t even need to think about it.

  Ever since I learned that Erma was a bona fide soul mate psychic I’ve been scared that she’d see mine. She’s foretold, who knows, probably hundreds of soul mates, and they all, every single one, has gotten married, had little babies, and lived happily ever after. Erma is a force of nature. Chloe has a family heirloom, this thick book full of photographs of all the happy couples Erma has matched. Chloe was Erma’s latest soul mate vision. And now…apparently I am.

  I don’t want it though. I think I’ll be the one person, the one vision of Erma’s that fails.

  “But why?” asks Jessie. “If Erma told me my soul mate I’d be ecstatic. I’d do everything in my power to win him.”

  “Not me,” says Ferran. “I have a career. Goals. I don’t need a man to ruin my life.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “Love makes you weak.”

  Chloe shakes her head. “Love makes you strong.”

  I raise an eyebrow at Chloe. She’s the only one at this table who knows the reasons why I don’t trust men and why I think that love is the worst thing that can happen to a woman.

  When I was little, cute with blonde hair in pigtails, and frilly dresses, my dad used to take me around and pretend to be a single dad so he could land sympathetic women. He called me his lucky charm. Every weekend, from age three to nine, my dad schlepped me around playgrounds, parks, grocery stores, diners, and libraries, using his single dad schtick to great effect. He hooked up with countless women lured in by the hapless single dad routine.

  Here’s the kicker. He wasn’t single. He and my mom were still married.

  But my mom knew what he was doing and she didn’t stop him. She said she loved him too much. She couldn’t leave him. It hurt too much to go and she couldn’t stop him. So she stayed. My mom, who had once been vibrant and strong, became weak.

  After I hit age nine, had a growth spurt and got braces, my dad couldn’t use the cute little girl and single dad scheme anymore. So, he came up with a different schtick, I don’t know what. But I’d seen enough, all player routines are the same. I recognize them to this day.

  There’s the “I’m so misunderstood” routine.

  The “you aren’t like other women” routine.

  And the “I feel so different with you” lie.

  The “only you understand me,” or “my ex was psycho,” (except how are all the exes psycho?), or “we’re just friends,” (trust me, they aren’t just friends), or “I love you,” which is the biggest play of all and is almost always whispered right before he lifts up your skirt and goes for it. Men trade love for sex, women trade sex for love. It’s not a
n even trade.

  Never trust a man. The minute you do, you make yourself weak.

  Ask my mom.

  After my dad died we found his little black book. In it there were nine hundred seventy-seven names of the women he had “dated.”

  My mom and I had an argument after finding that book. I told her she was weak for never leaving my dad, and she said I didn’t understand. I didn’t. I haven’t spoken to her since.

  I set down my wine glass and force out a smile. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to get married. Ever.”

  No matter how lonely I feel, or how much my heart squeezes when I feel Chloe’s baby girl kicking. It doesn’t matter.

  “What will you do when Erma catches up to you?” asks Jessie.

  “Run.”

  Jessie and Ferran laugh and Chloe rolls her eyes.

  “You say that now,” Chloe says. “But you’ll see. This is a good thing.”

  “Agree to disagree,” I say.

  “When you find the one, Vee, it’s the best feeling in the whole world.”

  Ferran shakes her head. “What if Erma says her soul mate is some creep? Or a toad? What if he’s—”

  “A player,” I say.

  The words are like acid in my gut. That’s my worst nightmare. To be in love with a player and not to be able to walk away. To remain in a relationship with a cheating, narcissistic player because of love. If I could guarantee that he wouldn’t be a player…but I can’t.