Out of the Ashes Read online

Noelle Davis

  “Annie Wilkes. I can’t find the file on…” My boss spouts off his newest lovely nickname for me as he asks me for a file I’ve likely already placed on his desk.

  Yeah, we call each other names. Which is just too freaking ridiculous, I know. But it’s kind of our … thing. It’s what we do. We fling jabs, insults, barbs back and forth all. The. Time. The crazy thing?

  It started before day one.

  “Are you planning on wearing clothing like that all the time, Marilyn?” The brazenness was evident in his tone as we went over my employment contract. As if I hadn’t accurately understood what he meant earlier by the whole, “You’ll be working around former military. Which means we dish out harassment in mass quantities.”

  That day I had been wearing a dress similar to the famed white dress Marilyn Monroe had worn in the, “Oops! Is that air blowing up my dress?” movie scene. Mine was yellow and I had paired it with a white button down cardigan. Trust me, it was suitable for the office, knee-length and not showing any bits of flesh in any scandalous manner. Nothing over the top. I was decidedly not attempting to be the sex symbol Ms. Marilyn had been.

  “Not sure, Shrek,” I had shot back without thinking. “Are you planning on being surly all the time?”

  For a split second, I damned my mouth and my lack of filter. It had gotten me into trouble before, I’m not going to lie. People had referred to it as being “spunky.” But, let’s be real here. It’s just a nice way of saying I have no filter and I give as good as I get.

  However, it didn’t seem to faze Foster. At all. Commence the spewing of banter back and forth. And the rest, as they say, was history.

  I knew he had done a more thorough background check than most employers do simply because of the job itself. I would have access to a buttload of information—some of it classified, perhaps. So, he had to make sure I was on the up and up. And I was—er, am.

  Kind of.

  Okay, so I may have lied to him at the time of my interview. And I’m pretty certain he knew as soon as it spewed forth from my lips—as soon as I had answered his probing question, “What made you move from Destin to Fernandina Beach?”

  I’m not proud of it, but I didn’t want to get into it with who I hoped was to be my new boss. Instead, I had given the nonchalant answer of, “I needed a change of scenery, wanted a job where I had more responsibility, and really love the quiet beach town of Fernandina Beach.” I also didn’t tell Foster the entire truth because a part of me didn’t want to jinx anything. Didn’t want to tempt fate and have my past, what I was running from—no, moving on from—rear its ugly head.

  And, let me tell you. Its head is ugly. Actually, more like fugly.

  Now, my boss is currently referring to me as the evil woman, Annie Wilkes, from the movie Misery. I should also mention that my boss, alpha male galore, also happens to have a body so fine and well-honed, you could ping quarters off of him.

  Anywhere. Seriously. A-ny-where. Those quarters would ping off of him and probably take out someone’s eye.

  And when the man smiles, one of those genuine smiles, and not the mischievous ones reserved for when he and I are trading insults, it’s like Fourth of July-style fireworks have erupted. Beautiful. Wondrous. Enough to make even Mother Teresa’s lady parts tingle.

  I know, I know. Shame on me and my blasphemous thoughts.

  As if that’s not enough, he has a dog. A dog he adores. A dog he runs with along the beach at the crack of dawn. I only know this because I may have stumbled out onto my back deck of the tiny beach house I rent with coffee in hand to sit and bask in the peacefulness that is the Atlantic Ocean. And, trust me, I would’ve known that body, that stride, anywhere.

  He runs without a shirt, by the way. Think tanned, toned, muscular goodness. Not to mention his short, close-cropped brown hair, and eyes the color of the finest whiskey. And that’s all wrapped up in a man who appears to barely stand me.

  I’ve clearly got some mad skills when it comes to having my boss not like me. But it’s a good thing, I promise. Because my lady parts are on a strict lockdown. Think of the part from the first Lord Of The Rings movie where Gandalf bellows, “You shall not pass!” That’s kind of what’s going on for me.

  Because I’ve already been ripped to shreds as it is. By the sole reason I left Destin. My emotions and my self-esteem had plummeted because of that “reason.” I knew it would only be a matter of time before things escalated further. That was why I planned my getaway under the radar with only two people knowing my destination. Only two people helped me—the only ones I trusted.

  So while I might have to internally scold my vagina for wanting to detach itself from my body and jump into Foster Kavanaugh’s arms, I have my reasons for keeping everything else under wraps. Me and men? We’re on a serious sabbatical.

  I just have to continuously remind my nether regions that while my boss might exude addicting crack-like pheromones, I must resist. I can’t afford to make another colossal mistake. Not to mention, I really enjoy my job and coworkers. And it’s pretty clear my boss doesn’t care for me and only keeps me around because I’m so freaking good at running this office.

  So as long as I look and don’t touch, it’s all good, right?

  Um, yeah. I clearly need to work on sounding more convincing.

  To keep reading Noelle and Foster’s story, click here.

  Acknowledgments

  This book was quite a challenge to write and I shed many tears while doing so. Hendy will always have a special place in my heart.

  To the two men whose experiences were interwoven to create Hendy’s story, no amount of thank you’s will suffice. Your sacrifices, your bravery, and your love for this country and its people is awe-inspiring. JC, I know you’re giving them a run for their money in heaven, as we speak. I certainly hope I did your story justice in my own way. And JR, thank you for being so willing to share the details of your ambush.

  My readers! The fact that I actually have readers is just … incredible!! Thank you for choosing to read these books. Without your support, your sweet emails and reviews, and you sharing my books with others, none of this would be possible. I am forever grateful.

  My husband and my daughter, thanks for being freaking awesome beyond words.

  My parents, for their continued support. And for my mother who has no qualms about telling others to read my books—even the ones with “questionable” titles. Also, FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT’S HOLY, just admit that I’m your favorite child, already. Geez.

  Sarah, my Australian BFF. There’s no way I could have made it this far without you or our WhatsApp texting, voice messages or phone dates. #LYLT

  Amber G., I adore you and your gracious generosity! I’m so incredibly grateful for all of your help!!

  Boldt’s Beach Babes—you guys are the most stellar individuals! I am beyond grateful for your support, excitement, and feedback when I share my ideas with you. I’m clearly biased but I think I have the best readers group!! Love you all!!

  All the book bloggers out there who have been so wonderful to me! I could never manage to truly show my gratitude for all of your support. Please know that the time you take to read and review my books and/or do promo posts is appreciated beyond words.

  My beta readers who spent their own time to comb through my book and help me refine it! You all are freaking stellar and I’m so grateful for your help!!

  Kata C., for just being you (which is awesome, by the way). I love you, mi playa.

  Lucy—Honestly, I don’t know where to begin. It’s a pleasure to have you in my life and I’m grateful for the laughter we’ve shared as well as the never-ending encouragement.

  JB—You are a rock star with your eagle eyes and help with everything. Thank you for loving Hendy as much as I do!

  Leddy—No words can manage to say how grateful I am for all of your help/insight. The next SS&B lunch date is on me.

  Steph—You willingly took on Hendy and Presley and helped
me so much! Massive thanks for your time and help with everything!

  Brandi—Seriously. I don’t know where to start. All I have to say is you are amazing and I adore you!

  Linda—Thanks for taking a chance on me and actually putting out. Results, that is. But, really. You’ve changed everything for me and made me see the possibilities and for that I could never thank you enough.

  To wine and coffee (don’t judge me, people) for being there when I’m under duress because of deadlines. Without you both, this book wouldn’t be possible.

  About The Author

  RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you’re in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can’t recall the lyrics to a particular 80’s song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she’s your girl.

  RC loves hearing from her readers at [email protected]. You can also check out her website at www.rcboldtbooks.com or her Facebook page www.facebook.com/rcboldtauthor for the latest updates on upcoming book releases.