Mr. June: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Calendar Boys Book 6) Read online

  MR. JUNE

  Calendar Boys Series

  NICOLE S. GOODIN

  COPYRIGHT

  Mr. June

  Published by Nicole S. Goodin

  Digital edition

  ISBN: 978-0-9951206-0-0

  Copyright 2019 by Nicole S. Goodin

  All rights reserved. ©

  This ebook is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Mr. June

  First published June 2019

  All rights reserved. ©

  Cover design by Nicole Goodin

  Images purchased from Deposit Photos

  Editing by Spell Bound

  DISCLAIMER

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, places, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges all song titles, song lyrics, film titles, film characters, trademarked statuses and brands mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners.

  Nicole S. Goodin is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  THANK YOU!

  MR. JULY

  OTHER TITLES

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  PLAYLIST

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  UPCOMING TITLES

  DEDICATION

  For all the babes born in June

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book has been written using UK English and may contain euphemisms and slang words that form part of the New Zealand spoken word.

  Please remember that the words are not misspelled. They are slang terms and form part of everyday, New Zealand vernacular.

  I.e: I’m from New Zealand and sometimes we say weird things down here… please try and be cool about it.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mack

  “Mack, do you copy?” the voice in my earpiece asks again.

  I groan and push off the wall I’ve been peacefully leaning against for the past half hour. “Give it to me one more time, Gilly, I’m hoping I misheard you.”

  I hear him chuckle. “Don’t be like that; she keeps things interesting at least.”

  Interesting. That’s one word for it. I can think of a shit load more colourful ones, none of which will actually help me in the slightest when it comes to removing this particular problem.

  “You better get ready, man, the cuckoo is about to fly right into the nest, I repeat, right into the nest.”

  “Location?” I bark as I round the side of the building.

  “North west corner, same as the week before last.”

  “Someone call security,” I mutter.

  “You are the security, Mack,” He replies, clearly amused.

  “Well this security needs its own fucking security; this bitch is crazy.”

  “Maybe you should try spanking that ass.” He chuckles.

  I grind my teeth together in frustration.

  “Go and do something else, Gilly.”

  “Like what, boss?”

  “I don’t care. Do literally anything other than talk to me,” I snap as I approach the north west corner just in time to see a foot with a blood-red high heel on it swinging over the top.

  She might be a giant pain in my ass, but I’ve got to give her credit, I have no idea how she manages to scale that fence in those shoes.

  I cross my arms across my chest and wait, my already-waning patience thinning further.

  The other shoe follows, and I let my eyes trail up her legs and over her ass as she lowers herself down over my side of the fence.

  There’s fuck all to her, and she’s got quite a drop to make it to the ground, but I’m not about to offer her a hand down.

  She peers down at the ground over her shoulder, her now-orange hair – it was purple last week - blowing in the breeze, before she lets go of her hold and sails to the grass beneath her.

  I raise a brow as she lands on the balls of her feet elegantly, and brushes down her black pants before turning, her eyes landing on me instantly.

  She pouts when she sees who’s here to meet her. “What are you doing here?” she demands.

  Shit. She’s even more beautiful in person than she is on the monitor.

  “This is my job, sweetheart. I think a better question is, what are you doing here?”

  “The other one is meant to be on garden duty today.” She pushes those big puffy lips out even further, but what’s clearly been working on Hugh – the ‘other one’ she’s referring to, isn’t going to fly with me, no matter how god damn sexy she looks.

  She’s going to have to do a hell of a lot better than that.

  Weak men are the very reason this little hell raiser is here in the first place, and the reason she keeps getting past our defences.

  The boss was weak for sleeping with her in the first place, and half the men on my staff are even weaker for letting her distract them with a flash of her thigh or a pout of those lips.

  She’s nearly breached the house three times in the past month, and that shit is stopping right now, even if I have to get my own hands dirty to make it happen.

  “Sorry to inconvenience you,” I drawl.

  Her eyes drift lazily over my shoulder and past me to the huge building housing the people I’m here to protect.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Oops.” She smirks and shrugs her dainty shoulders. “Too late.”

  “He’s not here.”

  She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  “Oh, c’mon now, big guy, we both know that’s a lie. If he wasn’t here, you wouldn’t be either.” She takes a step in my direction – a prowl that’s designed to make men weak in the knees.

  Not me though. It doesn’t matter how hot she is, these knees are holding strong, for now at least.

  She’s right about one thing though. It was a lie. William is right inside. But she’s wrong about the last part. Thanks to her, I’m stuck here nearly twenty-four seven, keeping an eye out for her next break-in attempt.

  “You want to go back up and over, or is going out the front flavour of the day, fruit loop?”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll just pop inside.”

  I chuckle darkly. “Sure thing, want me to hang up your coat for you?” I ask, sarcasm dripp
ing from my tone.

  She narrows her eyes at me and sets her hands on her hips. “You’re going to be a problem for me, aren’t you?”

  “Every god damn day of the week,” I reply.

  She huffs out a breath. “I’m not going to make it easy for you to get rid of me.”

  “Wouldn’t dream that you would,” I drawl.

  She pops one of her dark brows at me. “I don’t go quietly.”

  “Oh, believe me, sweetheart. I’m aware. You might not have met me before, but I know you, Cristal… and trust me, your reputation precedes you.”

  She gives me a look, and I can’t tell if she’s pleased I know how she operates, or if she’s pissed about it.

  She’s about to start, I can feel it.

  I count down in my head.

  Five, four, three, two, one…

  Right on cue, she starts. First, she makes a break for the house, and when I catch her around the waist, the yelling and cursing begins.

  “Crazy fucking bitch,” I mutter to myself as I sling her over my shoulder, her ass only inches from my face.

  I can just imagine Gilly watching on the monitor, howling with laughter I bet. I glance at one of the security cameras and flip the middle finger – just for good measure.

  “Put me down, you big hulk!” she screams at me, taking a break from her incessant yelling at the house for a moment.

  “Gladly,” I announce as I cart her out the now-open front gate and deposit her onto the road side.

  She stamps her foot in frustration and glares at me.

  “I’ll be back, you know that, right?”

  “I’m sure you will be,” I drawl as I step back inside the gate and watch it close between us. “And just so you know, your crazy is showing.”

  She considers making a break for it, but she must realise she hasn’t got a hope in hell of getting past me because she stays put on her side of the solid iron gate.

  “My crazy is always showing.” She growls in frustration before stomping off down the road, back to that flash-ass, shiny black car she’ll have parked somewhere nearby.

  It makes no sense. She’s clearly not after the boss for the money – it seems she has plenty of that already, from some other poor sucker if I had to guess.

  “Gilly,” I demand through my mic.

  “Mack,” he replies, and I can hear in his voice how much he’s enjoying this.

  “I want an electric wire around the top of the boundary fence… and I want it yesterday.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kinsley

  I yawn and stretch my hands above my head, my long black hair spilling around me.

  I haven’t slept that well in weeks. I certainly haven’t had dreams like that in a long time.

  “Good morning, Ms. Barlett.”

  I glance at my clock. Seven on the dot. Same as every morning.

  “Morning, Monica.” I yawn again, smiling as I think about my dream, or more importantly the handsome stranger that starred in it.

  She pulls open the curtains and light floods into my lavish bedroom.

  “The usual for breakfast?” she asks as she ties back the curtains.

  I don’t feel like fruit and yoghurt this morning. I’ve got a sudden urge to stuff my face. “How about some pancakes instead?”

  “Bacon, maple syrup and blueberries?” she asks as she crosses the room.

  I grin at her. “You already know the answer to that; it’s not pancakes without it.”

  “I’ll have them ready for you when you come downstairs, Ms. Barlett.”

  “Thank you, Mon!” I call after her retreating frame.

  I’ve given up asking her to call me Kinsley. You’d think she’d be comfortable with the informality given she virtually raised me when I was a little girl, but nope, always with the official title.

  I blame my father. As much as I love him, he’s a pompous bastard, and he’s all about his rules.

  I roll out of bed and throw on a deep-blue, silk robe, my toes sinking into the plush carpet.

  Everything is so comfortable when you’re rich.

  I pad across my bedroom and into my perfectly clean bathroom. Everything is always spotless when you’re rich too. The perks are endless. I roll my eyes at myself. Internal sarcasm really is wasted.

  I arch a perfectly manicured brow at myself in the mirror and comb my fingers through my hair.

  I wash my face, pee, and brush my teeth.

  Brushing before and after breakfast is a habit that makes no sense, but one I’ve never been able to shake.

  I follow the smell of pancakes downstairs to the kitchen. Monica might be a sucker for the rules too, but she sure knows how to make a killer stack of pancakes.

  “Good morning, darling.”

  “Morning, Daddy.” I round the bench and give my father a kiss on the cheek.

  He’s got a coffee in one hand and the newspaper in the other. Just like every day.

  Nothing much ever changes around here.

  My father likes things neat, in order, and on a strict routine.

  The whole place runs like clockwork, anyone who messes with the king’s castle is simply fired and replaced with someone more efficient.

  I’m seated no longer than thirty seconds when Monica places the stack of pancakes in front of me and a coffee next to that.

  “Thank you, Mon.”

  Daddy looks at my breakfast choice in question.

  I grab a piece of bacon from the top and pop it in my mouth. “Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll be back to the healthy option tomorrow.”

  He strives for perfection in everything – my waist line is no exception.

  “What have you got planned for today, darling?”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Absolutely nothing if you had your way, I think to myself.

  Daddy doesn’t have a wife, not since my mother screwed things up fifteen years ago, so instead of a trophy wife, he’s got me; a trophy daughter.

  I’m twenty-four years old, I have no qualifications, no career, I still live at home and I’m still expected to call my dad, Daddy, for fuck’s sake.

  I smile sweetly at him. “I have studio time at ten and I have to meet Jennifer at the charity at three.”

  It’s total bullshit, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  The only thing I’m encouraged to do are my hobbies and ‘passion projects’, so if he thinks I’m practising ballet and helping homeless people or whoever with something, then so be it.

  I will be dancing today, but it sure as hell isn’t going to be in a ballet studio. And Jennifer will get her donation, it just won’t be hand delivered by me.

  “That’s wonderful,” he says, not even bothering to pull his eyes from the paper in front of him.

  I do roll my eyes this time. It’s all just so wonderful. There goes that internal sarcasm again – so wasted.

  I slice into my stack of pancakes and take a bite.

  He slugs back the last of his coffee and gets to his feet, tucking the paper under his arm as he goes.

  “Don’t forget about the charity dinner tonight, Kinsley. I’ll have Monica lay out an outfit.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  It’ll be some flashy, overpriced dress no doubt, with heels, jewellery and shoes to match – I’d bet my inheritance on that.

  The trophy daughter will be out in force this evening.

  He stops in the doorway and says something in a hushed voice to one of his security team.

  I wink at the man in the black suit as my father disappears.

  I don’t know who he thinks he is – forcing his security to wear suits twenty-four seven, but I do know what he would have said to the goon in the corner.

  The orders would have just been given to keep tabs on me. Same as every other day.

  My father is a smart man, but he’s also a busy one, and he can’t see everything that goes on – specifically that I keep his security team’s balls in my purse.

  I bring another
mouthful of pancakes up to my mouth and deliberately make the action slow and seductive as the beefed-up goon watches from across the room.

  I smirk as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down slowly. He’s watching my little show and he likes it.

  Men. They’re all the god damn same.

  I only had to sleep with my father’s head of security once, not that it was a chore in the least; the man is hot as hell, and now I have the leverage to run this place.

  He even so much as thinks about snitching to my father about what I get up to when he’s not around, and I spill. Not only would he be fired for bedding the boss’s daughter, but he’d probably wind up dead too.

  The pathetic excuse for security looks away, subtly trying to rearrange the hard-on he’s sporting, and I giggle.

  Men.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mack

  “Gilly, all clear out front?”

  “Clear.”

  “Clear out back too, Mack,” Tom chimes in.

  I tug at the collar of my jacket, I fucking hate wearing this formal shit, especially when I’m working. It’s too restricting, I feel like I’ve got a hand at my throat.

  “Nothing to report in here,” I tell them. “Next check in fifteen, over and out.”

  I’m speaking discretely into a small mic on my wrist, ninety percent of the people in this room would be none the wiser, and the other ten percent are running security in the same way I am.

  Boss wouldn’t normally require four of us with him to something this heavily guarded, but this Cristal chick is proving to be more resourceful than I would have liked, so security has been upped.

  Especially since his wife is here with him tonight.

  The man himself – William Wellman – catches my eye, and I nod at him once, letting him know we’re all clear, for the moment at least.