Title: No
Regrets
Author: Claire Kent
Expected Publication: July 22,
2014
About No
Regrets
On my last
birthday, I made one vow for the year. Live with no regrets. Eleven months have
passed, though, and nothing has changed. I still sleep alone, spend my life
working, and never move out of my comfort zone.
Then the loss
of my dog throws my whole life out of orbit, and I end up in bed with a very
hot and slightly-too-young veterinarian, who has recently made a vow of his
own. Live with no strings. Josh is more than happy to help me with the things
I’ve been afraid to try. Semi-public sex. Spanking. Anal sex. He’s a willing
partner for everything I’ve wondered about, as long as I don’t demand
more.
He’s serious
about his no-strings philosophy. As serious as I am about living with no
regrets. I can’t help but fall for him, even though I know better. So my
biggest regret might be a broken heart.
Excerpt
I hadn’t
moved yet. I was still staring blindly at the dogs and people on the path when
I noticed from the corner of my eye a man slowing down from a run and then
jogging toward me.
Glancing
over, I expected him to head past me toward the parking lot, but he seemed to
be coming directly toward me.
When he got
close, I realized it was Dr. Bennett.
He looked
different than he had this morning. He wore a t-shirt and gym shorts, both wet
with perspiration. His face and short brown hair were wet too. He’d obviously
been running hard.
His eyes
rested on me as he approached. Obviously, he’d recognized me. Before I’d
recognized him.
“Hey,” he
said, breathing heavily. “How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
It was a
stupid question and a stupid answer, but that’s what people do. It was part of
living in a civilized world. You made up nice-sounding lies and you said them
to each other, instead of talking about how much the world sucked.
His face was
flushed, and he was having trouble catching his breath. Bending at the waist,
he rasped, “I better do a lap to cool down. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
I had no idea
why he’d bother coming back. We didn’t know each other. We had nothing to say
to each other. And I wasn’t really in the mood for talking.
He’d killed
my dog that morning, but I could hardly hold it against him.
He took a slow
jog around the track and ended up back at the bench with a water bottle in his
hand. His breathing was less ragged as he sat down beside me.
He didn’t say
anything, and I felt a little strange. I didn’t know exactly what he expected
from me. I certainly wasn’t going to cry on his shoulder, if that was what he
was thinking.
So I just
asked a casual question. “You’re done with your shift for the
day?”
“Yeah. I got
off at three.”
“Do you
always come here to run afterwards?”
“Sometimes.”
His vivid blue eyes rested on my face, searching or questioning or something.
“It’s on the way home.”
“Have you
lived in Lexington long?”
“I grew up
here—in Versailles, actually. But I just moved back to the area.”
“Where were
you before?”
“Vet
school.”
“Oh.” I
blinked, slightly surprised. I’d landed on his age as younger than me but still
in his thirties, but he must be quite a bit younger if he was just out of vet
school. “So you just got your degree?”
“Yeah.” As if
he could see the surprise in my face, he added, “I started late. I didn’t go
right after college.”
That made
more sense. The conversation, as casual as it was, managed to distract me from
thoughts of Polly, so I pursued it. “What were you doing before you went to vet
school.”
He didn’t
answer immediately, which prompted my curiosity. To take the edge off the
silence, I said, “Bank robber? Computer hacker?”
He gave a low
chuckle and smiled at me—not broadly, but it still transformed his face until
he was almost unbearably attractive, even as sweaty as he was. “Nothing that
exciting. I was in Chad.”
“Chad? In
Africa?
“Yeah.”
“Wow.” My
eyes widened in surprise. “What were you doing there?”
“International aid work. I started right after college and did it through most
of my twenties. I was mostly in Chad and Sudan.”
“So what made
you decide to be a vet instead?”
He gave a
strange little shrug and looked away from me. “I couldn’t do it anymore. And
animals…are different.”
I studied
him, trying to read his expression, trying to interpret the paradoxically empty
bitterness on his face. There was obviously more going on with him, but there
was no reason to expect him to tell me.
There was no
reason I needed to know.
“What do you
do?” he asked, obviously trying to change the subject.
“Paralegal.”
“Who do you
work for?”
We chatted
for almost a half-hour, about my job, about how he was settling back into the
area, about running—which I used to do, although not much
recently.
Eventually,
the perspiration had dried on his skin and his clothes, and we’d both faded
into reflective silence.
I felt a
little better—like I wasn’t on the verge of tears—but the thought of going home
still filled my stomach with dread.
He’d been
staring off in the distance, and he said without warning, “This morning was the
first time I’ve had to do that.”
I glanced at
him in surprise, realizing immediately what he was referring to. “Aren’t you
supposed to be professional and distanced about the whole thing?”
“I guess. I
thought I’d be able to keep the right perspective with animals, but it was
harder than I thought. She seemed like a very sweet dog.”
I took a
loud, ragged breath as emotion surged up. “She was.”
“I’m really
sorry.”
“Thanks.” I
took a few more breaths until I was in control again. “I really don’t want to
go home.”
“Do you want
to get a drink or something?”
I blinked.
“Right now, you mean?”
“Yeah. Why
not? I don’t want to go home either.”
I finally
landed on an explanation for his mood. He seemed adrift, kind of lost, not
emotional but torn in some way.
I wondered
what he’d experienced in Chad. What it had done to him. Why he’d decided
against working with people anymore.
Even
yesterday, I would have said “no” to his invitation. For the last few months, I
hadn’t done much of anything except go to work and take care of Polly. I hadn’t
liked to leave her in the evenings.
It had been
years since I’d had a drink with a guy I didn’t know, and this particular guy
was too young for me anyway.
But it was
just a drink. Nothing more. He wasn’t coming on to me. He was just being nice.
And it would give me something to do with myself, other than go home to an
apartment without Polly.
I felt a
little better, talking to him. Like the world wasn’t about to pull me into some
sort of black hole.
I remembered
my vow, eleven months ago, on the day I’d turned thirty-eight.
I was
supposed to be living with no regrets, and so far I hadn’t done a good
job.
This would be
something I wouldn’t have to regret.
“Okay,” I
said. “Why not?”
About Claire
Kent
Claire has
been writing romance novels since she was twelve years old. She has a PhD in
British literature and, when she's not writing, she teaches English at the
university level.
She also
writes contemporary romance under the pen nameNoelle
Adams.
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