Mixed Read online

  Table of Contents

  Newsletter Sign Up

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Afterword

  Also by Maya Hughes

  About the Author

  Mixed

  Breaking Free Series #2

  Maya Hughes

  Copyright © 2017 by Maya Hughes

  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.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is pure coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictionally.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademark, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  Created with Vellum

  For my wonderful husband, whose love and support has been made my writing possible and who seems just as excited about my characters as I am.

  Contents

  Newsletter Sign Up

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Afterword

  Also by Maya Hughes

  About the Author

  Newsletter Sign Up

  If you’d like exclusive bonus chapters, news about upcoming releases, ARC opportunities and other bonus content, sign up for the Maya Hughes’s newsletter!

  1

  Jen paced in her office, nervous energy flowing through her. Her hands itching, she tapped her pen on her hand, she stalked over to her desk. There was a blank notepad lying on top of all the papers. It called to her, a siren of comfort in her sterile and cold office and she couldn’t stop herself. She picked up a pencil lying next to it and sat on the edge of the desk. As if her hand had a mind of its own, she began to sketch Alexandra Davies. Her longtime friend had sent her a frantic text letting her know that the long absent father of her daughter had suddenly reappeared. He’d shown up out of the blue, after skipping out on the pair for the past six years as he embarked on his Hollywood movie star adventure. There wasn’t more information in the text than that, so she had no idea where Alex’s head was right now.

  She’d sketched Alex so many times over the years that she didn’t even need to see her to be able to do it. A profile developed under her hand as she drew her former college roommate, imagining her facial features and expressions as she tried to calm herself, breathing through the fear Jen knew Alex had when it came to Gabe returning to their lives. Her pencil flew across the paper as the first outlines of her friend’s face took shape. She always started the details of the picture with Alex’s smile. Alex’s smile could stop anyone in their tracks. She was sure Alex’s lips were twisted into a grimace as she tried to sort through what his return meant. Next, it was the wild and unruly hair that never seemed to behave. She always ran her fingers through it when she stressed about anything.

  Next, she worked on shading the space between Alex’s brow bone and her eye lids, which she knew were scrunched up with anxiety. Her eyes always popped in her sketches, just like they did in real life. She wished she could be there to give Alex a big hug. It was rough being so far away from her two favorite ladies.

  Her pencil ran down the page, rounding Alex’s chin and up her cheeks. Using her finger, she smudged the lines along Alex’s cheekbones to fill them out. She moved on to Alex’s nose and down to her cupid’s bow, finishing off the smile that she knew her friend wasn’t wearing at that moment.

  She added more curls to Alex’s hair, showing them tumbling out of her messy bun like they always did. Adding a couple of accents to her eyes, she pushed the paper back and looked at the whole picture. It looked like she hadn’t lost her touch after a few weeks of not having time to sketch. Staring at the sketch made her miss Alex and Emma even more.

  Flipping the page, she started to sketch the office. She fixated on the lamp and her hand flew over the page as she brought every curve and angle to life. It helped keep her calm as she thought about her friend losing her mind right now. She knew Alex was on the edge and she hoped she called her soon. She hoped this would all turn out okay. If not for Alex’s sake, then for Emma’s. She jumped at the knock on her door. Her pencil tumbled out of her hand as her office door swung open.

  “Jen, do you have a Martinsen case file?” one of the other senior associates said, poking his head into her office. She bent to pick up the pencil.

  “What’s that?” he said, trying to get a look at her pad. She quickly closed it over and shoved it into her bag.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, sifting through the case files on her desk. Locating the file, she grabbed it and handed it over.

  “Are you coming to lunch? On the firm, since we’re working the weekend. There’s a new place that opened a little while ago. Everyone said it’s amazing.”

  “Sure, why not?” she said, shrugging, realizing that she wasn’t going to get any real work done worrying about Alex.

  The only silver lining to working this weekend was that, apparently, the new bar around the corner from her office had excellent drink specials for mid-day weekend drinking. On the weekends her team was confined to the office, they usually ordered delivery. But she had a feeling that weekend work would not be as dire as it had been with this place so close by.

  The breakfast crowd petered out, but the brunch crowd was in full swing. She needed a break after the all-nighter she’d pulled. If she could get back to the office and make it a few more hours after this drink, she would finally be done with her contract review and amendments. Who said switching law firms to make partner would make things easier? No one—that’s who.

  Her mini-tacos were delicious, but weren’t calling to her like mini versions of food usually did. She devoured them by the forkful, tuning out the drone of her co-workers, who were talking about some new car one of them bought. She'd much rather be out with her team, but hated having them work the weekends if she could avoid it. Life as an associate is hard enough, but when a senior associate springs weekend work on you at the last minute, it sucks.

  She looked out the large front windows of the bar. The light from the building across the street reflected onto the passersby, giving them this ether eal glow. She wished she had her sketch pad in her hand. This morning had been her first artistic outburst in a while. It had been weeks and her hands were itching for a canvas, a sketch pad—anything—but things had been so busy at the firm. If she wasn’t sleeping in the office, she passed out the second she walked into her apartment.

  Vibrations from the table pulled her from her daze. Everyone picked up their phones, then put them back down when they realized it wasn’t theirs ringing. It was her. Alex’s name blazed across the screen as the phone vibrated its way toward the edge of the table. She held her breath and accepted the call, heavy breathing coming over the line.

  “I was wondering how long it would take you to call me.”

  “Are you out?” came the frantic voice from the other end.

  “Yeah, but hold on. I’ll go find some place quiet.” She stood, grabbing her notepad, and pointed to her phone when her co-workers threw her a glance. ‘Client’ she mouthed, as she walked to the back of the bar. The crowd thickened as she pushed further back. She wove her way back to the area near the bathrooms. A long hallway past the bathrooms ended with a set of stairs going up, she glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone saw her. The coast clear, she climbed the stairs, trying to get away from the din of the crowd.

  At the top of the stairs, the noise from below pushed up to her, but the door with the frosted-glass window in front of her signaled refuge from the commotion. She tried the knob and the door swung open. She quickly darted inside and closed the door behind her.

  “Okay, I can hear you now,” she said, standing in the middle of what looked like an office. There were a few filing cabinets, some bookcases, and an old leather couch. A huge chestnut desk with a lamp on it sat in the middle of the room covered in papers. She put her notepad down on the desk and waited for Alex.

  “I’m freaking out, Jen! I’m completely and totally losing my mind here,” Alex practically screamed through the phone.

  Jen held the phone away from her ear, before putting it back. “Take some deep breaths, Alex. Put your head between your knees if you need to.”

  “Already there,” Alex said, sounding a little less in danger of her head exploding. Jen envisioned her sitting with her head between her legs, hair tousled, curls going everywhere, cheeks red.

  “Your text wasn’t exactly long, but you said Gabe showed up and had only recently found out that Emma exists and is his daughter. How is that possible?”

  “Apparently, Aaron, his manager, was treating my letters like fan mail and kept them away from Gabe. He said he found all my letters in his manager’s office and came here as soon as he could book a ticket,” Alex said, somewhat calmer than before.

  “What an asshole,” she said, rage bubbling at what had been done to her friend and her child. She tried to keep a level head and not let her emotions get the best of her. “That’s intense. Do you believe him?”

  “Yes, I think I do.”

  “Do you still have the custody papers you had me draw up a few years ago?” They continued to talk and she attempted to keep Alex off the ledge.

  “Hello? Earth to Alex?”

  “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “I asked how you’re going to deal with being in such close proximity to Gabe for the next week.”

  A thumping sound drew her attention as she strained, holding her breath waiting for someone to approach. Still sitting on the desk, she couldn’t tell if it was someone only coming up the stairs or someone coming into the office.

  “Okay, give me a call if you need me to go over the paperwork again or if you need to talk. I’m only in the office for a few hours after I leave here, and then a little bit tomorrow. But don’t worry, I’m going out tonight for a few drinks with a couple of people. And I will not be stuffy Jen the Lawyer, I will be Jen the Drinker,” she promised, turning her back to the door. Jen knew she was probably lying, but Alex worried and she didn't want her to know how much she'd been working lately. The sounds from the stairs seemed to recede, then the volume increased and a man barged into the office and froze, staring at her sitting on the desk. He was gorgeous, not in a typical way, but in a way where she itched to capture him on paper or canvas. All his lines and angles, especially when pinched like they were right now, made her want to run her fingers over his face, memorizing every inch of it. His dark black brows drew together in confusion, then anger.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?” he shouted, gesturing with a plate of food in his hand.

  “One sec,” she said into the phone, placing her hand over the mouthpiece. “Hey, just give me a second and I’ll be right with you.” The black-haired guy with blue eyes—unusual combination, she noted—stared at her with his mouth open and his plate full of chicken. She turned her back to the guy and finished up her conversation with Alex.

  “Bye, Alex. Don’t forget—I’m here if you need me.”

  “I know. Thanks. Bye, Jen,” Alex said, ending the call.

  Jen whirled around to speak with the guy in the office, who was still standing slack-jawed inside the doorway.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing in here?” he shouted this time, coming out of his stupor.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, slipping her phone into her pocket and walking to the office door. “I had a really important call I needed to take and it was really noisy downstairs.”

  “That doesn’t mean you just barge into someone’s office like you own the place.”

  “That’s what happens when doors are left unlocked. A terrible practice, actually. You could end up with someone poking around someplace they aren’t wanted.” She attempted to get by him, but he blocked her with his body. His glare intensified.

  “You need to tell me what the hell you’re doing in here!” He grabbed her arm. “Did Cheryl send you?”

  “What?” She ripped her arm out of his grip. “Get your damn hands off me! No, I don’t know a Cheryl, so she definitely didn’t send me.”

  “Were you going through my things? He craned his neck to try to get a look past her. “What were you doing at my desk?”

  “Nothing. I was sitting there while I was on my call. I’m sorry, but it was sort of an emergency call.” He eyed her suspiciously and stomped over to the desk, checking to see if anything was amiss.

  “Get the hell out of my office,” he growled. She held her hands up and backed out of the office.

  “Really sorry, no need to be such an asshole,” she said, striding out of the office and back down the stairs.

  Mark stared at the desk, taking in every item on there to see if anything was out of place. The computer was still on the locked screen and his disorganized organization method all seemed to be in order. The only thing he noticed out of place was a notepad that wasn’t his. Setting his plate down, he picked it up and flipped through it. Checking each page, he flipped the pages. There were random notes, legal lingo, and nothing related to him or the bar. He flipped another page and the picture there took his breath away. He glanced at his closed office door, thinking about the crazy woman who’d stormed out, and then back to the notepad. Was she an artist?

  His phone vibrating in his back pocket pulled him from his thoughts of the office intruder. Mark pulled the phone out and sat down in the desk chair. Grimacing, his ex’s name flashed across the screen.

  “Cheryl,” he answered, no need for pleasantries. He shoveled the food into his mouth without even tasting it, which was a real shame because Rox was a whiz in the kitchen.

  “Hello to you too, Mark. I wanted to know the best time to come by and drop off the finalized sales contract.”

  “You can have them sent to my lawyer, just like I sent the divorce papers to yours. But it won’t do any good, there is no need for a sales contract because I’m not selling this place.” Mark pushed his plate away, no longer in the mood for any food, even food that smelled as good as the seasoned chicken Rox loved to make. He could hear Cheryl’s overly dramatic sigh through the phone.

  “Mark, how many times do we have to go over this? You don’t have the money to buy me out of The Bramble. That place was always so important to you, wasn’t it?” she said, sneering. “You have two choices: either buy me out or sell it to get me what's mine. You’re already neck-deep in debt when it comes to that place, so you know the only choice you have is to sell. We’ve gone over this a million times.”

  “I’m not going to fight with you about this again. Send everything to my lawyer and I’ll look at it then.”

  “Fine, Mark. Have it your way,” she huffed, ending the call. He set his phone beside his plate and shook his head as he attempted to take another bite of the food. Throwing down his fork in disgust, he pushed back the desk chair so hard it slammed against the wall, and he paced around his office running his hands through his jet-black hair. This was so fucked!

  His ex hated this place, had cheated on him, and was now trying to take it all away from him. He needed money and fast, but where was he going to get that kind of cash? He had an appointment at the bank coming up on Monday, but he didn’t know if he would be able to get another loan. Bringing in an investor turned his stomach and has sweat breaking out across his forehead. There was no one who could look after this place like he could. An investor meant new changes, new obligations, and pressure. What if they wanted to push him out?

  Cheryl wasn’t even technically an investor and she’d managed to make his life hell when it came to this place. He couldn’t take that chance with someone else having control over The Bramble. It was a part of his parents’ legacy that he didn’t want to see handed over to anyone else. He’d poured his blood, sweat, and tears into this place.