Introduction

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kristen Ashley brings a new novel in her River Rain series…
From a very young age, Chloe Pierce was trained to look after the ones she loved.
And she was trained by the best.
But when the man who looked after her was no longer there, Chloe is cast adrift—just as the very foundation of her life crumbled to pieces.
Then she runs into tall, lanky, unpretentious Judge Oakley, her exact opposite. She shops. He hikes. She drinks pink ladies. He drinks beer. She’s a city girl. He’s a mountain guy.
Obviously, this means they have a blowout fight upon meeting. Their second encounter doesn’t go a lot better.
Judge is loving the challenge. Chloe is everything he doesn’t want in a woman, but he can’t stop finding ways to spend time with her. He knows she’s dealing with loss and change.
He just doesn’t know how deep that goes. Or how ingrained it is for Chloe to care for those who have a place in her heart, how hard it will be to trust anyone to look after her…
And how much harder it is when it’s his turn.

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Excerpt

Chapter One

The Two Words

Judge

Now…

Considering the fact he’d brought in a coffee for his buddy, Rix, who managed the store, Judge was down on the floor where Rix’s office was, not on the top floor where his was, so he saw her when she walked into the shoe section.

He’d dated Meg.

And before Meg, there was Jess.

And before Jess, there was Kimberly.

They all had different color hair, Meg and Jess were tall, Kim was not.

But even so, Judge had a type.

He knew it.

And that woman who’d strolled up to the shoe displays?

She was his type.

Multiplied by a thousand.

Christ, she was beautiful.

And bad news.

He could tell that last by the outfit, including her ridiculous, high-heeled booties.

He’d worked at River Rain Outdoor stores for nine years—starting as a sales associate when he was still going to college and advancing to director of the Kids and Trails program.

In all that time, he didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman walk into any of their stores wearing shoes like hers.

And when he came down again a half an hour later to hit Rix’s office to make some copies because the copier in the corporate offices at the top level was busted, he noticed she was still there.

He also noticed he had further evidence she was bad news.

That evidence?

The sheer number of boxes of boots that she was trying on scattered around her.

She looked like she’d not set foot on a hiking trail in her life.

And she looked like she was there because she’d already trolled through all the boutiques around the square, but this hadn’t assuaged her shopping fix, because nothing really did.

Therefore, there was a possibility, after making a member of staff bring her fifteen pairs of shoes, she’d walk out not buying anything.

She’d do this not thinking a thing of it.

However, he noted some of the boots she was trying on were riding boots, and Judge could see that round ass of hers in the saddle on top of a horse.

Wearing a riding habit.

Even if she was trouble, and he had not the slightest interest (or he was telling himself that), he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

Because he was a moron.

That said, she caught his gaze every time.

So he was looking.

But so was she.

His instincts proved true when he came down for the third time with more to copy, and he again walked through the shoe section to get to the office in the back. Doing this close to where she was seated, still trying on boots, because, yes, in the fifteen minutes between then and now, he had not stopped being a moron.

And again, she caught his gaze.

He had no clue why, but as her gorgeous hickory brown eyes hit his, he muttered, “Nice booties.”

Her back shot straight, and she demanded, “What did you just say?”

Yup.

Moron.

He shook his head in an effort to shake some sense into it, then dipped his chin to her and kept walking.

“Excuse me,” she snapped, and Judge continued on his way, but looked over his shoulder at her. “What did you just say to me?” she repeated when she caught his eyes.

“Nothing, miss, have a nice day,” he replied.

“Do you work here?” she asked.

He drew breath into his nose, stopped and turned to face her.

She’d been sitting.

She was now standing.

Fucking fuck.

Straight on and standing close to her?

She wasn’t beautiful.

She was stunning.

Facing her, not for the first time, Judge wished Prescott was a good two hours further from Scottsdale. Being an easy drive away, it was one of the weekend playgrounds for people like her.

Now, it was September, when temperatures around Phoenix were gearing down, so things would peter off with folks from down south coming up to get away from the heat.

Coming up to play weekend warrior, do stupid shit at campsites, bring up their guns and shoot things when they had no clue how, or any intention of field dressing a deer, not to mention eating its meat.

Tossing their water bottles during a hike, and not doing that in trash receptacles.

Having disposable water bottles at all.

Looking down on the townies.

But there she was.

Tall. Shiny, chocolate brown hair. Slender but curvy.

But for Judge (outside the hair, and those long-ass legs), it was her neck.

Her neck was long and graceful, which made her seem almost…

Vulnerable.

When he knew she was probably not.

And her hands.

Those hands were insanely beautiful.

Because of the man he was and the life he liked to live, even though it made him stupid, and this was part of the reason he was a moron (and all the other parts surrounded his taste in women as well), he got off on the way she dressed.

Judge had always liked a woman who looked after herself in that way (and others, and those others didn’t revolve around her hiking or climbing or doing something to keep fit, but instead things like giving herself facials and having polished nails—like he hadn’t learned the hard way, repeatedly, that opposites did not attract).

Her way of dressing was overtly expensive. Smart. Lowkey dramatic (and yeah, she made those opposing concepts work together). And she had a definite personal style she was completely confident in.

She also had a significant attitude, if the flash in those eyes was anything to go by.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.

“So you do work here,” she stated.

“I do, ma’am, I—”

He said no more when she griped, “Oh my God, do not call me ‘ma’am’.”

Judge nearly laughed.

Instead of doing that, he started, “I’m sorry, I—”

He again got no more out.

“You should be sorry,” she declared. “Do you often walk through the store that employs you, making personal comments to the customers?”

He’d done that.

He’d said two words, but the words he said were not what he meant, and she hadn’t missed it.

It was uncool.

But he knew why he did it.

Because he didn’t even know this woman’s name, and she was under his skin, so he’d done it angling for what was happening right then.

The particulars of that, however…

They weren’t something he was going to think about.

And now he needed to move on from what he’d instigated and get far away from her…and fast.

“You’re right, I should have kept my mouth shut,” he admitted. “You have my apologies.” He patted his chest with a flat palm. “Sincerely. I was out of line.”

She watched his hand on his chest, and for some reason, she got even more ticked when she did.

She then raised her eyes to his.

And he felt a variety of things in a variety of places (and regrettably, one of those places was his dick), when he saw she was not going to let this go.

She was going to dig in.

Deep.

“And I asked, do you do that often?” she demanded.

“I apologized, and—”

“An apology must be accepted,” she sniffed.

“And it should be,” he shot back, “if it’s genuine. Which it was.”

She raised a perfectly arched, perfectly waxed, dark brow.

“Was it?” she asked, making clear she knew the answer and it wasn’t what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Of course it—”

“Please,” she drawled. “Don’t assume I’m stupid.”

“I’m not assuming you’re stupid,” he returned. “In fact, if I made an assumption about you, that wouldn’t be it.”

What the fuck are you doing, man? Don’t goad the woman. Walk away.

Her head cocked, which wasn’t a surprise. What was in it undoubtedly was her weapon of choice.

“And what would that assumption be?” she inquired.

“How about you get on with your day, and I do the same thing?” he suggested.

“No, I’d really like to know what that assumption would be,” she pushed.

And Judge let her push him.

He knew why he did.

He also wished he didn’t.

He looked her down and up, then down again, making sure to take in the boxes of riding boots, hiking boots, rain boots, and for shit’s sake, a pair of mountaineering boots, and finally, the delicate, expensive, spike heeled booties she’d walked in on, then back to her.

“You’re very aware the cost of your shoes could feed dozens of children for a week, and you still used that money to buy them. I’ll leave it at that,” he shared.

She blinked, rapidly, several times, because what he said was out of line.

And he saw it happening.

Before, she was miffed.

Before, she was in a mood.

Now…

She was pissed.

Precisely his intention.

Because she was fantastic.

And he was an idiot.

“So do you verbally attack all the women that you make erroneous judgements about who come into this store?” she asked. “Or,” she drifted one of her beautiful hands in a spiral through the air, “wherever you might be.”

“Only ones that have fifteen pairs of boots they’ve made one of our associates go fetch for them when, let’s be honest, you don’t even know what mountaineering is.”

She made an irritated noise clicking her tongue before she retorted, “I’m sure when I get back to Duncan’s and ask, he can explain it to me.”

That was when Judge blinked.

Not rapidly. The opposite.

And only once.

Duncan?

She wouldn’t have mentioned “Duncan” unless she meant Duncan Holloway.

His boss.

In fact, everyone’s boss. He was founder and CEO of River Rain stores.

Judge couldn’t believe this. Duncan was strong, fit, a good-looking guy, but he was also old enough to be her father and wasn’t that type of dude.

“Duncan Holloway?” he asked.

“One and the same,” she confirmed.

“You’re seeing Duncan?”

She shook her head. “He’s a friend of the family.”

Well, that made more sense, even if Duncan was one of the most down-to-earth people Judge knew, and this woman appeared to be…not.

“And you’re dropping his name because…?” he prompted.

“I’m dropping his name because I don’t think he’d be very happy one of his employees is wandering around his store, throwing shade.”

This was absolutely true. Duncan would not like that.

That said…

“I wasn’t wandering around throwing shade,” he asserted.

No, when he’d thrown his shade, he’d pinpointed it at her.

Another hitch of her perfect brow.

“But I’ll remind you,” Judge continued, “not five minutes ago, I tried to avoid this discussion and not three minutes ago, I apologized, genuinely, for saying something I shouldn’t. I then tried to end this discussion. It was you who wouldn’t let it go.”

“And are you in the habit of confronting and arguing with customers?”

“I think at this juncture, doll, you might want to ask yourself why you’re so curious about what I’m in the habit of doing. So curious about it, you’re detaining me with this conversation and won’t let me get on with my workday.”

Definitely, she’d been pissed.

Now she was furious.

“Are you inferring…?”

She was too angry to finish that.

He still answered it.

“Not sure I need to infer anything. I had somewhere to go, and I was intent to get there. Now,” he swept a hand to indicate the floor between them, “I’m standing here having a ludicrous conversation with you.”

“What’s your name?” she snapped.

“Judge,” he informed her easily.

She planted both hands on her hips, fingers wrapping around her more than likely three-hundred-dollar jeans.

Long, slender fingers with perfectly rounded nails tipped in a rich wine color which was probably what her mouth tasted like.

Shit.

He was enjoying this.

Which was why he really needed to walk away.

He didn’t walk away.

“Well, isn’t your name apropos?” she asked acidly.

Judge did a one-shoulder shrug.

Her eyes caught fire.

And her voice was rising. “Are you serious?”

“Calm down,” he said softly.

“You’re telling me to calm down when you just accused me of being some frivolous female who’d rather walk on diamonds than fund school lunches?”

Her voice definitely had risen now, as had her drama, the latter significantly.

And okay…

She was something.

He needed to walk away.

He still did not walk away.

Instead, he smirked.

He then watched, and enjoyed the show, as she took in his smirk, and behind those beautiful eyes, her head exploded.

“That isn’t even close to what I said,” he pointed out.

“Are you now correcting me?” she yelled.

And that was when Judge got concerned.

Because she was beautiful, even more when she was riled, but it was hitting him that, from the beginning, her reaction seemed extreme.

Was she just some privileged chick having a hissy fit?

Or was there something else going on?

Like, why was a family friend staying with Duncan?

Was his ex-wife up to her shit again?

“Seriously,” he said quietly. “Calm down.”

Bending at the waist, she leaned his way. “You must be old enough to know never to say that to an aggravated woman.” She leaned back. “Or a non-aggravated one for that matter.”

Why would he say that to a non-aggravated one?

He didn’t ask that question.

He got closer to her, realizing something else. They were gathering an audience.

He kept speaking quietly when he said, “You’re not aggravated, honey. You’re ticked. You okay?”

“Don’t ask me if I’m okay after you behaved like an absolute ass to me.”

“Yes, I did, and I apologized, and you’re drawing this out for some reason and I just want to know if you’re all right.”

“I was fine until you messed up my day.”

“Well, you’re not fine now.”

“And you made me that way.”

“By saying ‘nice booties’?”

“It wasn’t the words, it was the tone, and you know it.”

“I do, and I apologized for it.”

“It shouldn’t have been said in the first place.”

“I know that, hence the apology.”

“I hope those two words were worth it, since it might mean your job,” she snapped.

He stood still and stared down at her.

She was tall, even in stocking feet, which was what she was in right now.

Though, if she was wearing her fancy booties, he’d still be taller than her.

But he wasn’t thinking of something he’d normally be thinking of as he noted her height standing that close to a woman like her.

How the drop would be the perfect distance for kissing her.

He was thinking she was going to tell Duncan about their ridiculous conversation and get him in shit.

He loved his job, lived for it.

So that couldn’t happen.

“I said two words,” he growled.

This time, she got closer to him.

A lot closer.

“You were being an asshole intent on making some point about how I live my life, and it is not okay.”

An asshole?

Saying two words?

“Listen, sweetheart, if you’ve got some issue with how you live your life, don’t work that out with me.”

“I have utterly no qualms with the way I live my life,” she returned.

“If that was the case, the two words I said wouldn’t have triggered you into an overblown reaction,” he retorted.

Her chin shot back into her neck. “Overblown?”

“We’re standing here still discussing your reaction to two words.”

“Just because you have one doesn’t mean you get to wander around being one to hapless females,” she shot back.

He one hundred percent caught her drift.

“Now you’ve called me an asshole and a dick over two words,” he rumbled.

“I didn’t call you a dick.”

He used what she’d said earlier against her. “You inferred it.”

With that, she tossed her hair.

The woman tossed her hair.

And her doing that only made him want to sink his fingers into that thick, glossy mane.

For fuck’s sake.

“I call them as I see them,” she sniped.

“Nice,” he bit off.

She got even closer, so close, he could smell her perfume.

Bright and flowery, but also spicy.

Like jasmine and pepper and orange.

Gorgeous.

Expensive.

Shit.

“You wouldn’t know nice if it walked up and rubbed itself all over you,” she declared.

“From that, I’m beginning to get why you intend to draw this conversation out until we reach a new millennium.”

Her eyelashes fluttered irately. “If you’re suggesting I want your attention, you are sadly mistaken.”

“Who’s in whose space, doll?”

“I’m not a doll,” she clipped.

But didn’t get out of his space.

“Just to point out the obvious, I’m not interested,” he lied.

And did not get out of her space.

“Like I would even,” she scoffed.

He’d put money down that she would.

She really would.

And she’d love every minute of it.

He’d see to that.

Which meant he had to end this.

“You tell Duncan what went down, don’t put your drama queen spin on it.”

She was now openly insulted.

“Drama queen?”

“I said nothing about diamonds or school lunches,” he pointed out.

“I can read between the lines.”

“I’m sure. You can also blur them or bold them if it suits your purposes to overexaggerate them.”

“How much more do you think you know about me just because of my fabulous booties?”

He dipped his face so close to hers, he could swear he could feel the tip of her nose.

And then he whispered the god’s honest truth.

“Everything.”

Her eyelashes fluttered again.

Not irate.

Not flirting.

She seemed rattled.

Smelling her.

Having her gorgeous eyes that close.

Her mouth that close.

Her that close.

He finally got smart, turned and got the fuck away from her.

And fast.

If Duncan heard about that incident, he’d be pissed as shit, Judge knew it.

Duncan also knew Judge, and whatever spin she put on, he wouldn’t believe it (not if she embellished it), even if what instigated that incident had been all on him.

As he walked away, Judge ignored their audience and went to Rix’s office. He then ignored Rix rolling his wheelchair into his own office and grinning up at Judge, visibly struggling to keep his mouth shut because, no doubt, he’d been part of that audience.

Judge ignored Rix too, and his grin, finished with his copies and skirted the shoe section when he returned to his desk on the top floor.

Even though what he was doing meant he was going to need the copier a lot that day, and his Volunteer Coordinator Alex was down in Phoenix leading a training session, so he couldn’t ask her to do it, he also made certain he didn’t leave his desk until she had to be long gone.

He did not spend the rest of the morning or the afternoon (and, fuck him, the evening) worrying about her talking to his boss.

Nope.

He did not.

And because he did not, he knew he was screwed.

Because whenever his mind went to that scene—and it did that a lot, too much—it focused on only one thing, and it wasn’t the thing he should be focusing on.

It was on the fact that he wished he’d asked her name. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:


1. At first glance, Belinda Oakley appears to be an almost villain in this novel. But addiction is an illness, and for Belinda, it not only went untreated, after Jameson felt the need to give up on her once she’d betrayed their marriage to that compulsion, no one in her life, including her parents, made much effort to press her to seek help.

Do you think Belinda would have eventually benefitted from some love and intervention? Do you feel she was lost to the machinations of powerful men and the recriminations of a disapproving father? Do you feel her father’s attitudes, and perhaps Jamie’s ambitions, may have had some effect on how quickly she became unanchored after high school? And do you think it’s a child’s responsibility, when they reach adulthood, to press a parent to recovery?

Or is there a point of no return for a person struggling with addiction who shows no willingness to seek help where those around them must break ties for their own emotional health? Or even, do you feel it is not anyone’s responsibility, but this is solely owned by the person who is struggling?

2. It is distinctly the author’s opinion that we all should be socially responsible, but in this book, she makes clear those of privilege should understand that and consciously work at leveling the playing field. What did you think about Chloe’s Fabulous Foot Forward program? Judge’s determination to make a career in mutual aid? Hale’s crusade to use the wealth and power his father left him for good? Was this believable? Are they doing enough? Is it your opinion they’re focusing on the right things? If not, what should they be focusing on or do you think this is their responsibility at all?

3. Sizeism and ageism are issues. It can be argued that ridiculing and discriminating on the basis of weight and age are still socially acceptable to many. In fact, a large number of people feel it is not objectionable in the slightest to openly share their derogation of people, especially women, who are considered overweight.

How did you feel when you read the description of the clientele Chloe caters to in Velvet and her opinions about why she does? When shopping, have you experienced some of the things that Chloe’s patron mentioned? Or have you never thought of this? No matter your age or size, would you welcome and patronize a store like Velvet?

4. Chloe and Judge are an example of opposites attract. But this is only surface. Were you surprised how they found so much common ground, even if, at first glance, they would not seem to suit?

5. AJ Oakley is the villain in this book, however, he is also an example of a character who was, and sometimes still is, admired and even revered as a traditional model of the esteemed masculine traits of being straight-speaking, aggressive, wealthy, philandering and unapologetic. What are your thoughts on that?

6. Did you think Chloe should so easily forgive Sasha?

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