Falling For Ruben (Falling Book 4) Read online

  Falling for Ruben

  Falling Series #4

  Tracy Lorraine

  Copyright © 2016 by Tracy Lorraine

  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.

  Proofread by Pinpoint Editing

  Formatted by Dandelion Cover Designs

  Cover design by Dandelion Cover Designs

  To the two most important people in my life: my amazing husband and our gorgeous baby girl. I love you both so much
  Contents

  Readers note

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  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

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  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Tracy Lorraine

  Readers note

  Although Falling for Ruben can be read as a standalone novel, I would advise reading the previous books in the Falling series first to fully understand the background to her story.

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  Prologue

  Emma

  I’ve been at this damn party for ten minutes now, and I really wish I hadn’t bothered. A night at home with my coursework would’ve been more fun. Why do I have to be such a push over where my twin sister is concerned? I felt like I stood my ground about not coming – well, that was until she started begging.

  “Come on, you deserve a night off. It’ll be fun. Come on, please, Emmie,” she pleaded until I caved.

  So here I am, sat like an invisible guest at this party, in the corner of the living room. I don’t even know the girl whose birthday it is that well.

  I look out at all our school friends dancing and laughing, and I can’t help but feel like I really don’t belong here. If I had a way of getting home, I’m pretty sure I would’ve left already.

  Mum’s comments from earlier are still echoing in my head. I’m used to hearing such things, but they still sting. I know they love us all equally, and that I’m just as important to them as Hannah and the other two, but I can’t help feeling like I’m the black sheep of the family.

  “Ah, angels, you look absolutely gorgeous,” Mum said as Hannah and Molly entered the kitchen before we left for the party. I followed behind them by a few seconds. “Oh, Emma, you look…lovely. When did my babies grow into young women?” she said with tears in her eyes.

  The worst bit about what she unknowingly said is that it’s true. My twin Hannah and her best friend Molly are gorgeous. Hannah has golden long locks that hang straight down her back. She is tall and has a figure I’d kill for. Molly is much shorter, but already has a perfect hourglass figure. The boys fall over themselves just to talk to both of them. Me though, as I said before…I’m invisible. I’m a whole head shorter than my supermodel looking twin, I have a pear-shaped body, and my thighs and arse are huge. That doesn’t mean my boobs are small, though, because they aren’t, and I hate them as well. My sister looks so elegant with her tiny frame and flat belly. Mine, on the other hand, sticks out. In some clothes, I swear I look pregnant. No one has said anything about it yet, but I’m just waiting for the slip up to happen.

  So tonight, we are all dolled up to attend this sixteenth birthday party for someone at school. Well, I say we are all dolled up… Hannah has on the most awesome pair of flares. They are skin-tight until they hit her knees, and she has paired them with a cute little crop top, showing off that previously mentioned stomach. Molly looks equally as good in a denim skirt that I would be more inclined to describe as a belt, and a long-sleeved crop top. I, however, do not dare wear stuff like that. I swear it would give people nightmares for weeks. I have on a pair of baggy jeans - well, they aren’t really baggy, but compared to my sister’s skin tight ones they are - and a long flowing top to cover my belly, hips and arse. My very average mousy brown hair, in contrast to theirs is, as usual, doing its own thing. It’s neither straight nor curly, and refuses to let me do either to it.

  I feel Hannah turn to look at me and I see sympathy in her dazzling blue eyes as they meet mine. They are the one of two things we have in common. The other is our mouths. We have the same smile and the same full lips. I’d say Hannah’s are kissable; I doubt anyone will get close enough to mine to find out.

  To put it simply, I feel like a frump compared to them. I love them both dearly, but I’m jealous as hell.

  As well as being stunning, Hannah is confident, funny, artistic, clever and the sweetest person you could ever meet. In contrast, my only positive attribute is that I’m intelligent and good with numbers, which is why I want to be an accountant.

  The front door to where the party is being held suddenly slams shut, and everyone turns to look. I can’t see anything because I’ve tucked myself into the corner, but I see all the girls suddenly go all doe-eyed. I understand why in a matter of seconds, when I see Callum round the corner. I feel my body temperature increase, and my face turn a bright shade of red at just being in the same room as him.

  Oh. My. God. Callum is…well…Callum is a god. He is by far the most popular boy in our school. He’s the captain of the football team, and he is fit. And I don’t just mean fit, I mean F.I.T! He is in all the top sets and gets the best grades. And in case you didn’t guess already, he belongs on the front of a magazine. I mean, the boy is stunning. Dark messy hair, dark eyes you could drown in, dimples - damn, he has it all. And all the girls want a piece of him. His only downside is that, apparently, he’s let quite a number have that piece. He’s already started turning into one of those man-whores I read about in my books. It should make him less attractive, but let me tell you - it doesn’t.

  I watch as him and his crew descend on the dance floor, and I really shouldn’t be surprised when I watch him pull Molly in front of him and start dancing with her.

  I continue watching them, but get distracted when Hannah walks up. “Come on, Emmie, at least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I am,” I say unconvincingly.

  She raises an eyebrow at me knowingly. “Come dance with me?”

  Now, I love dancing. Like, love it. But there is no way I am dancing for everyone to see. Nope, that is only for when I’m in my bedroom alone.

  One of our friends comes and drags Hannah off, leaving me once again alone. I glace up at Molly and Callum to see they have their tongues down each other’s throats, so I decide to venture to the kitchen for a drink.

  When I reappear a while later after chatting with a couple of friends, Molly and Callum are disappearing through the French doors. After a few minutes of watching everyone else, the curiosity gets the better of me and I follow them outside.

  It’s not hard to know where they are. I can hear them moaning and groaning on the other side of the bush. I can hear Callum telling
Molly how sexy she is and what he wants to do to her. It makes my stomach turn; it’s not what he’s saying or doing to her, it’s the fact that I’m pretty sure no one will ever say any of those things to me.

  I leave them in peace and wander back into the house to find somewhere to hide until it’s all over.

  * * *

  The minute I close our bedroom door, Hannah and Molly start gossiping and giggling like little girls. I guess that small bottle of vodka they had between them earlier is still coursing thought their systems.

  All I want to do is fall fast asleep and forget this night ever happened. Forget that the boy I fancy, but have absolutely zero chance of getting, made a bee line for Molly, and did God knows what to her in the garden.

  “Soooo…come on, spill it…where did you go with Callum?” I hear Hannah plead.

  I desperately don’t need to know the answer so I shove my pillow over my head and try to drown them out. It doesn’t work; I can still hear them mumbling and the word sex being mentioned more than once.

  Neither of them listen to my complaining about wanting to get some sleep so I can do some work in the morning, so I am forced to fall asleep listening to them gossiping about something I am never going to know anything about. No boy is ever going to look twice at me.

  Chapter One

  Emma

  “I cannot believe you own Rose Cottage. You’ve wanted to live in that place since you were like, four!” Molly exclaims when we sit at our table. “And what you have done to it is amazing, Em. No wonder you can’t wait to move in.”

  Two months ago, I collected the keys to my very first home, and I’ve had builders and decorators in ever since, totally refurbishing it. As Molly said, I have dreamed about the cottage for years, but I never thought I would ever actually own it. But after my twin, Hannah, died in a car accident last year, I started spending time in the village our grandparents used to live in to bring me happy memories, and I started to think about getting my own place. I walked past Rose Cottage every time I came here, and every time, the memories of us as children warmed my heart. I had no idea what had happened to the sweet old couple that lived in it, and I hadn’t seen them since my return, but to my surprise one morning, when I walked past, there was an estate agent putting up a For Sale sign. Butterflies immediately erupted in my stomach, and my hands got a little clammy at the thought of actually owning the cottage. I marched straight to the café that we’re sat in now, found the estate agent’s number, and demanded a viewing that day. I had no idea how much it was on the market for, but I had to have the chance to look around. It might have been the only opportunity I would get.

  Well, it turned out that the old couple both passed away in quick succession just before Christmas. They only had one child and she now lived in America with her husband and two children, so just wanted a quick sale of the house. When the estate agent handed me the paperwork for it later that afternoon, I could not believe my eyes at the price. When I questioned it, he confirmed that it was priced very competitively because they wanted a quick sale. The price wasn’t the only thing I fell in love with that day; not only was the outside a picturesque chocolate box English cottage, the inside, although very dated, was just as stunning with cosy rooms, low windows and open fires - everything I dreamed it would be. Something about it made me feel at home instantly, and that was something to be said after a year of feeling completely lost without my twin by my side.

  So along with demanding to see the place, I made another unexpected spur of the moment, completely out of character, decision that day. I put an offer in then and there. I was the first and only person to view Rose Cottage. My timing was perfect. And to think I was going to go into work that day not come here; if that would have happened, I probably would have missed my chance.

  After a quick trip to the bank to sort out the money I would need for a mortgage, as well as what I had as inheritance from my grandparents and what I had saved myself over the years, the ball started moving and it was only five weeks later that I got the keys.

  I don’t think I have ever felt more alive than I did that day. I felt like I was taking a step forward in my life after months of misery and despair. This house was my saving grace; it was going to help me find me again.

  As soon as the keys were in my hand, I got the builders organised and they started two weeks later. The entire inside of the cottage was ripped out and started from scratch. Now all that’s needed is for the flooring to be laid, and a few finishing touches to be done. Then, I’ll be moving into my new sanctuary, and I cannot wait. I’m quite happy living with Mum and Dad, but the thought of waking up in that house and looking out over the little garden and the fields beyond has me bouncing my knee with excitement.

  “Emma, did you hear a word I just said?” Molly says loudly, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Huh…sorry, no,” I say apologetically.

  I look up to see both Molly and Abbi with smiles on their faces. Today was the first time they’ve seen the cottage since it’s been done up. Molly had decided I’d been working too hard, so organised a day out. We went baby shopping this morning and Abbi and I watched as she bought anything that was remaining in the shop that her and her fiancé, Ryan, Abbi’s big brother, didn’t already own. Sprout has only six weeks until his - I say his, but we don’t know the sex - due date, and the soon to be parents are desperate for everything to be perfect and ready for his arrival. After seeing my house, Molly looked like she was seriously flagging in the heat, so I brought them to the coffee shop I have spent many hours in over the last few months.

  “I was saying that I finished your manuscript last night, and I love it. Hannah would be so proud of you,” she adds, making my eyes water and causing me to swallow down a huge lump in my throat. She pushes a pile of paper across the table that I didn’t see before. “I’ve highlighted a few edits; nothing much, though. We need to get this published, Emma. The world needs to read it.”

  So, yeah, I’ve written a book! As I said, I came to this village after Hannah died to try to remember her, but when I realised there were only so many memories, I decided to write her a future. I’d always been an avid reader, and over the years I’ve attended many creative writing classes and written a few things just for myself. But as this story progressed, something inside me said it was good enough. That is really unusual for me, because usually I do not have any confidence in anything I do unless it includes numbers. It didn’t take me long to write the story, but it has taken me months of editing to feel happy giving it to Molly to read through. I felt sick to my stomach when I handed it over two days ago, but she has put my mind at rest by constantly texting me whilst she has been reading it, telling me how much she’s enjoying it and wanting to know what’s going to happen.

  “You’re not just saying that to be nice; you really think it’s good enough?” Okay, so maybe I’m not totally confident in my new adventure.

  “Yes, Emma, how many times do I need to say it? It is as good as my favourite books. Your characters have real depth. They are funny and sexy, and the twists in the storyline keep you gripped right to the end. There is no way this won’t do well. We just need to make sure we market it right. I need to discuss ideas for the cover with you and…”

  “Sorry for the wait, guys, I’m run off my feet,” says the waitress as she places a tray down on the table. I think she must own the place, because in all the hours I’ve spent here writing, there have only been a couple of times that she wasn’t here.

  “No problem, thank you,” Abbi says as she helps grab the mugs and plates off the tray. As soon as the millionaire’s shortbread hits the table, Molly makes a grab for it, making us all laugh.

  “What? Sprout wants it,” she says with a shrug.

  “I brought you extra to apologise for the wait,” the waitress says as she also puts a plate in front of Abbi and me.

  “She seems nice,” Molly says when the waitress has walked off and she has swallowed her mouthful.

>   “Yeah,” I agree. “I think she might own the place. She’s always here.”

  “You mean you’ve never spoken to her? You’ve practically lived in this place for months. You really should put yourself out there to make some new friends, Em.”

  “I’ve got plenty of friends,” I mumble, before having a sip of my coffee and hoping Molly changes the subject.

  Thankfully she does, and goes back to discussing my new home before making us both put our hands on her belly to feel Sprout kicking.

  “I think it’s time Sprout and I headed home for a nap, ladies,” Molly eventually announces, yawning.

  “I want to be home before Jax, so that’s perfect,” Abbi adds with a naughty glint in her eye.

  Abbi and Jax got married just over a month ago. I have to say it was the nicest wedding I have ever been to. It was small and intimate, with only twenty guests. They got married in the registry office, then we all went to an Italian restaurant that they had booked out for a meal. It was understated, relaxed and perfect. I have never seen two people more in love than them that day. It almost made me jealous - almost. I am perfectly happy as I am, no matter how much others nag me about finding a man. I know what I want from life and I can achieve all of that single, thank you very much. From looking at the glint in her eye, I would definitely say that Abbi and Jax are still in that lovey dovey honeymoon stage. It’s almost sickening to see them together.