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   Copyright 2018 by Selena Scott - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Table of Contents

  A Mate for Seth

  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

  Other books by Selena Scott

  A Mate for Seth

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sarah tossed down her suitcase and her camping roll and sleeping bag onto the dusty hardwood floor of the small attic bedroom. She knew that the attic room had most likely been used as a kid’s room or an office in the past. She also knew that there was a lovely master bedroom downstairs. But as of Wednesday last week, she officially owned this house and she could claim any room she wanted as hers. And she wanted the attic room. Even though, with its angled ceilings, she could only stand straight in the very middle of it.

  She dragged her suitcase to one side and set up the camping roll and sleeping bag underneath the small stained glass window on one end. The dust she disturbed made her sneeze, but her vision cleared in time to watch the dust motes floating through patches of light dyed ruby and sapphire by the stained glass. She lifted her hand and played with the colored light for a moment.

  Maybe I’ll get a tattoo, she mused as she watched the colored light play over her skin. A really visible one.

  She shook her head at herself as she headed back down the creaky attic stairs. No. She wasn’t going to do things that were solely meant to piss her father off. That wasn’t the point of moving here. The point of moving here was to forget about him, extract him from her life. If she did things just to aggravate him, it was only allowing him to remain present.

  This was a chance to start a new life.

  She made her way the rest of the way downstairs and crossed her toned arms as she surveyed the mess on the first floor of her house. This wasn’t just a new life, it was a new, extremely messy life. The front room of her tiny house was an absolute atrocity. It was piled with teetering mountains of boxes that were messily taped and lacking labels of any kind. Some of them she’d already opened and pawed through and some of them were dirty and smashed up from the move across country.

  Unpacking was going to be a real bitch.

  All the more reason to put it off until tomorrow, she figured. She could live out of a suitcase for a few days. She’d been doing it for most of her life, so in some ways she was more comfortable with that anyways.

  Her clunky, ugly, waterproof watch beeped on her wrist and she smiled at it. It was horrible to look at, but it was glow-in-the-dark, had a compass and stopwatch, and could tell her the barometric pressure. She couldn’t have loved it more. It was also programmed to remind her to eat. Which was another reason she loved this thing. If she didn’t have a third party to tell her to eat, sometimes her old bad habits and neuroses had a way of sneaking back into her routine and she was more than ready to kick that shit to the curb. Along with her father. Bad habits and fathers were not welcome on 3rd street in Boulder, Colorado.

  Well, she couldn’t speak for anybody else’s house. But definitely not in hers.

  She’d just gotten herself an obscenely large scoop of peanut butter from the jar in her kitchen when her doorbell rang.

  It was one of those bells that played a little song when it rang. She hadn’t even known she had a doorbell. But there it was, playing that ding-dong-DING-dong song that church bells played at noon.

  She brought her scoop of peanut butter with her and yanked her front door open. She wasn’t worried that it was her father, because he would never do something as polite as ring a doorbell. If it was him on her doorstep, he’d be attempting to bang the door off its hinges and shouting her name loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

  Her eyes swept over the caller. It definitely was not her father on her doorstep.

  The man that stood there was in his mid-twenties, had perfectly manicured blond hair, tan skin and green eyes. He was clean shaven and had brilliant white teeth that were currently grinning at her. Sarah’s eyes dropped from his rather stunning face all the way down to his perfectly laced boots. He wore a green flannel shirt underneath a denim jacket and jeans that were a different shade than the jacket. He looked like Brooklyn’s version of a lumberjack. Everything was perfectly cuffed and perfectly buttoned. Even the late afternoon sunlight shadowed his face in a way that suggested he’d curated it.

  The man’s smile faltered as he took in Sarah’s expression. She’d never been able to hide anything on her face and she was sure her skeptical judgment was showing through quite clearly.

  “Ah, hello,” he said in a surprisingly deep and scratchy voice. His voice was rock and roll but his look was Eddie Bauer catalogue. “I’m Seth Durant. Your neighbor.”

  He jogged one thumb over his shoulder to point at his house directly across the street. She poked her head out of her doorjamb, where she was currently leaning, and observed a house she’d barely even looked at before. She immediately noticed that it was as perfectly manicured as the man who stood in front of her right now.

  It was a charming little redbrick two-story with a navy blue front door and an expertly crafted front porch. Some flowering, late summer bushes exploded with deep purple flowers lining his porch, which gave the place a kind of cottage-ish feel. But the front yard was a maze of perfectly placed cactuses and succulents. It was pretty and colorful and put every single other dried, brownish lawn on the block to shame. Including hers.

  She brought her eyes back to the neighbor. Who was this guy? Her opinion of him was dropping lower and lower. If there was one thing Sarah had learned over the last few years of her life, it was to be highly suspicious of people who cared so much about appearance.

  Realizing that too much time had passed without her saying anything to him, she introduced herself. “Sarah Moyer.”

  Her mouth was still pretty full of peanut butter, though, so the words came out a little sticky. Her neighbor’s eyes fell to her mouth and a strange expression crossed his face. She held out one hand, realized that she still held the spoon, jammed the peanut butter spoon into her mouth and held her hand out to shake again.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said around the spoon, waiting for him to shake her hand.

  His light brows furrowed, but he shook her hand, his palm hot and rough under hers. He gave her hand a good, strong shake, which surprised her considering how perfectly pressed and permed this guy was.

  “Welcome to the neighborhood. You all moved in?” he asked.

  She nodded her head behind her to the front room. “Yeah. I dropped off the U-Haul this morning.”

  His eyes tracked into her house and widened when he saw the mess of boxes and bags in her front room. She could have sworn a vein in his temple started pulsing. “Wow. You’ve got your work cut out for you.” He cleared his throat and flashed her that blinding smile again. “You need any help?”

  She was certain that the look of skeptical judgment was back on her face. Pretty boy wanted to help her unpack? Yeah. No way. Nobo
dy just offered to help a stranger with a shitty job like that. He was definitely angling for something if he was offering. She was not about to let herself get hooked on that line.

  Not wanting to be entirely rude, she hid her facial expression by looking back at the pile of her things in the front room. When she turned back to face him, his eyes shot up to meet her gaze. But there was no hiding the fact that he’d just been looking at her legs.

  Sarah wore a plain, oversized T-shirt, workout shorts, and bunchy knee-high leg warmers, one blue and one green, because the early September day had ended up a little colder than she’d expected and she hadn’t wanted to go digging through her boxes to find sweatpants, or the matching leg warmers. Who cared? She didn’t have anyone to impress.

  But this Seth guy looked thoroughly confused by her outfit. She didn’t want to be rude but she also didn’t especially need this interaction to go on any longer either. She pulled the spoon out of her mouth.

  “Nope,” she said, answering his question about needing help.

  His eyebrows raised in surprise, maybe because she’d popped the ‘p’ in nope a little hard, or maybe because a guy that beautiful wasn’t used to hearing the word no.

  Frankly, Sarah didn’t care.

  “Oh. Okay. Well, yeah. Welcome to the neighborhood,” he said in that deep voice of his that reminded Sarah of driving slowly down a gravel road at night. His brow furrowed even further and he jammed his hands in his pockets. “I already said that.”

  “You must really mean it, then,” she said, adding a small smile to soften her snarky statement. She wasn’t trying to be an asshole, but she hadn’t moved out here to make friends. She’d moved out here to disappear for a little while. And the last thing she needed or wanted was attention from the neighborhood hottie. Which this guy definitely was. He wasn’t her taste in the least, but there was no denying that he was very pretty.

  “I do! Mean it, I mean.”

  She had to give it to him, his smile seemed very genuine. With his hands still in his pockets, he backed up a few steps to the edge of her porch, giving her space. Maybe he was a nice guy. Not that it mattered—she didn’t need any kind of guy in her life, nice or otherwise.

  “Look,” he continued. “It’s a great neighborhood. Lots of families. You’ve got Marcia Owens, two blocks down, she’s a massage therapist, she’ll cut you a deal since you live in the neighborhood. Three houses down on this side are Mort and Michelle, he’s a mechanic and loves helping people in the neighborhood.” He paused for a second. “Um, he’s also kind of a talker, so just make sure to build in an extra hour or two if you bring your car to his shop. Let’s see… who else… Ah! Lynn Sark one block east of here, she can get you lift tickets at the Eldora resort for a discount if you’re into skiing or boarding.” His eyes skated over Sarah’s legs and arms again and she was certain he was noting how toned she was. He seemed to lose his train of thought for a second but then he jumped back in to what he’d been saying before. “Don’t let Lynn’s manner fool you. She can seem like she’s a real—”

  “She’s my aunt,” Sarah cut in.

  His tan face went dead white. “But she’s a real nice lady. That’s how I was gonna end that sentence. I swear. I like Lynn a lot. She’s my friend.”

  “Who apparently gives you a discount on lift tickets.” Sarah couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows. She also couldn’t help but chuckle when he took his hands out of his pockets and dragged them down his face, stretching his pretty features into a look of horror.

  “Seriously, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Sarah cracked. She smiled at him. “It’s okay. I know exactly what you mean about Aunt Lynn. She can seem like a real asshole but it’s all a cover for how gooey she is at heart.”

  “Exactly,” he breathed, seeming to go soft with relief that she understood. “Well. Now that I’ve completely put my foot in my mouth, interrupted your day, and insulted your family, I guess it’s time for me to go.”

  “Okay,” Sarah said, stepping back into her house and starting to close her door. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “Sarah,” he called, and for some reason she was vaguely surprised that he’d used her first name. He looked like the kind of guy who forgot people’s names the first second he heard them. “If you change your mind about needing help unpacking, just knock on my door. The offer’s on the table.”

  “Okay,” she repeated, giving him a small wave and closing the door all the way. She supposed having a nice neighbor was better than having a jerk neighbor. But maybe she should have moved someplace further out in the hills where should wouldn’t have had to deal with any neighbors at all.

  She shrugged. What’s done is done. And for now? More peanut butter.

  ***

  Seth shook his head at himself as he jogged back across the street. Well, he’d really botched the hell out of that one. He didn’t usually put his foot in his mouth like that. To be fair, there would have been no way for him to guess that Sarah and Lynn were related. They had different last names and they looked nothing alike. Lynn was a tiny thing, barely over five feet with jet black hair. Sarah was probably about 5’9” and athletic. Lynn was pale where Sarah was more golden. And Sarah’s hair was a wavy, honey brown that was blonde at the tips.

  Seth unlocked his truck and slammed his way in, checking to make sure that the casserole he’d stowed in the front seat was secure enough for the drive across town to his mother’s house.

  There’d been no way for him to know that she and Lynn were related, but he knew better than most that last names and physical appearance didn’t mean shit when it came to who you called family.

  He and his twin brother Raphael had been adopted at the age of two. Even though it was more than twenty-five years ago, and he’d been just a toddler, he’d never forget the feeling of going from him and Raph against the world to suddenly having a mother and an older brother all at once. Elizabeth and Jackson were already a bonded unit when Seth and Raph had shown up. But the four of them had just all sort of instantly blended together.

  That’s not to say that it hadn’t been rocky. Having one kid was very different from having three kids and Elizabeth had definitely had to adjust. It had been a big adjustment for Jackson as well, though Seth hadn’t known about that for many years. Jackson was more the kind to bear discomfort in silence. He wasn’t exactly a complainer.

  Regardless, Seth was very aware that families came in all shapes and sizes. Maybe he should find a way to apologize to Sarah again, even though she hadn’t seemed very insulted by his slip of the tongue. But apologizing would be a good reason to go back to her house. And Seth really, really wanted to go back to her house.

  He steered his truck down the long, gravel driveway of his mother’s house, secluded back in the hills west of Boulder. His brothers were already there, which was unusual. Seth was always exactly on time, but Raphael was typically extremely late, cutting the full moon so close that Jackson was always close to a pissed-off heart attack by the time their truant brother finally arrived.

  Seth grabbed the casserole and jogged up the stairs of the home he’d grown up in. He loved it here. The porch stairs creaked in that familiar way and the white sage that grew naturally in his mother’s side yard perfumed the dry air. Wind chimes chattered on the wind as Seth kicked the dirt off his boots and entered the house without knocking.

  “Seth?” his mother called from the kitchen. “Is that you, baby?”

  “Hey, Ma!” he called back. “I’m not late, am I?”

  He walked down the hallway lined with pictures of him and his brothers at every awkward age.

  “No. It’s just that the world started turning backwards and Raphael got here early.”

  Seth entered the kitchen just in time to see his twin shrug. “I was hungry,” Raph said, leaning over the salad bowl Elizabeth was chopping carrots into. She slapped his hand away.

  “Wait until it’s on the table. You’re not an animal.”

>   Raphael smirked and made eye contact with Seth. “Well…”

  “Oh, hush up,” Elizabeth laughed. “You know what I meant.”

  “Hi, Ma,” Seth said, coming across the kitchen to kiss her cheek and to toss the casserole into the oven she’d preheated for him.

  “Is that the broccoli casserole I love?” she asked.

  “Sure is.”

  “Kiss-ass,” Raphael accused his brother, side-arm hugging Seth, whom he hadn’t seen in a few days.

  “If you’re going to complain about your brother’s cooking skills, I’ll eat your portion,” Elizabeth said, checking one of the covered pots on the stove.

  “Nonono! No complaints here.” Raph put his hands in the air. He was a terrible cook himself, but it was a damn shame considering how much he loved to eat. And he had the bulk to prove it. He wasn’t fat in the least, but he was bulky, built like a tank where Seth was built like a sports car. Technically, they were identical twins, but their personalities and style choices easily distinguished them. Seth was neat and trim and fashionable. Muscular but lean.

  Raphael, on the other hand, wore whatever happened to be on the top of the clean clothes pile in his room and didn’t bother with many personal grooming habits. He had the five o’clock shadow and overgrown, shaggy blond hair to prove it. Raphael’s muscles were bulky and made him a few inches wider than Seth.

  “Where’s Jackson?” Seth asked.

  Raphael rolled his eyes. “Probably doing Mom’s taxes eight months early.”

  “Rude.” Elizabeth pointed a bossy finger at Raphael. “Just because Jackson likes to take care of his mother doesn’t mean you need to give him shit for it.”

  “I take care of you, too!” Raphael insisted, snatching a rogue carrot from the cutting board and grinning at his mother. “Remember when I flirted with that salesgirl at JC Penney’s so that she’d accept your expired coupon?”