The Troublemaker Read online

  The Troublemaker

  Lili Valente

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright The Troublemaker © 2018 by Lili Valente

  Cover Design by Bootstrap Designs. Photography by Perrywinkle Photography

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy sexy, hilarious romance novels with alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

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  Contents

  Also by Lili Valente

  About the Book

  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

  Tell Lili your favorite part

  Sneak Peek of The Heartbreaker

  Sneak Peek!

  About the Author

  Also by Lili Valente

  Also by Lili Valente

  Standalones

  The Baby Maker

  The Troublemaker

  * * *

  The Bad Motherpuckers Series (Standalones)

  Hot as Puck

  Sexy Motherpucker

  Puck-Aholic

  Puck me Baby

  * * *

  Sexy Flirty Dirty Romantic Comedies (Standalones)

  Magnificent Bastard

  Spectacular Rascal

  Incredible You

  Meant for You

  * * *

  The Master Me Series

  (Red HOT erotic Standalone novellas)

  Snowbound with the Billionaire

  Snowed in with the Boss

  Masquerade with the Master

  * * *

  Bought by the Billionaire Series

  (HOT novellas, must be read in order)

  Dark Domination

  Deep Domination

  Desperate Domination

  Divine Domination

  * * *

  Kidnapped by the Billionaire Series

  (HOT novellas, must be read in order)

  Filthy Wicked Love

  Crazy Beautiful Love

  One More Shameless Night

  * * *

  Under His Command Series

  (HOT novellas, must be read in order)

  Controlling her Pleasure

  Commanding her Trust

  Claiming her Heart

  * * *

  To the Bone Series

  (Sexy Romantic Suspense, must be read in order)

  A Love so Dangerous

  A Love so Deadly

  A Love so Deep

  * * *

  Run with Me Series

  (Emotional New Adult Romantic Suspense.

  Must be read in order.)

  Run with Me

  Fight for You

  * * *

  The Bad Boy’s Temptation Series

  (Must be read in order)

  The Bad Boy’s Temptation

  The Bad Boy’s Seduction

  The Bad Boy’s Redemption

  * * *

  The Lonesome Point Series

  (Sexy Cowboys written with Jessie Evans)

  Leather and Lace

  Saddles and Sin

  Diamonds and Dust

  12 Dates of Christmas

  Glitter and Grit

  Sunny with a Chance of True Love

  Chaps and Chance

  Ropes and Revenge

  8 Second Angel

  About the Book

  They say Rafe Hunter is trouble with a capital T.

  * * *

  I say—bring it on.

  * * *

  As long as Trouble comes in a package as delicious as Rafe’s, I’m ready to climb on his Harley and ride all night long—and I’m not just talking about his motorcycle.

  * * *

  I can hide out until the scandal with my evil ex blows over AND have a wild rebound at the same time. Besides, I’ve got no heart left to break. My ex made sure of that.

  * * *

  As long as Rafe and I keep our no-strings fling from our families, what can possibly go wrong?

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  This is so damned wrong.

  * * *

  I don’t do drama, and this thing with Carrie Haverford has Bad News written all over it. After one red-hot kiss, I know I should cut and run.

  * * *

  Instead I take her home, take her in her car, take her to the beach and make her scream louder than the crashing waves. And then I take her so far into my heart I don’t see how I’m ever going to let her go.

  * * *

  The say the bigger and badder they are, the harder they fall. But when I fall for a girl with third degree love burns, how can I convince her that fire is a good thing?

  * * *

  This sexy Standalone romance will make you laugh, melt, and fall madly in love.

  To Allison and G-haw,

  fine practitioners of the Art of Trouble.

  Chapter 1

  Rafe

  Weddings…

  No offense to those who enjoy this kind of shit, but I’d rather be dragged naked through the streets behind a speeding Harley.

  My brother’s wedding is better than most—at the edge of a vineyard at sunset, with lights strung in the oak trees above the reception, and a live band playing bluegrass and golden-age love songs. And Dylan and Emma are crazy about each other and can’t seem to stop having kids, so it makes sense for them to take the plunge, I guess, but the sappiness in the air is still making me queasy.

  Romancing the shit out of a woman or fucking her until you’re both too weak to stand is one thing. Getting teary-eyed over the wedding vows is another.

  As soon as the toasts and the first dance are over, I beat it to the parking lot, knowing I won’t be missed. The bride and groom are too busy making goo-goo eyes at each other, and everyone else is too drunk. The wedding started forty-five minutes late, and Emma’s tasting room staff was pouring hefty samples while we waited.

  I, however, only had one glass. I knew a quick getaway was in my future.

  But when I reach my bike, I find my baby—a vintage 1950 Harley Panhea
d I coaxed back to glory with my own two hands—hemmed in by two Smart cars.

  “What’s Smart about an overpriced novelty baby stroller?” I grumble under my breath.

  “Not to mention poor handling around corners, a less than stellar safety rating, and the fact that they look really, really stupid.” The husky voice comes from the shadows beneath a live oak. A second later, the most dangerous blonde at the party steps into the light streaming from the lamps on the porch, looking as drop-dead sexy as ever.

  With her shoulder-length blond hair dyed purple at the tips, thick eyeliner that accentuates her violet eyes, and a body made for the black leather bustier and long, gauzy skirt she’s wearing, Carrie Haverford checks all of my boxes.

  She’s also Emma’s sister and completely off-limits.

  I don’t have many rules when it comes to women, but I don’t fuck where I eat, and I’ll have to face my brother’s sister-in-law over too many holiday dinner tables to risk a one-night stand.

  Or however long we would last.

  Judging by the sway of her hips as she slinks over to sit on the hood of the red car in front of my bike, it wouldn’t be long. She looks like a man-eater, this one.

  Be still my raging hard-on…

  I love bad girls who know what they want. They’re even better than good girls desperate to prove how bad they can be with the right guy.

  “Looks like you’re stuck, bucko,” Carrie says with a sigh. “I feel for you. I’m staying in Emma’s guest cottage, so I’m also trapped in happily-ever-after-hell.”

  I laugh as I slide my hands into the pockets of my tux pants, the better to keep them to myself. “You hate weddings, too?”

  “Like carpet burns on my ass,” she says, filling my filthy mind with images of things I could do to her curvy body that would cause such a thing. “Marriage is just another sickness inflicted upon humanity by the development of agriculture. It’s about property, not love everlasting.” She flicks thick blond and purple locks off her forehead, revealing more of her doll-perfect face. “And people weren’t intended to be monogamous. Science proved that years ago.”

  I arch a brow, intrigued. “Really? How’s that?”

  “Lots of different studies, but the most compelling to me is the design of your gear shift.” Her gaze drops to the front of my pants before sliding slowly back up to meet my eyes.

  “Yeah?” I murmur, getting thicker in spite of myself.

  A hot body is reasonably easy to resist, but a sexy, shifty little mind like hers does me in every time.

  “It’s designed to suction out other men’s deposits before making its own special delivery,” she says, eyes dancing with mine, issuing a challenge I know I have to refuse. “We were meant to be wild things who don’t give a damn if happy ever after is going to last a few hours, let alone a lifetime. The unity of the tribe was our focus, not locking one person in and weighing them down with all the expectations we used to expect a whole village to provide.”

  She shrugs. “And, allegedly, back when we were tribal nomads, we were less violent, too. The sperm did the fighting, and a woman’s body chemistry controlled which got to make the baby, so there was no need for men to go to war over who controlled women and property. People could live in peace and spend their free time relaxing in waterfalls or digging grubs or whatever primitive people did for fun.”

  I grunt. “Sounds a lot more sane than the current arrangement.”

  Her eyes narrow as she nods. “Exactly. Why can’t everyone else see that they’re the crazy ones?” She crosses her arms with a sigh and a tragic shake of her head. “Why must they judge us, Valentine?”

  I smile. “Everyone calls me Rafe. I told you that last time we met, Carrie.”

  “I don’t care what everyone else does.” She stands, hips swaying temptingly beneath her skirt as she moves closer. “I would rather call you Valentine Huxley Raphael, if that’s all right.”

  I curse. “Who told you?”

  “Dylan, when he was drunk at the brewery grand opening.” She straightens the flower in my lapel, making me powerfully aware of how close she is and how incredible she smells. Like orange blossoms and spice. “Did you know your second name means ‘inhospitable place,’ Mr. Hunter?”

  “But my first name means strong and healthy.” I tip my head, bringing my mouth closer to hers. “And my third name means ‘God has healed,’ so I figure two out of three isn’t bad. But there’s a more pressing question on my mind right now, Trouble.”

  Her grin stretches wider, proving she likes it when people call her on her mischief. “Yes? What’s that, Valentine?”

  “Why have you been looking up the meaning of my many ridiculous names?”

  “Why? Because I want to do bad things to you in the dark, silly,” she says in a husky voice. She presses up onto tiptoe until our lips are barely an inch apart, and my pulse rushes faster. “What about you? Up for a top-secret night? You and me, nothing off-limits, and in the morning, we part ways and never say a word about it to each other or to anyone else ever again?”

  I should say no.

  I really, really should…

  But I’ve never been good at “no” or “should,” and she’s making a compelling argument.

  If we stick to Trouble’s terms, what could go wrong?

  So many things. Too many to name, starting with the extremely high probability of getting caught.

  As if summoned by my thoughts, a feminine voice calls Carrie’s name from the side of the house. Carrie’s eyes go wide, and she takes a quick step back, putting a “just friends” amount of distance between us seconds before Emma appears by the front porch.

  “Hey, there you are! And Rafe, too. Good!” She jogs across the drive, holding the hem of her wedding dress up out of the dirt. “Come on you two. We’re getting ready to throw the bouquet and garter. We need all the single ladies and gentlemen in the garden.”

  Carrie makes a grumbling sound at the back of her throat. “You don’t want me there, Em. It would be a waste of the bouquet if I caught it. You know I’m never getting married.”

  “Ditto,” I say, also having exactly zero interest in holy matrimony. I can count the successfully married couples I know on two fingers, while the married and miserable, bitterly separating, or devastated and divorced crowd numbers in the dozens. The odds for marriage aren’t good, and I’m not a gambling man. I take calculated risks, not wild leaps into nets full of holes.

  Emma props a fist on her hip. “I know, I know, but we only have a few single people here. We need all the warm bodies we can get. Just stand in the back and make a half-hearted effort for the pictures, okay? For me? And then you can run off to get beer and play pool or whatever it was you guys were plotting out here.”

  “We have no plots,” Carrie says, in a voice so innocent I almost believe her myself. “I was on my way back to the cottage to get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

  “And I was trying to head home, but my bike is penned in.” I nod over my shoulder, and Emma snorts.

  “Well, that’s fixed easily enough.” She reaches out to tug a lock of her sister’s hair. “Just get the worst parallel parker in the universe to move her Mini Monster.”

  I glance at Carrie, arching a brow.

  She lifts a bare shoulder and lets it fall, gaze shifting guiltily to the left.

  “Or I can move it for you if you’ve had too much wine,” Emma continues. “But I will only do so after you both play nice. So come with me my hopelessly un-romantics.” She backs toward the house, beckoning for us to follow. “I promise—last wedding favor of the day, and then you’re free.”

  “Be there in a second,” Carrie says. “Just let me pop into the house and put on some lipstick.”

  “Two minutes,” Emma warns.

  “Two minutes,” Carrie and I reply at the same time. Neither of us sounds overly excited, but apparently, lukewarm acquiescence is enough for Emma. She turns, starting down the path leading around to the garden, leav
ing Carrie and I alone.

  After a beat, I ask, “So do you really hate your car, or was that just to throw me off the scent?”

  “Both.” She sighs. “And my plan would have worked, too, if it wasn’t for those meddling kids.”

  I grin. “It was a solid plan.”

  “It was okay, for the spur of the moment.” She gives her tire a half-hearted kick. “I can move it now if you want. Or you can. The keys are in the driver’s seat.”

  “That’s all right. Now that I think about it, I’ll probably walk up the hill and sleep at my dad’s place.” I slide my hands into my pockets as I turn to face her. “No sense in driving home just to turn around and drive back again first thing tomorrow for the wedding breakfast.” I hesitate, forcing my eyes away from the enticing curves overflowing her top, willing myself to make the smart choice. “And no sense in sleeping anywhere else. Family can be friends, but anything more is a bad idea.”

  “It’s called incest,” Carrie says dryly. “But that’s only if you’re related by blood, not marriage.”

  “Still.” I take a step backward, away from her spicy citrus scent and tempting mouth, which I bet would taste every bit as delicious as it looks. “See you at the bouquet toss?”