Show Me the Money: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Money Hungry Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Note from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Epilogue

  Bonus Stuff

  Continue the Series

  About the Author

  Other Books

  www.sloanewest.com

  SHOW ME THE MONEY

  Sloane West

  Copyright © 2017 Sloane West

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the reader. It is the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied, or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

  Cover Design by Sloane West

  EBook design by Sloane West

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Note from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Epilogue

  Bonus Stuff

  Continue the Series

  About the Author

  Other Books

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Hello, sweet reader! As I write this note, I’m finishing last-round edits of Show Me the Money with my cat curled on my lap because he’s frightened of the thunderstorm we’re having. But there is nothing frightening about the story you’re about to bite into. It’s designed to warm your cockles, and I’m so in love with what happens on these pages. I can’t wait to hear what you think of Jen and Ash! Show Me the Money is an enemies-to-lovers romance, which is one of my favorite kinds to write. To me, there is nothing more addictive. This tale is a twinge longer than Money Hungry, so it may take you two lunch breaks to devour it, but don’t worry—this juicy morsel won’t fatten your thighs, only your heart. It’ll be a second helping you won’t have to feel guilty about. Now, go on. Unwrap this miniature romance and dig in!

  After all, it only takes a few pages to fall in love.

  P.S. Did you think I’d forget about dessert? Each novelette comes with a free extended bonus epilogue on the side that is exclusively available to my newsletter subscribers. Not a subscriber yet? You can sign up here:

  Sloane West's Newsletter

  If you’re too hungry to wait, don’t fret! You’ll have another opportunity to sign up at the end of Show Me the Money. You’ll also find a link to a bonus Show Me the Money Q&A podcast with yours truly.

  Hugs and kisses,

  Sloane

  www.sloanewest.com

  www.facebook.com/SloaneWestAuthor

  He who loses money, loses much; He who loses a friend, loses much more; He who loses faith, loses all.

  — Eleanor Roosevelt

  1

  Jen Huntley sat on the edge of her neatly made bed and gazed out the window with both excitement and trepidation. Well, it wasn’t technically her bed. It was Healing Hearts Recovery Center’s bed. But it had been hers for the past ninety days. She’d slept in it, sweated in it, writhed in it, and moaned in it.

  And not in a good way.

  Detoxing from drug and alcohol addiction was like living and dying at the same time. It was all about hating. Hating yourself for being too weak to resist temptation. Hating the substances for having so much control over you. Hating the world because you continually failed it. And, of course, the vomiting, dry heaving, and uncontrollable shaking was the cherry on top.

  So, yeah, perhaps it was her bed, after all. Part of her would always remain in it. It was a part of her she hoped to leave behind for good.

  Sighing, she stood and hefted her duffel’s strap onto her shoulder. It had been a long, terrible, beautiful, exhausting journey, but it was time to go.

  The rest of her life waited for her.

  And, like every other woman who’d walked out of Healing Hearts at the end of their stay, she prayed it would be the last time.

  She took one final look at the vintage-chic furnishings. Healing Hearts wasn’t the biggest in Columbus, but it was one of the nicest. And she’d been in enough to know the difference. Whereas others had a more clinical, hospital-like feel, Healing Hearts felt like a home. From its meticulously restored crown moldings to its cozy, eclectic décor, it made you want to curl up in front of the fireplace with a hand-knitted throw and a good, long book. After you snorted a line of coke, but still . . .

  Chiding herself, she left the room and didn’t look back.

  She’d already said goodbye to the rest of the women. Her sisters in arms. There had been hugs, tears, and laughs, and they’d promised to stay in touch. Maybe get together for a coffee sometime. Something they all knew would never happen. Oh, they had the best intentions. Herself included. But leaving the protective bubble of the facility was scary, and if you wanted to stay clean, you avoided anything and everything that provided temptation. And, while she’d very much love to see her newfound friends again someday, they would only remind her of things she was desperately trying to forget. It was why the goodbyes were so bittersweet. With any luck, she’d never see any of the women again.

  And it would be a good thing.

  Brittany looked up as Jen approached the receptionist’s desk, and even her smile was a teary one. “Time to go?”

  Jen dropped her duffel on the floor and leaned an elbow on the desk, grinning at her. “Yep. You’re finally getting rid of me.”

  Brittany laughed and shook her head. “You’re a real piece of work, Huntley.”

  “What can I say?” Jen grabbed a handful of mints from the crystal bowl on Brittany’s desk. “It’s a gift and a curse.”

  Brittany’s smile turned sad. “I’m going to miss you.”

  Emotion tightened Jen’s throat. Healing Hearts wasn’t the best just because of the stellar accommodations. The staff were the kindest, most patient folks she’d ever met. Even her hard-nosed counselor, Janet, loved her job, and it made all the difference. She genuinely cared about the women she guided. Janet’s no-holds-barred real talk had been hard for Jen to hear, but she’d come away stronger because of it. Because of the whole experience. From the kumbaya group meetings to the yoga sessions with Ladybird Sweetwater—something Jen had originally scoffed at but eventually grew to love—she felt as if, this time, she might have a chance. And that meant the world to her.

  Jen popped a mint into her mouth. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  Laughing, Brittany slid a stack of papers across the desk, slapping a pen on top. “Start signing.”

  “Want a kidney, too?” Jen asked dryly, grabbing the pen and starting on the release forms.

  “Just your John Hancock and your firstborn will do,” Brittany said, picking up the phone and dialing.

  Jen’s hand froze mid-signature. Brittany had no way of knowing the soul-squeezing pain her words would cause, but damn, they hurt. Even after all these years, thinking of her firstborn—or unborn as it turned out—made Jen weak in the knees. Her first instinct was to find a bar and get a drink, but the weight of the newly earned ninety-days-clean sobriety coin in her pocket reminded her that her future was worth more than a temporary balm. “You got it,” she said instead and continued signing.

  Brittany winked at her and then spoke into the phone. “Hey, Denise. Can I get a checkout check on Huntley’s room, please? Thanks.” She hung up and watched Jen scribble on the forms. “So, have you met your sponsor yet?”

  Jen flipped a page and scanned until she found the signat
ure line. “Nope. I just hope she’s less drill-sergeanty than Janet.”

  Brittany laughed but said, “No, you don’t.”

  Sighing, Jen scrawled her name for the final time and slid the stack back to Brittany. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Jen’s discharge paperwork had named her sponsor as Ashley Danvers, and going by Janet’s high opinion of the woman, Jen had already decided that Ashley was a bitch. If anyone can keep you in line, Huntley, it’ll be Ashley, Janet had said. Whether that was a good thing remained to be seen. A bitch’s guidance might be just what Jen needed to stay on the straight and narrow. And she could joke all she wanted, but at the end of the day, she’d do whatever it took to get her life back. If that meant putting up with a whip-cracking biotch, then so be it.

  “Where will you be working?” Brittany asked while typing.

  “Wayne gave me a job at his clinic,” Jen said, beyond grateful for his offer. She didn’t know the first thing about working in a veterinarian’s clinic, but she was willing to learn. And the fact that Wayne, her best friend’s fiancé, trusted her enough to hire her meant a helluva lot. Amy’s and his support, in general, meant a helluva lot. In fact, Jen didn’t know where she’d be without them. Probably lying in a ditch somewhere, strung out and used up. Or worse.

  Brittany’s expression was one of pure infatuation, and she gushed, “Isn’t he just the sweetest?”

  Jen held back a smile. Brittany had been crushing on Wayne from the moment she saw him. And, while she was a cute, nice girl, Wayne only had eyes for Amy. Even when the two had been separated. Six years ago, Amy had happened upon Wayne helping Jen at her lowest, dirtiest point, and Amy had jumped to the worst possible conclusion. She had cut ties with both Jen and Wayne, and it had devastated everyone involved. But Wayne had never stopped pining for Amy. When he’d visit Jen at the center, they’d often talk about how much they both missed her. How much they wished she’d give them a second chance.

  And then, one day, she did.

  Jen still couldn’t believe that things were finally as they should be. She had her best friend back, and Wayne was reunited with the love of his life.

  Much to Brittany’s adorable disappointment.

  “Amy sure thinks so,” Jen told her. She knew Brittany wouldn’t dream of trying to steal Wayne away. It wasn’t in her nature. Still, it was Jen’s duty as Amy’s BFF to make sure. “Did I mention they’re getting married in October?”

  “Yeah,” Brittany said with a good-natured groan. “Why are the good ones always taken?”

  “Want my advice?” Jen asked. “Stick with a battery-operated boyfriend. They’ll never let you down.”

  Brittany’s face turned bright red, and she giggled, covering her mouth. “You’re so bad.”

  Jen winked at her. “And if it’s commitment you’re after, go with a corded.”

  Brittany shook her head and picked up the phone when it beeped. “Front desk,” she answered. After a moment of listening, she said, “Okay. Thanks, Denise.” Hanging up, Brittany stood, smiling at Jen. “Room check is clear.”

  “I thought about taking my razor knife to the wallpaper, but I decided against it.”

  Chuckling, Brittany came around the desk and linked elbows with her. “I have to walk you out.”

  Jen grabbed her duffel off the floor as they went. “I know. Been around the block a few times, Britt.”

  Brittany squeezed their joined arms. “Let’s make it the last, shall we?”

  Sliding her sunglasses off the top of her head and settling them over her eyes, Jen smiled as they stepped out into the July sunshine. “Lord willing and the creeks of coke don’t rise.”

  2

  Jen sat in her car, tapping her thumbs on the steering wheel and staring through the windshield at the coffee shop. It would be so easy to leave. In fact, it would be so easy to track down some drugs, get high, and fall back into the arms of her old lover, oblivion. So, so easy. And so, so tempting.

  But she wasn’t about easy anymore. She was about surviving, and surviving was hard and sweaty and bloody. It hurt. But it was a pain worth living for. Fighting for. She didn’t want to give up. She wanted to dig the demons out of her chest so she could finally breathe. And, while she wasn’t breathing deep just yet, she was wheezing, and that was something.

  Shoving her hand into her pocket, she pulled out her ninety-days-clean sobriety coin and held it in her fist. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and let out a breath, whispering the serenity prayer. She wasn’t a religious woman, but she had recited the prayer so many times during her stay at Healing Hearts that it had become a comfort just to say the words. As her mind calmed, she focused her thoughts on her higher power. Most folks who completed the program found their solace in God or some other deity. Jen found hers in the past. Her sole reason for staying clean was to become the mother her daughter would’ve looked up to. Would’ve been proud of. And Jen couldn’t do that if she was a junkie.

  She returned the coin to her pocket, took a deep breath, grabbed her keys, and got out. Adjusting her sunglasses, she glanced down at her outfit, wondering if she was underdressed. She wore her lucky T-shirt and a pair of cutoffs. The T-shirt had been her dad’s and was older than she was. It was so thin, it was practically see-through, and the faded Led Zeppelin emblem on the front was so battered now that it was barely legible. There was also a stain on the top right shoulder from where she’d spilled Tabasco sauce on it during a cookout in 1999. The beloved T-shirt was a lot like her—tired and comfortable. The thought renewed her confidence, and she raised her chin, giving her blonde hair a watch-out-boys shake. For all she knew, Ashley was the type of girl who wore ancient, stained T-shirts, too. And if she wasn’t? Well, Jen’s give-a-damn had given up the ghost years ago. She’d lost it around the time she’d lost herself, and it would take more than a disdainful look from a fellow addict to get her down.

  With her coin in her pocket and her jaw set, Jen headed for the coffee shop. There was every possibility that Ashley would be a down-to-earth chick she could relate to. An idea that intrigued Jen. As much as she loved her best friend, Amy just couldn’t relate. For which, Jen was grateful. Despite Amy’s own sister being an addict, she had always had her own head on straight. She’d had her fair share of ups and downs, of course, but she’d kept her nose clean, and she’d never followed Jen down the path of self-destruction. It was why Jen had always looked up to her. Wanted to be her. Even in Jen’s darkest days, she had seen Amy as a source of inspiration, and it gave her hope that she could someday be right, too. Even still, there would always be a disconnect between her and Amy when it came to addiction. Though Amy’s friendship meant the world to her, Jen couldn’t deny that it would be nice to talk to someone who knew. Who understood. Who’d been there. Someone who was just as much of a royal disappointment as she was.

  Inside Roust, the holy grail of air conditioning greeted her, along with the delicious smell of roasting coffee beans. Stark white walls, live-edge wood-slab tables, and exposed industrial piping gave it a modern yet welcoming feel. The day’s specials and newest blends were scrawled on a giant chalkboard behind the counter, and she eyed them as she approached.

  A young man in a snappy black apron waited with a harried expression. “What can I get you?”

  Jen considered the options and settled on the Golden Cream Bitter, which promised a blend of homemade caramel sauce, fresh cream, and Colombia Nariño coffee. She pointed to it. “That one, please. On ice. Small.”

  When he began ringing it up, she interrupted, “Make that a large.”

  He nodded and adjusted the order while she got out her wallet. She’d need more than a swallow of caffeine to get through this meeting.

  After paying and stepping aside to wait on the seven-dollar glorified coffee, she gazed around the space. Patron chatter and the whir, splash, and foam of baristas creating drinkable art met her ears. Renowned for the best brew on the block, it was no surprise that the place was hopping. On
a Saturday afternoon, girlfriends were meeting for iced coffees, and strolling couples were stopping in to grab a pick-me-up. She scanned the tables for Ashley without having any idea what the other woman looked like. The day Jen had left Healing Hearts, her mind had been on starting her new life, not getting a play-by-play of her sponsor’s mugshot. All she knew about her was that she had a no-nonsense approach to sponsoring.

  By the left wall of windows facing Main Street, Jen spotted a woman about her age sitting alone, her hands clasped around a coffee mug while she gazed out the window. She had long auburn hair and a sweet face, and a Nicholas Sparks book lay before her, a pink-tasseled bookmark sticking out of it. She didn’t look like a whip-cracker, but looks could be deceiving.

  The barista called Jen’s name and handed her the Golden Cream Bitter. She thanked him, then cleared her throat, walking over to the woman’s table. “Ashley?”

  The woman looked up with a semi-startled expression as if her daydream had been interrupted. “Sorry?”

  “Are you Ashley?” Jen asked.

  “I think you must be looking for someone else,” the woman said with a polite smile.

  “Oh,” Jen said, returning her smile. “Sorry.”

  When the woman returned her gaze to Main Street, Jen glanced around with a frown. Maybe Ashley was late. Every other woman in the building was either with a friend or a boyfriend. When they’d arranged the meeting, Ashley had indicated that she’d be alone. Jen retrieved her phone from her pocket and scrolled through their text.

  Roust Coffee on Main. Eleven o’clock. I’ll be by myself. Blue shirt.

  Who typed out o’clock when texting? Jen shook her head and glanced at the woman she’d first approached. The pretty redhead wore a lavender floral blouse. Gazing around the coffee shop, Jen didn’t see any woman wearing a blue shirt. The closest was a brunette wearing a blue-gray crop top, but she couldn’t be more than sixteen and was sitting with a group of other girls, all glued to their phones. When Jen’s gaze landed on a man in the back corner, her heart sank. And sank. And sank some more. He wasn’t facing her, but she could see that he was tall and broad-shouldered.