No Love Allowed (Dodge Cove Trilogy #1)

Love many things,

for therein lies the true strength,

and whosoever loves much performs much,

and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well.

—
VINCENT VAN GOGH

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

No Holding Back

Swoonworthy Extras . . .

Plan Your Own Roaring Twenties Party

Caleb’s First-Date Playlist

A Coffee Date

No love allowed: Discussion Questions

The Way to Game the Walk of Shame

Taylor

About the Author

CALEB BARELY STIFLED
a grimace.

Across the table from him, Amber burst into tears. He hated how good he had gotten at predicting when the emotional shit would hit the fan. The chin quiver, the reddening of the nose, the
welling of the eyes—he had memorized all the signs. What grated most was that the skill came from years of experience. He could teach a Master’s class in Jerkology. In his defense, he
thought he had made things clear at the start of senior year. Amber had readily agreed to no-strings-attached fun.

The original plan was to break up with her a week before he left for Europe with his cousin Nathan. Unfortunately for him and his carefully crafted post-summer breakup speech, she had other
plans. Yesterday, at her graduation after-party, she invited him out on the dock behind her house and broke his number one rule under the moonlight. If he were less messed up, he would have been
happy to have someone like Amber in his life. Beautiful. Well-bred. A girl his father would approve of. Instead he kissed her on the cheek, made some excuse about running an errand, left the party,
and then sent her a text asking to meet him at the country club for lunch.

He pushed the starched white napkin on his side toward her. Ignoring it, she opened the small purse she had with her and pulled out a neatly folded square of tissue. She dabbed at the corners of
her eyes and sniffed. He suspected crocodile tears from the way her actions seemed so rehearsed. Each sniff and silent sob orchestrated to tug at his heart, or whatever was left inside his chest.
As far as he was concerned, the muscle had been buried along with his mother all those years ago.

Tapping the table with his index finger, he admitted to himself that asking her out to lunch to break up with her might not have been the best idea. He definitely shouldn’t have started
the speech right after ordering a blue cheese burger and truffle fries for himself and a Caesar salad with croutons, anchovies, and dressing on the side for her. But he’d had to stop this
before Amber’s
feelings
dug in deeper. In his mind, he was doing her a favor.

Heads swiveled their way from curious onlookers. Since it was the weekend, the dining room was packed. Another strike against him. Caleb shut his eyes to keep from rolling them when the women
began whispering. Before sundown, news would reach the farthest corners of Dodge Cove. He could see the headline in big, bold letters:
FAMOUS LAWYER
’
S
SON BREAKS UP WITH IMPORTANT CLIENT
’
S DAUGHTER
.

“Amber,” he said, his eyebrows coming together. She gasped as if he had lobbed a grenade at her. He sighed and schooled his features into a more charming mask. “Look, I’m
sorry.”

“But . . . but . . . you and me . . .” Her shoulders hitched up with every word she attempted to say. Hiccups prevented her from continuing. Thank God for small miracles. This
situation was painful enough without her having to justify why they were perfect for each other.

No longer interested in Amber’s hysterics, Caleb waved one of the waitstaff over. A girl about his age shuffled toward him. He paused.

Her eyes startled him—warm brown with specks of gold. Yet there was no light behind her remarkable irises. It was like she looked past him. Her brown hair fell in a messy braid over her
shoulder as if she hadn’t bothered running a comb through the strands before weaving them together. Her skin stood out despite the blandness of the country club’s uniform of tan slacks
and button-down in a color Nathan called sherbet—whatever the hell that was.

This time he didn’t bother hiding his grimace when an ear-piercing keen accompanied Amber’s hiccups. “Can you bring us two glasses of water?” He glanced at her name tag.
“Diana.”

Diana Alexander, or Didi as they called her, forced a smile on her face when the stretching of the muscles around her lips was the last thing she wanted to do. She nodded at
the trust-fund brat who had reduced the poor girl sitting across from him to a mess of tears, and then turned on her heel to do as she had been asked. She should probably care more, but she
couldn’t bring herself to do so. If she wanted to make it through this day, she had to keep it together.

At the bar, she took a deep breath that didn’t quite make it into her lungs. Exhaling anyway, she concentrated on her task. With practiced movements, she pulled a circular tray from the
stack and placed two glasses in the middle. Then she reached for the pitcher with cucumber and lemon slices floating with ice in the rich-people water and poured. Once the glasses were
three-quarters of the way full, she balanced the tray on her open palm and returned to the table.

In the background, a middle-aged man asked for extra parmesan cheese. She ignored him, reminding herself to chill.
Just attend to one table at a time.

She had woken up to a dead alarm clock because the power must have been cut in the middle of the night. This triggered the downhill slide. Her mom had probably run out of money before paying the
bill . . . again.

No power meant no hot water, so no shower. To make matters worse, she’d had to make do with yesterday’s uniform since she’d been too exhausted to run the wash. And no matter
how hard she looked, she couldn’t find her white tennis shoes, which forced her to wear boots that had seen better days.

Another patron calling her name surprised Didi out of her head. She tripped as she stepped on the shoelace she kept forgetting to tie, sending the tray lifting out of her hand. She managed to
catch the tray by taking a step forward and placing her free hand on the edge. Sadly the two glasses had already spilled their contents onto the blubbering girl with Trust-Fund Boy. The girl
screamed and pushed away from the table so fast the back of her chair caught Didi on the hip. This activated a sequence of events that killed her inside. The glasses fell and shattered. The girl
yelled for the manager, then spat obscenities no lady should ever know.

Humiliated and close to tears herself, Didi dropped to the ground and began gathering shards of glass and placing them on the tray. Blubbering Girl wouldn’t stop screaming hateful words,
adding to Didi’s fast-rising stress levels. Doing her best to close off as much of the noise as she could, she concentrated on picking up what was left of her dignity scattered among the
glass and lemon slices. She wasn’t going to cry. Damn it. She totally wasn’t.

When she reached for the largest piece, a hand beat her to it. She looked up into the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. They were so clear she could almost see her reflection in them. She
gasped when the tips of her fingers grazed the back of his hand.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said quickly, hating how shaky her voice had become. The corners of her eyes stung.

“You shouldn’t be doing it either,” he replied. “You could cut yourself.”

“But it’s my job,” she insisted, reaching for a clump of cucumbers.

“To cut yourself?”

She pinned him with a withering glare. She’d had just about enough. Her day had to stop getting worse. Or she would explode. Or spiral into a deep, dark pit of despair. Either was bound to
happen. She felt it like an itch under her skin.

The corners of his gorgeous eyes crinkled as he whispered, “To be honest, what just happened did me a huge favor.” He glanced up and said loud enough for the girl still looming over
them to hear, “It’s just a little water, Amber. Calm down.”

Didi would have laughed if she could have found it in herself to. He had just said the two worst words any guy could say to a clearly distressed female. Something about him being a jerk was
yelled. She looked over her shoulder and witnessed pink pumps striding away. She would have breathed a sigh of relief if the stocky form of her manager hadn’t been lumbering toward them.

“Mr. Parker, I’m so very sorry,” he said.

Trust-Fund Brat stood up. Didi followed him with her eyes, because how could she not? Paying attention, she could make out the best details about him. Besides those eyes, his dark tousled hair
was combed to one side. When he smiled at her manager and shook his hand, a hint of a dimple appeared. She was pretty sure the combination of navy sports jacket over a simple T-shirt, and khakis
with leather loafers cost more than what she made at the club in an entire year. Add sparkles dancing in the air around him and he would cut a dazzling figure. Hell, it was like he had stepped out
of a Ralph Lauren catalogue—all pressed and shiny.

“Don’t worry about it, Tony,” he said after pulling his hand away from the manager’s grip. “Put everything on my tab.”

It rubbed Didi the wrong way how he used his money to smooth things over. Sure, she couldn’t afford paying for the glasses and the food that had already been ordered, but she didn’t
need someone like
Mr. Parker
coming to her rescue. Oh, why oh why had he picked her section to sit at today?

Impulsively she pushed to her feet and said, “That won’t be necessary.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled again. “Really. I’m happy to pay. What’s two glasses and lunch? You can even keep the burger and salad.” He leaned in, giving her a good
whiff of his cologne—cool, clean, and crisp. Expensive. “You saved me. I owe you.”

Like water from a burst pipe, words spewed out. “You don’t owe me anything. I tripped because I was wearing the wrong shoes. I spilled the water on Ashley—”

“Amber,” he corrected.

“Whatever.” She huffed. “I’m done! My fault.” She yanked off her name tag, threw it at Trust-Fund Brat, and stomped off in the direction of the staff locker
room.

The country club sat on a hill overlooking the water. Boats of different sizes tugged against their moorings along the docks, waiting for their owners to take them out. The
afternoon sun gleamed, giving the water a shimmer like golden confetti. The sky looked way too clear for the kind of drama Caleb had already been through.

After making sure Amber had left by asking one of the valets out front, he made his way to the limited-edition Mustang his grandmother had given him for his sixteenth birthday, parked in its
slot facing the docks. Still in mint condition, it had been his grandfather’s car. Given to him by the great Carroll Shelby himself. He would miss the car when he took his gap year, but it
was a small price to pay for freedom.

He sat in the driver’s seat, not intending to leave. Amber’s shrill voice still rang in his ears. Tugging his phone out of his back pocket, he plugged it into the special jack on the
dashboard. Then he opened the glove compartment and grabbed a small plastic bag containing a joint and a lighter. He glanced around.

The parking lot looked empty, but considering his luck today, he didn’t want to risk adding an arrest for possession with intent to use to his worries.