Never Be Tamed Read online

  Never Be Tamed

  A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

  An Impossible Love Novel

  By Clare James

  Not Without You Copyright © April 2017, Clare James, Amazon version

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Also by Clare James

  About the Book

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Thanks for reading!

  MORE THAN THIS

  Also by Clare James:

  About the Author

  Also by Clare James

  The Impossible Love Series

  Before You Go (One-Night-Stand Goes Wrong)

  More Than This (Friends-to-Lovers Romance)

  Not Without You (A Big Misunderstanding)

  Talk to Me (Standalone Bait and Switch, Hockey Romance)

  Two-Hour Truce (Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers, Second-Chance Romance)

  Never Be Tamed (Standalone Forbidden, Enemies-to-Lovers Romance)

  The Fun and Games Series

  The Rules

  The List

  The Game

  The Deal

  The Guru (Fun and Games Spin-off, Summer 2017)

  The Elite Series

  Caught

  Played

  Exposed (July 2017)

  About the Book

  Falling for your sister’s nemesis?

  Only a low-life dog would do something like that, right? And that ain’t me, not anymore. I’m trying to be a stand-up guy for once in my freaking life—I’m finally making smart decisions, helping my little sister, and getting my shit together.

  For once, things are finally going my way…until Jenna shows up.

  As soon as I meet her, I know she’s the enemy. I’ve heard enough to understand that she’s off limits. Banned. Forbidden. Not for me!

  She’s the bad girl I have to stay away from if I want to keep my family intact. So I try. Trust me, I REALLY try. But it’s not as easy as you’d think, and surprisingly, I discover that she’s not as bad as everyone says.

  Of course, she’s difficult, selfish, and a royal pain in the ass, but she’s also gorgeous, smart, kind, and…well, let’s just say I am that low-life dog. Traitor. Turncoat. And the world’s shittiest brother.

  Woof. Woof.

  The Impossible Love Series includes standalone novels about different couples, and can be read on their own or as part of a series:

  Before You Go - [Noah and Tabby]

  More Than This - [Foster and Jules]

  Not Without You - [Noah and Tabby w/special appearance by Finn Daley]

  Talk to Me - [Finn and Casey]

  Two-Hour Truce - [Tristan and Aria]

  Never Be Tamed - [Michael and Jenna]

  “Everything I know, I learned from dogs.”

  -Nora Roberts, The Search

  Prologue

  Jenna

  The Ten Top Reasons Why Dogs are Better than Men

  1. Dogs don’t judge you, even when you do something really, really stupid.

  2. Dogs never come home drunk or cranky, but they don’t care if you do.

  3. Dogs actually feel guilty when they’ve been bad.

  4. Dogs don’t care how you look, or what you wear, or how much you weigh.

  5. Dogs are always excited to see you, and they miss you when you’re gone.

  6. Dogs love to cuddle, and won’t make you sleep in the wet spot.

  7. Dogs always let you control the remote.

  8. Dogs don't brag about the women they’ve slept with.

  9. Dogs are loyal, good listeners who love unconditionally.

  10. Dogs can be trained and, more importantly, tamed!

  I fixated on the Top Ten list that my friend Tristian had sent me as a joke. He was always sending me Top Ten lists. This one in particular was something he’d thought I’d really appreciate. What can I say? The guy got me.

  I printed and laminated it and used it as my favorite bookmark. Little did Tris know how perfect it was, or how it’d become a sort of mantra or creed for me. One that, I might add, I was failing at miserably these days.

  Since I’d royally screwed up my life freshman year, I’d been clear about the dog-to-guy hierarchy in my life. Dogs before dudes, and all that. I mean, guys were great at one thing, and one thing only…helping me control my hormones. But for the important things—like companionship, entertainment, and love—my heart belonged to the hounds.

  Or it did.

  Oscar, my beloved pet, looked up at me from the floor while someone else snoozed away in his rightful spot on my bed. I’d swear poor Oscar would flip me off if he had a middle finger. He released a low groan and turned away. I couldn’t blame him.

  But honestly, Michael was one of the good guys. I was sure of it. Mostly.

  Okay, I was hoping (praying!) he was, because I kinda liked having another human in bed with me, no offense to my good buddy.

  Michael sighed in his sleep, his warm breath washing over my sensitive skin. He was a work of art, truly. Thick dark hair that stuck up in all directions in the morning, especially when he’d ravaged me the night before, olive skin that covered ripple upon ripple of lean muscle, and a face that belonged gracing the covers of magazines. He was bossy and protective as hell, but swoony and sweet at the same time. Yes, Michael was a supreme catch—he was all man, and he was all mine. At least for now.

  Later today, however, would be the moment of truth—when he’d show me what he was really made of. It was funny (and by funny, I mean sad and pathetic) that even after all we’d shared together, I had no idea what he was going to do. Would he bare his teeth and claim me as his, or tuck his tail between his legs and retreat?

  My stomach knotted inside, because in a matter of hours, I was about to find out.

  Chapter One

  Jenna

  One Month Earlier

  Well, that was creepy. Tristan’s cute little text about why dogs were better than men came at the exact moment that I was thinking about the exact same thing—the compassion of canines versus the douchey-ness of dudes.

  Last night’s date—and I use that term lightly—did nothing to encourage my faith in mankind, either. His name was Toby, or was it Taylor? I couldn’t remember. It was some name that started with a T.

  Yeah, I was not the romantic sort. No need for flowers and candy for this girl. Just give me a few laughs and an O and I’d be content for months. Still, I did require that my quarterly hook-up maintain a certain level of hygiene.
This degenerate, however, showed up to the bar wearing a pit-stained shirt, and had crumbs in his beard. Oh, and he forgot his wallet.

  This was the downside of being anti-relationship. See, I preferred to keep my sexual partners anonymous, and my personal life to myself. It was just safer that way. But the problem with mystery men was that you occasionally wound up with a troll who’d never been introduced to a shower.

  I ended the night after I slammed my beer and snuck out the backdoor. Alone. By nine p.m., I was at home and in bed all tense, anxious, and stressed out to the max —precisely why I needed a date in the first place. It’d been months since a two-legged male had been in my bed. That’s like a year and a half in dog years!

  Stupid, dirty Grizzly Adams.

  Thankfully, I got a little action in my dreams, so there was that.

  It was still dark outside when Tristan’s text came in, but that’d be changing next week when we set the clocks ahead for daylight saving time. I couldn’t wait. This spring would mark my last year of college and meant my decisions would actually belong to me now, instead of my parents. Plus, Top Dog, the animal shelter where I worked, would start picking up with adoptions and I’d be able to get the dogs out for long walks. Not to mention, menfolk would be out in droves (maybe even some with well-groomed facial hair and freshly laundered clothes), so things were definitely looking up.

  I stretched out in my bed, as much as I could without disturbing the pups. The three sweetest dogs surrounded my body, creating a fuzzy little barricade to protect me from the real world. Not that anyone would believe someone like me would need protection.

  I did.

  Oscar opened an eye, silently telling me it was too early to get up. I agreed. It was my only morning to sleep in, and I’d been awake since five a.m., tossing and turning. Well, as much as one could toss and turn while sharing a bed with three dogs.

  I patted the big guy’s head and propped up against the pillows. There was no use trying to get back to sleep. Plus, I could use some human contact, even if it was only over the phone.

  Thought you’d like this, Tristan wrote in his text.

  It was like he was watching me, and always knew when I needed a pick-me-up. I checked the camera lens on my phone, staring deep into the dark eye. Maybe he was spying on me. If anyone could hack into my iPhone camera, it was Tristan.

  Nailed it, I typed back.

  Computer whiz, entrepreneur, business genius, and my only friend, that was Tristan Green. We’d interned for the same think tank for the entire summer after freshman year. Him? Because he was brilliant and the company recruited top talent. Me? Because my dad knew a guy. That year, my parents were desperate to be rid of me during the school break.

  Tristan: Let me guess, ur in bed with a pack right now, covered in dog hair.

  Me: Hardly.

  I pulled a stray, wiry strand of fur out of my mouth. Hmm, toffee brown. That was Oscar’s—my pride and joy and the most gorgeous Airedale mix in the Midwest.

  Tristan: Tell me, Peterson. How many animals are in bed with you?

  Me: Only three.

  Lying to him was pointless. There was Oscar, who was my full-time dog, protector, and only alpha male in my life. Sigh. And Ruby and Molly, two young labs, who just needed a place until their foster parents came through. Top Dog was at mass capacity, so I had two choices: take them home or send them to another shelter—one that still enforced a euthanizing policy for unadoptable pets—like there was such thing. The way I saw it, the pups simply hadn’t found their forever homes yet. They just needed a little more time, a second chance.

  I totally got that.

  So did Tris. He knew my all my secrets, and I knew his. But what brought us both together was the fact that we were mostly alone in the world. Or, we were. Tris’ situation changed quite drastically once his high school sweetheart came back to his hometown on the Florida coast—exactly 1,501.18 miles away from Minneapolis. Sniffle.

  I was happy for him, really. If anyone deserved a forever home, it was him. His love story with Aria had the makings of a country song if I’d ever heard one. Thankfully, Tris wasn’t sappy about it. Even though he was all in love and practically a dad now, he was still the same guy I’d come to rely on to complain about any topic that was currently irritating me—usually love and life.

  I’d had my share of lowdown, dirty dogs over my college career—jerks, blowhards, drunks. Mostly, because I didn’t think I deserved better. Not after the crap I’d done in my life. But Tristan had convinced me that I could start over whenever I was ready. In the meantime, he listened to my rants, and arguments, and the occasional crying jag whenever I needed him. But most importantly, he rarely pushed. He didn’t badger me with niceties or positivity. He knew who I was, and he let me be.

  Me: Have you thought any more about my proposal?

  Tris: I’m in! Just need a little more time.

  “Yes,” I said silently, with a fist bump to my reflection on the wall mirror.

  It was the best news I’d heard since the adoption papers came through for Oscar. During our last talk, I tried to convince Tris to make a donation to Top Dog. Though it was desperation that drove me, I knew it’d be a good PR move on his part. His company recently purchased a line of cancer screening equipment for pets. Shortly after the acquisition, he established a foundation dedicated to pet health—something I suggested, thank you very much. And this was the next logical step. Tristan wasn’t a pet lover per se, but he had a heart of gold and was always looking for a worthy cause for his philanthropy efforts. He was the Bill Gates of the south, so I pushed my own agenda on him whenever it was appropriate.

  Tris: Think you can keep the place on the up and up until I push it through the foundation?

  Me: Of course.

  I cringed a little at his request. Ever since my boss, Gloria, took over the shelter a few years ago, we’ve done our best to repair its reputation after the previous owner was found guilty of mistreating the animals. Trouble was, we were hanging on by a thread—low on employees, volunteers, and money for supplies and repairs. But it was the only no-kill shelter in the area, so we just had to keep it open. That’s where Tristan’s foundation came in.

  We needed the funds ASAP because we had an ornery, and surprisingly powerful, businessman up our ass, watching our every move and trying to get us to slip up. The shelter was on a decent piece of real estate that Chris Sullivan had been trying to buy up for years, and he was willing to do almost anything to make that happen—which included reporting even the slightest infringements of the shelter.

  If Tris came through, it wouldn’t be long before we’d have the money we needed to properly run the place. We just had to keep our perfect record going for a little longer.

  Tris: Good. Hang in there and I’ll be in touch soon.

  I gave my friend a super gooey thank you—not something I did regularly, but his generosity warranted it—and said goodbye.

  Finally in good spirits, I was ready for a little me time.

  Saturday mornings were my favorite. They were the one slotted time where I wasn't booked to capacity. I stretched out my arms overhead in a luxurious reaching motion, letting my mind drift back my dream again. How sad, I now had to resort to little gifts from the Sandman to make up for my neglected sex life.

  I reminisced about the best part, when my dream guy pinned me down on my bed. But the fantasy was interrupted by Oscar’s cold, wet tongue. Ugh, that was a little disturbing.

  “I thought it was too early to get up, Mister,” I said. He wagged his tail, telling me he’d changed his mind.

  I’d been lucky that my landlord allowed me to have the dogs in the apartment. I was the only one with animals in the building. Though I’m not exactly proud of the way I got Oscar— who may or may not have been introduced to my landlord as a therapy dog—into the place. But sometimes you have to bend the truth a little for the greater good. And saving Oscar was one of the best things I’d ever done.

  He’s
the kindest companion I could ever ask for. Oscar never judged, put me down, or put any conditions on his love. So unlike some other people I knew. It’s really no joke that dogs are better than men. And I knew that no matter what I did, Oscar would always be there for me.

  The other pups pounced around on the bed and joined the leader of the pack. Now these other two, I wasn’t so sure about. We hadn’t fully bonded yet, maybe because they knew this was only a temporary home for them. Plus, I tried to set up boundaries. The girls went into my spare room at night, until they started crying or fussing. I made it a calming sanctuary in there with new dog beds and calming colors. They’d had a rough start to life and I thought they’d be more adoptable once they experienced a good home. Ruby and Molly weren’t the first to stay; my spare bedroom had become a transitionary home for troubled pets. A place where they could detox or rehab before they were ready to be adopted—a service that was scarce, but desperately needed. As soon as the time was right, I’d run my doggie detox idea past Gloria. Maybe we could offer the service as part of the shelter’s program. Not that my landlord would necessarily agree to this. He still had no any idea about the other two residents squatting in his building. But he wasn’t around very often, and I doubt he could tell the difference between one pet or three. That’s what I told myself anyway.

  The four of us padded into the kitchen and I ground my Costa Rican coffee beans while the dogs paced under my feet. The rich scent of the beans helped perk me up.

  “You guys know the rules,” I told them. “I take care of myself first and you second. After all, the pilot can’t fly the plane unless she has her own oxygen mask on.” That’s exactly how I felt about my morning coffee.

  As the pot gurgled to life, I put the kibble in the dog dishes, which would hopefully appease them for about ten minutes or so—long enough for me to get some caffeine in my system before I had to take them out to do their business.