On One Condition Read online

  “K. Bromberg always delivers intelligently written, emotionally intense, sensual romance . . .”

  —USA Today

  “K. Bromberg makes you believe in the power of true love.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Audrey Carlan

  “A poignant and hauntingly beautiful story of survival, second chances, and the healing power of love. An absolute must-read.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting

  “An irresistibly hot romance that stays with you long after you finish the book.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Bromberg is a master at turning up the heat!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans

  “Supercharged heat and full of heart. Bromberg aces it from the first page to the last.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott

  Driven Series

  Driven

  Fueled

  Crashed

  Raced

  Aced

  Driven Novels

  Slow Burn

  Sweet Ache

  Hard Beat

  Down Shift

  The Player Duet

  The Player

  The Catch

  Everyday Heroes

  Cuffed

  Combust

  Cockpit

  Control (Novella)

  Wicked Ways

  Resist

  Reveal

  Standalone

  Faking It

  Then You Happened

  Flirting with 40

  UnRaveled (Novella)

  Sweet Cheeks

  Sweet Rivalry (Novella)

  The Play Hard Series

  Hard to Handle

  Hard to Hold

  Hard to Score

  Hard to Lose

  Hard to Love

  The S.I.N. Series

  Last Resort

  On One Condition

  Final Proposal

  Holiday Novellas

  The Package

  The Detour

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2022 K. Bromberg

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by JKB Publishing, LLC

  ISBN: 978-1-942832-44-7

  Cover design by Indie Sage, LLC

  Editing by Marion Making Manuscripts

  Formatting by Champagne Book Design

  Printed in the United States of America

  Be sure to sign up for my newsletter where you will receive up-to-date information on my latest releases, chances to win prizes, as well as a FREE book every month from bestselling authors, available only to my subscribers.

  Make sure to add [email protected] to your contacts before signing up to be sure the list comes right to your inbox.

  DID YOU KNOW . . .

  This book is available in both paperback and audiobook editions at all major online retailers! Links are on my website. If you’d like to order a signed paperback, my online store is open and can be accessed here.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG

  ALSO WRITTEN BY K. BROMBERG

  COPYRIGHT

  EPIGRAPH

  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

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  This love left a permanent mark

  This love is glowing in the dark

  These hands had to let it go free, and

  This love came back to me . . .

  —Taylor Swift

  Asher

  Fifteen Years Ago

  Ledger cuts the engine just outside the gate to the farm. Lights are still on in the house, which means Gran is probably peeking out the window to make sure I’m home by my curfew.

  I shift in my seat to look at him.

  He has both of his hands propped on the steering wheel as the ticking of the cooling engine filters in through the open windows. He glances at me and gives me a lopsided smile before emitting a nervous chuckle.

  It’s like everything changed between us over the past few hours and yet nothing really has.

  He’s still him.

  I’m still me.

  And yet . . . we’re connected now in a special way that I don’t think I expected to feel.

  “Are you okay?” he asks softly, his eyes searching my face.

  I nod, surprised at the sudden awkwardness after what we just did. “You?”

  “Yeah.” That crooked smile evens out as he laces his fingers with mine. “I promise I’ll be better at it next time.”

  “How exactly do you plan on practicing?” I ask. He whips his eyes to mine and then his face softens when he realizes I’m just teasing him. “Ledge?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It was perfect,” I whisper.

  His Adam’s apple bobs as he nods. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  I squeeze his hand and look toward the house just in time to see one of the curtains move.

  “I have to get inside.”

  “I know. I wish you didn’t have to, though.” He stares at me for a beat before climbing out of the truck and rounding the hood to open my door for me. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me wish we could just climb into his truck and keep driving.

  Away from this town.

  Away from its judgment.

  Away from its dismissal of me.

  Ledger must see it in my eyes because he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into him. His skin is warm from the summer night and smells like a mixture of sunscreen and sun.

  “We’ll only be apart for a few hours,” he murmurs against the crown of my head. “M y dad will be busy with Barbie or Bunny or whatever her name is, and your gran and pop will be asleep.”

  I nod, my bottom lip between my teeth, as I look up at him. “Meet back by the willow tree, right?”

  “Yeah. In our spot.”

  “At eleven thirty?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He leans down and presses his lips to mine. His kisses always make me feel. Warm. Wanted. Loved. It’s the best feeling in the world.

  And truth be told, of the handful of boys I’ve kissed, Ledger is definitely the best at it.

  The creaking of the screen door sounds seconds before I hear, “Asher, honey?”

  “Coming, Gran,” I call out with a roll of my eyes as I take a few steps toward the house, Ledger’s and my linked hands outstretched between us for as long as possible until they break. I turn and face him. “Promise you’ll be there? At the tree?”

  “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  He holds his hands out to his sides. “That you’ll love me forever,” he whisper-yells before flashing me a grin that could light up the darkened sky.

  Laughing, and feeling like nothing in the world could ever ruin this feeling, I jog back to where he’s standing and press a kiss to his lips. “I promise.”

  I turn and take off running through the fields toward the house, emitting a whoop as I go. When I hit the steps of the veranda, breathless but still giddy, I turn back to look at him one last time. He’s standing in a strip of moonlight. His hands are shoved in his pockets, his back is against the bed of his truck, and he’s looking straight at me with that smile still on his lips.

  I blow a kiss in his direction and know that I’ll always think of him like this. My moonlight boy who said he’d love me forever.

  Ledger

  Dear Sharpe International Network,

  We, the members of Cedar Falls City Council, are writing to object to certain issues pertaining to your recent purchase and current renovations of The Retreat. While we value free enterprise, we also value the citizens of our town and their livelihoods. In your quest to resort-ize, commercialize, and bastardize our town, many small businesses that have been staples in our community for generations now worry about being wiped out by your big-business mentality.

  In the original application for your conditional-use permit submitted to our City Council on February 13th, Sharpe International Network proposed that your resort would create new jobs and help stimulate our economy. As of the date of this letter, you have yet to keep your promises. All contracts issued by S.I.N. thus far have been awarded to firms from Billings and beyond. Not from Cedar Falls proper.

  While we understand you are a business that needs to remain profitable, we are a town that needs to protect its citizens and their way of life. The City Council has decided that it will only grant a final certificate of occupancy after the following condition has been met. A founding board member from your firm must stay in Cedar Falls for two full months to oversee the project. We feel that with boots on the ground, you will see the importance of following through with your promises and ensure that the city council of Cedar Falls can communicate promptly with said founding member as needs arise.

  Until that condition is met, neither a final inspection nor a certificate of occupancy will be granted.

  Until then,

  Cedar Falls City Council

  “They’re kidding, right?” I laugh the words out as I glance from the email on my laptop and at my brothers. “Bastardize their town? Such bullshit. When The Retreat is done, it will bring more tourism to Cedar Falls. More business. More everything to boost their economy.”

  I knew buying the property, in this specific location, was a bad decision.

  But the past is the past, right? What happened years ago are things my brothers don’t even know about. And I plan to keep it that way.

  “Apparently they think differently,” Ford says from his seat across the conference table. His feet are on the table, his hands clasped behind his head, and his eyes narrowed as he rereads the same email on his laptop. “And why aren’t we contracting locally?”

  “Because the local companies aren’t big enough to handle it? Not of the caliber we need?” I take a guess. “Ask Hillary,” I say of our on-site project manager. “She’ll have the answers.”

  “We can ask her all we want,” Ford says, “but it’s not going to fix the problem.”

  “Or stop them from holding our permits hostage,” Callahan adds.

  I look at Ford and then at our brother, Callahan. He’s standing at the wall of windows that line our conference room, staring at me with the same expression Ford has.

  There are three of us, identical in appearance, and yet so very different in every other aspect.

  “Why did we agree to purchase this place again?” I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. Headaches upon headaches upon headaches. “I thought new projects were supposed to be thrilling and exciting.”

  “Nothing is thrilling and exciting when you’re as uptight as you are, Ledge,” Callahan says and smiles as only a little brother can.

  I flip the fucker off.

  “Dad. Dad is the reason,” Ford says to bring back our focus, knowing damn well how easy it is for Callahan and me to get distracted by our squabbling. “We were trying to do something in his honor. Remember?”

  And he’s right. We bought the old hotel to upgrade it into a S.I.N. property in Dad’s honor. A place we could all take our families someday and give them the same experience we had as kids. Nature. A different perspective. Time to unplug for a while. Unplug? Jesus, the thought of going for more than an hour without my phone gives me the hives. Somewhere my brothers and I could be a family instead of work partners and remember what it was like to be a kid.

  But who knew the one town where we spent a few months each summer was going to make it so hard for us to do so?

  “Can somebody tell them that we’ll make good on our promises?” I ask. “Can’t that be enough? Two months in that Podunk town is enough to drive a grown man crazy.”

  “Yes. We forgot. You were the only one not thrilled with the idea,” Callahan says with a roll of his eyes. “Pretty-boy Ledger is too good for the country now.”

  “Not too good, but Jesus, couldn’t we have picked a more contemporary location? One with more places than Main Street as the big attraction?”

  “Montana is hot property right now,” Ford says with a shrug.

  “Yeah. Yeah.” I wave a hand his way, knowing he’s right. “But . . .” It’s not New York? It’s too far away from everything? My last time there was an experience I wish to forget?

  “Dude, you loved that place when we were teenagers,” Ford says.

  He’s right.

  I did.

  Right up until I didn’t.

  “Hell, it was the only place Dad let us be teenagers instead of his Sharpe protégées.” Callahan crosses his arms over his chest and clears his throat. The pang is there for all of us. Our father’s absence is still monumental.

  I smile at my early memories of Cedar Falls. The long days outdoors and the late nights necking in the woods. How our father, Maxton Sharpe, would release his tight reins on the three of us because it was a small town, and he thought trouble wouldn’t find us. It still did. The freedom we were given there was unparalleled to the rigors of prep schools and the pristine reputation necessary back home.

  The reputation that had us rushing out of there fifteen years ago and never looking back.

  Not that my brothers knew otherwise.

  “There was fishing and hiking and beers—”

  “Lots of beers,” Ford says, and I know we’re all thinking about how we bribed Dad’s staff to buy them for us.

  “And who could forget all those small-town country girls,” Callahan adds with a cocky smirk. “They were desperate for boys from anywhere but there, thinking we were way more sophisticated than we really were.”

  “Ah, the good old days,” I murmur.