Tag You're Mine Read online

  Tag

  You’re Mine

  Book 1

  By

  Catherine Charles

  Tag You’re Mine

  By Catherine Charles

  Tag You’re Mine

  Copyright 2020 by Catherine Charles

  Copyright 2020, Catherine Charles

  First Published February 2020

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America.

  ISBN: 9798609944016

  Dedication

  Thank-you to you, my first fans who believed in me and this story, the ones who gave me the confidence to put myself out there. I owe this entire series to you. I owe my creation to you. These characters owe their lives to you.

  So, from the bottom of my heart, thank-you.

  Table of Contents

  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

  Want More of These Characters?

  About the Author

  Book One

  Chapter One

  Hi. The name’s Presley Donovan. I grew up as an army brat; the term is anything but endearing, moving every eighteen months or so, never staying in one place longer than a couple of years. After my dad’s last assignment, I was supposed to be able to finish high school back in Texas; but then life happened, and once again, my dad was deployed to somewhere unknown.

  My mom decided she wanted to move back home to be closer to her family since dad was looking at an eighteen-month deployment. Soon I would be headed off to college, which is why I am now in the middle of nowhere Montana getting ready to start my senior year of high school.

  Making friends has always been an issue for me. I’m usually never in the same place for too long, and after countless failed friendships, I don’t see the point of getting close to people for a short time. The only person I was ever able to develop a genuine friendship with left without saying goodbye. We were young, but he broke my heart the day he and his mom disappeared. From that point on, I closed my heart off to getting to really know people and letting them know me; it’s easier to keep emotions out of the picture. The story is always the same; they say they will stay in touch but never do.

  It doesn’t matter, though, because I only have one more year of high school, and then I’m off to South Carolina University to get my degree in marketing and interior design. It’s been my plan for as long as I can remember, and nothing is going to deter me. I’m a straight-A student and have tons of extracurriculars; I’m a college’s dream applicant.

  “Presley!”

  That’s my mom, Tina Donovan, the reason we are literally in the middle of nowhere.

  “Come on. You’re gonna miss the bus.”

  My mom is a teacher at the local elementary school and currently we’re living with my grandparents on their dude ranch.

  I take a final look at my outfit; a thin cream boatneck knit sweater under a pair of cuffed overall shorts and white converse tennis shoes is as good as it’s gonna get for the first day of school. There’s no reason for me to stand out; all I want to do is blend in and finish my senior year as inconspicuously as possible and walk away with my diploma.

  “Coming!” I yell from down the hallway.

  I make my way into the kitchen to grab my lunch and kiss Mom goodbye before heading out the door and down the gravel driveway to the main road where the bus picks me up. The walk isn’t too terribly long, and the view is actually relaxing and tranquil. Cedar fence posts line either side of the driveway, horses on one side, cattle on the other. The Montana mountains surround me; their snowcapped tops bounce the sunrise off of them.

  If I hadn’t fallen in love with South Carolina years ago, this is a place I could see myself settling into, never wanting to leave. Certain places take hold of your soul and never let go.

  I get to the end of the driveway as the bus is pulling up and step on board. Most seniors wouldn’t be caught dead riding the bus to school, but my parents don’t make much, and we can’t afford a second car. The bus isn’t awful, though. I find a seat in the back and the thirty-minute bus ride goes by uneventful.

  Aside from a lot of freshmen anxious for the first day of high school, sophomores who are excited they’re no longer the newbies, and a couple of juniors who still can’t believe their parents wouldn’t get them a car, I’m the only senior.

  As the bus pulls up to the brick school building, I notice it looks more like a prison than a school, the marquee welcomes all students with the promise of a great school year. Students pepper the lawn out front, girls hugging one another in a reunion after the summer apart, guys goofing off trying to get the attention of the girls, little groups here and there. And as the first bell rings, they make their way through the steel double doors of the single-story building. By the state of the building, it’s apparent that it hasn’t been updated since it was first built in the mid-1960s. Brown brick both outside and inside, fire red trim everywhere, and cream-speckled linoleum covers the floors. The hallways are lined with royal blue lockers, and across from the office, hang portraits of principals who had graced these halls with their presence.

  I make my way straight to the front office to check in and introduce myself to my counselor. After making the necessary corrections to my schedule, I meet with Principal Stewart. He’s an older gentleman with hair protruding from his ears longer than what resides on his head. Still, he seems kind enough and makes a joke about how you can’t have principal without the word pal. I give him a sympathy laugh and shake his hand in thanks for the kind welcome.

  After all these years, the routine is almost second nature to me, ten schools in thirteen years. As I leave the office, I look back to say a quick goodbye to the office staff and hit what feels like a brick wall. The sheer magnitude of the immovable force causes me to stumble back.

  “Sorry. I didn’t see you there,” a rough voice says to me.

  I look up at him and am immediately taken aback by his light blue eyes, broad
shoulders, and mussed sandy brown hair that looks as if it were styled to look like he had rolled out of bed. He has a crooked smirk, one side slightly higher than the other; his big calloused hand reaches out to steady me.

  “No. I’m sorry. I should watch where I’m going.” I give him a quick smile and walk out of the office.

  The rest of the day goes by pretty smoothly; I find all of my classes, chemistry, AP English and history, economics, and lunch, then finishing up my day with Algebra 2, sociology, and choir. Choir has always been a constant for me wherever I’ve gone. Schools change, people change, but music is always there—black notes on white paper.

  On my way to sociology, I’m bumped hard against my shoulder, this time throwing me into one of the lockers lining the hallway. The behemoth is laughing with two other guys, not even bothering to stop and apologize.

  “Excuse you.” Irritation coats my voice as he turns around. It’s the same boy from earlier in the day. The one who almost ran me over as I was exiting the front office. What are the chances? In a town this small, honestly pretty damn good.

  “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

  “Then I guess you should pay more attention to where you’re going.”

  He smirks, and I swear there is a glint of something in his eye.

  “But then I wouldn’t have run into you again. The name’s Brice Harte,” he says as he extends his hand out to shake mine while giving me a come-hither smile.

  I know boys like him all too well. The cocky jock who thinks he can get anything or anyone with a smile and smooth words. Instead, I simply look at him, roll my eyes, and walk away. I don’t have the time nor the energy for little high school playboys, but I can’t get over the fact there is something oddly familiar about him.

  Chapter Two

  Standing in the hallway, surrounded by my friends, I’m taken aback as I witness this five-foot eight-inch girl give me a lesson in manners. All I can think about is running my hands through her long blond hair, as I taste her perfectly pink lips. Her green eyes blaze with anger and familiarity while her hypnotic lips enunciate each word with disdain before she storms off.

  “Hey, any of you know who the new girl is?” I ask my two best friends.

  “Nah, man. Never seen her,” Trey replies.

  Marcus chimes in, “I’ve heard she’s a senior, though. Nothing more.”

  Intrigue settles deep inside of me as she’s the first girl ever to shut down my advances, let alone stood up to me for being an inconsiderate ass; it’s not like I was trying to be one. I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around me. Marcus was telling us about a girl he met over the summer, and Trey and I were laughing at his considerable lack of misfortune.

  “Maybe I’ll actually have a shot with her.” Trey laughs as she walks away from me and disappears around the corner. “She has no idea who you are Brice, and I don’t think she even cares to get to know you. I think I’m in love already.”

  A quick smack to the backside of Trey’s head and I head for the door. “Let’s go. We’re gonna be late for practice.”

  I’m the captain of the baseball team, I’ve led our team to state three times, and have brought home championships trophies ever since earning my place as designated pitcher my freshman year. I was put on the Varsity team as a freshman after a couple of weeks of practice. I’m used to my ego being routinely stroked by the presence of college scouts attending practices and games, not to mention the teachers, cheerleaders and other students who seem to thank me for putting this godforsaken town on the map.

  Colleges didn’t even know we existed before I came along with my arm, and now several others have reaped the benefits of my talent. It’s a blessing and a curse all in one—the pressure placed on me as a Freshman was suffocating.

  Even though school just started, I talked Coach into starting practice early this year. Too many seniors were hoping for scholarships and being scouted. This was my one chance to get out of the small town and make something of myself.

  *******

  “Mom, I’m home!” I call out as I walk through my grandparents’ ranch style home. The house is eerily quiet, which doesn’t surprise me since Mom usually puts in long hours the first couple weeks of school. Grabbing a snack and heading out to the back porch, I take a seat on the wooden bench swing and look out across the back field to the weathered red barn housing the ranches horses.

  It’s easy to see the appeal of the old ranch, and soon I’m lost in a daydream as Brice Harte seems to have taken up residence in my mind. Seconds or minutes, time seems to fade together, when I’m pulled from my thoughts by the sound of Mom’s voice.

  “Hey, sweetie. How was the first day of school?”

  “Hey. It was alright, nothing much to tell.”

  “Make any new friends?”

  “No, not really. There was this jerk of a guy; he bumped into me twice. Nothing says welcome, like getting tossed around.”

  Mom’s face burst with excitement at the mention of a guy, but before she could press the issue any further, I stop her.

  “Mom, please don’t read anything into this. I’m here for eleven months and then it’s off to South Carolina. I have a plan, remember?”

  She sits down on the bench next to me, gently rocking us back and forth. “Yeah. Yeah. I know. You’re not looking for anything, but it doesn’t hurt to at least try and make some new friends. Was he cute, at least?”

  “Mom!” my voice shrieks as it raises an octave. A mischievous grin spreads across her face while she puts her hands up in surrender.

  “Honey, eleven months is a long time to go without friends. You’ll have homecoming and prom this year, and I don’t want you to miss out on all the joy and excitement of it all. This is your senior year, a time to have fun, live a little, and enjoy the last days of your childhood. Promise me you’ll at least try to make a couple of friends, okay?”

  She tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I smile back at her. My mom and I are relatively close, a by-product of our constant moves, I’m sure, and I don’t want her to worry about me.

  “I’ll try, but I won't make any promises.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m gonna go work on my homework. Call me when dinner’s ready?” She smiles and swats at me as I walk past her.

  “I’ll send Gramps in when it’s ready,” she calls through the open sliding door as I give a slight wave back to her.

  “We’re having tacos.” She calls after me.

  Taco Tuesday has been a tradition in our house for as long as I can remember. I get to my room and start on my homework. I love all my classes except Algebra 2; numbers and I don’t exactly get along. Thankfully though, the assignment for class was short, and I was able to muddle my way through it.

  The next few days go by quickly. I end up getting to know a girl in choir; her name’s Olivia. She’s my complete opposite. They say big things come in little packages, there could be no better description for her. She is loud and intrusive, but from what I can tell, fiercely loyal, maybe she’ll be the one I actually stay friends with after school is over.

  “So do you have any big plans for this weekend?” she asks as we’re heading out of class.

  “Um no, not really. My grandparents own a dude ranch outside of town, so I’ll more than likely be helping out around there, assuming it doesn’t take me all weekend to do my algebra homework.” I roll my eyes at the thought of spending all my time staring at numbers that refuse to make sense to me. “Me and numbers DO NOT mix.”

  She giggles a little, “I’d offer to help you, but I’m probably just as lost as you are. The school offers free tutoring if you want to take advantage of it. It’s usually the upperclassman helping the younger ones, but occasionally you’ll get a senior helping a senior.”

  “Seeing how this is a sophomore-level class, I’ll take any help I can get. This class is the only thing standing in my way from keeping my valedictorian standing.”

  “Wai
t, are you one of those studies all the time students?”

  Shocked, I look at Olivia. “No.” Yes. My face begins to burn as I know she is about to call me out on the tiny white lie.

  “Oh my gosh! Yes, you are! Girl you need to get out and have some fun. You should totally come bowling with us Saturday night. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but the owners change up the music and light everything up in black lights on Saturday nights. It’s really a lot of fun, and I could introduce you to a few other people as well.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

  I stare down at the floor as we walk down the hall, trying to think of any reason as to why I won't be able to make it out. “I’ll see,” I finally say as she squeals with excitement and then runs off to catch up with another girl, leaving me alone once again. Maybe Mom was right about making some friends this year. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, after all.

  *****

  Sitting in his office, Coach’s deep, gravelly voice booms over me like a hammer hitting a gavel. “Brice, you need extracurriculars.”

  “I have baseball. And all the champion wins. Isn’t that good enough?”

  “Colleges want to see a more rounded applicant. I’ve got a tutoring request for Algebra 2. You’re in calculus; it’s the perfect opportunity to gain some volunteer hours. Do this, or I’ll have to bench you.”

  “But, Coach!” Rage seeps from every pore in my body as I look at him, challenging his demand. “You can’t do this!”

  “I can, and I will.”

  “So what? I sit with some sophomore for a couple of minutes a week and help them with their homework?”

  “Try an hour a day, three days a week.”

  “What? You’ve got to be kidding me! When am I going to practice?”

  “She said her schedule is pretty flexible. She would be open to meeting after your practice.”