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 FALSE START
VEGAS ACES: THE PLAYBOOK
BOOK TWO
© LISA SUZANNE 2023

All rights reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading,
and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher or author constitute
unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. No part of this book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the
author, except where permitted by law and except for excerpts used in reviews. If you would like to
use any words from this book other than for review purposes, prior written permission must be
obtained from the publisher.

Published in the United States of America by Books by LS, LLC.

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is purely
coincidental. All characters and events in this work are figments of the author’s imagination.
AUTHOR LINKS
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 BOOKS BY LISA SUZANNE

THE VEGAS ACES SERIES

Home Game (Book 1)
Long Game (Book 2)
Fair Game (Book 3)
Waiting Game (Book 4)
End Game (Book 5)
The Complete Series

VEGAS ACES: THE QUARTERBACK

Traded (Book 1)
Tackled (Book 2)
Timeout (Book 3)
Turnover (Book 4)
Touchdown (Book 5)

VEGAS ACES: THE TIGHT END

Tight Spot (Book 1)
Tight Hold (Book 2)
Tight Fit (Book 3)
Tight Laced (Book 4)
Tight End (Book 5)

VEGAS ACES: THE WIDE RECEIVER

Rookie Mistake (Book 1)
Hidden Mistake (Book 2)
Honest Mistake (Book 3)
No Mistake (Book 4)
Favorite Mistake (Book 5)

VEGAS HEAT: THE EXPANSION TEAM

Curveball (Book 1)
Fastball (Book 2)
Flyball (Book 3)
Groundball (Book 4)
Hardball (Book 5)

CLICK HERE FOR MORE

DEDICATION

To my family.
 CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 2: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 3: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 4: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 5: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 6: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 7: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 8: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 9: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 10: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 11: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 12: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 13: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 14: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 15: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 16: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 17: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 18: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 19: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 20: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 21: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 22: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 23: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 24: TRAVIS
CHAPTER 25: VICTORIA
CHAPTER 26: TRAVIS
 CHAPTER 1: TRAVIS

I stare at the place where her shoes were as I wait for my brain to catch up. It’s like I can’t think
straight, like I can’t really process what’s happening right now. It’s an out of body experience for a
minute where I try to make sense of what’s happening as if I’m looking over my own shoulder at the
place where the shoes should be.
Thank God I’m not one of those asshole parents who yells at my kid to put her shoes away or I
might not have noticed they were gone. They’re always right there next to the door, spaced out since
she kicks them off as she walks in, and I’ve tripped over them more than once since she moved in
only two weeks ago.
Jesus.
How has it only been two weeks? It feels like a lifetime has passed.
My brain finally catches up, though I refuse to admit it’s any sort of processing speed issue, and my
eyes focus on the front door lock.
I always lock it after I get in the house, but it’s unlocked. She snuck out the goddamn front door to
go…somewhere. But where?
Maybe she’s close. Maybe there’s no reason to panic.
I run around the perimeter of the house. I check the yard, behind the bushes, the garage…
everywhere, and I just feel like I’m wasting precious seconds.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. In a panic, I dial Evan’s number first.
“Hey, Woods, what’s going on?” he answers.
“Harper’s missing. Have you seen her?” My voice doesn’t sound like my voice. I hear the fear in
it, and that spurs me into action. I grab my car keys and slide into the Mercedes. I’ll fucking drive
around until I find her.
“She’s missing? What do you mean?”
“I mean she’s not here in the house. I went upstairs to get her from her room when dinner arrived,
and she wasn’t there. Her shoes are gone.”
I fire up the car but sit there for a second. I don’t want to not be here when she gets home. Maybe
she just went for a walk. But wouldn’t she tell me if she did?
“Oh shit,” he murmurs. “What can we do?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t even know what I should be doing. I’m going to go look
for her.”
“Where?” he asks.
“The school? She likes the school…” I trail off.
“It’s a four-mile drive from your place, dude. You really think she knows the way there?”
“I have no idea but I have to try something.”
“Does she have a phone?” he asks. “You can check her location that way.”
“No, no phone,” I say as my tires squeal down my driveway. But you better believe I’m getting her
one now and I’m fucking gluing it to her. Or maybe a chip to track her location.
Okay, I know that’s potentially going overboard, but anxiety is ripping down my spine as I fear
I’ve already fucked this thing up only two weeks in. It’s on me. Whatever the reason is that she left…
it’s on me.
She couldn’t have gone too far. She was only upstairs maybe an hour or two at most, and now
she’s probably hungry and maybe scared and fuck fuck fuck.
“I’m on my way, okay?” Evan says. “Trudy and I are both here for you, whatever you need. Call
the police, too. File a missing person’s report.”
“Can you do that for me? I need to drive,” I say.
“You got it. I’ll call the police then I’ll be on my way to help search for her.”
“Thanks, man.” I cut the call as I try to figure out who else to call, but my eyes are focused on the
road and the sidewalks as I make my way toward the school. It’s dark out, and it’s hard to see, and
fucking hell, what if somebody took her? What if she’s hurt or in danger or scared right now?
What did I do to fuck this all up?
Oh, right.
I told her not to contact Hartley outside of school hours. I used a bad word. I raised my voice, and
I told her we should look at different schools again.
I feel like I can’t do anything right. Maybe I can’t. I’m struggling here. Life changed overnight for
her, but it changed overnight for me, too, and I’ve been feeling my way through this like I’m walking
through the darkness with my hands stretched out in front of me, but then I miss something right
underneath me because I can’t fucking see and that’s what takes me down.
I don’t know how to do this.
I don’t know how to raise a kid or how to parent or how to be there for somebody besides myself.
I think about calling my father. Would he even know what to do? He’s a smart man, but being a
smart man doesn’t equate to being a good father. But this is his granddaughter, and I know he bonded
with her once he found out she was my kid even though he couldn’t say anything about it.
I pull into the school parking lot and glance around. It’s quiet and peaceful here tonight, with not
even a breeze moving the swing set or rustling the trees, and it looks deserted as an elementary school
should look on a weekend evening.
My heart sinks. I have no idea what to do. I don’t know where to turn next. My stomach twists and
a loud voice in my brain reminds me that I knew I couldn’t do this. I jumped in headfirst and tried, but
I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing here.
Feeling sorry for myself isn’t the right thing to do, but I’m really not sure where to turn next.
I stare helplessly at my phone, debating whether or not to call my father and admit I fucked up
when my phone rings.
I don’t recognize the number, and the first thought that crosses my mind is that it’s someone calling
with a ransom demand to get my daughter back.
I’ve been watching too many true crime shows, I think.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hi Travis, it’s Victoria Hartley.”
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Like I need more shit from her when my daughter is
missing. Is she fucking kidding me right now?
Before I get the chance to come up with some witty remark about how she must really want me if
she’s calling my personal number the night after the kiss that never should have happened, she starts
talking.
“Harper is here with me. She’s safe.”
“Oh, thank fuck.” I let out a heavy breath as the tension in my chest eases at her words, but
different emotions move into its place—namely relief fused with fury. “She’s there with you? Safe?”
 “Yes.”
“And she’s okay?” I ask, my teeth gritted together as I try to keep calm.
“She’s upset, but she’s okay.”
I stare ahead of me at the school. “Where are you?”
“Home. Well, Mandy’s apartment. I’m staying with her for now.”
My curiosity is piqued as to why that’s her current situation, but there are more pressing matters at
hand than Victoria Hartley’s living situation. “Can I talk to her?”
She clears her throat. “She’s in the bathroom now, but I, uh, think it’d probably be better if you just
came to get her. She was practically hyperventilating with sobs when she started banging on my door,
and she said she didn’t know where else to go.”
“How did she know where you live?” I ask.
“I think she used some app where she could find her friends,” she says. “Do you want me to bring
her home?”
“Text me the address. I’m on my way now to come get her.” I cut the call, text Evan that I found
her, and the address comes through a few beats later. So my kid can’t fucking read, but she can use her
apps to track down where her reading teacher lives?
That kid is real fucking smart, that’s for damn sure.
It’s not far from my place, so I turn the car around and drive back toward home.
In fact, I drive by this very apartment complex nearly every single day since it’s less than a mile
from my place, and now when I drive by I’ll remember the fear of the time my little girl ran from me.
I race over to Victoria’s place, and my heart hammers in my chest as I walk from the Mercedes
toward apartment two-sixteen, the one she sent me in the text.
I’m not sure if my heart is hammering because I have to deal with my runaway kid or if it’s
because I’m about to see Hartley again.
A combination of both, I suppose, but I don’t really want Hartley to be affecting me this way.
I don’t want any of this to be my reality, yet here we are.
I raise my hand and knock three times, and then I wait.
 CHAPTER 2: TRAVIS

When the door opens, Victoria stands to the side and I spot my girl standing just down the hallway.
She looks surprised to see me, and I rush over to her and collapse at her feet before I grab her into my
arms in the tightest bear hug anyone has ever given another person.
“Stop, dude, I can’t breathe,” she says, that sassiness that’s always present back in her voice.
She called me dude. That’s got to count for something.
I pull back, and that’s when the fury edges out the relief. I wrap my hands around her tiny shoulders
and get my face right up in hers. “Don’t you ever run away again, do you hear me?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“And I thought I told you to stay away from Hartley,” I snarl.
“You did, and I’m sorry but I really—”
“No buts, kid. When I ask you not to do something, or when I ask you to do something for that
matter, your job is to listen. You understand me?”
Her eyes fall to the ground. “Yes.”
“And here of all places?” I blow out a breath as I try to regain my calm. I shouldn’t talk shit about
Hartley. I know this, but she just makes me so fucking heated in every sense of the word.
The door opens and Ms. Miller walks in. She’s carrying a brown paper bag, and her brows pinch
together as she takes in the scene in front of her.
“Harper, uh, came to visit and didn’t tell her dad,” Victoria whispers to her roommate in a quick
summary of why we’re here.
“Oh, um, hi there Harper. Mr. Woods.” She nods at the two of us and sets her brown paper bag
down on the counter, and the way it clinks as she sets it down tells me she’s got liquor in there.
She shares a long look with Victoria before she glances at me, and then she looks at Harper. “Hey
Harper, can I show you something out on the balcony?” she asks.
No. No no no. I don’t want to be alone with Hartley, but Miller is forcing our hand here.
She takes Harper outside and shuts the door, and Victoria glances at me and opens her mouth to
speak, but I speak first.
“What was that look Miller gave you before she took Harper outside?” I demand.
“Look, I know you’re both going through a hard time, and I know you don’t like me, but I’m an
adult she trusts, so maybe you can just pretend for her sake. She came here because she was upset
with you.”
“It’s not that I don’t like you,” I growl, figuring we’ll get to the whole Harper was upset with me
thing in a minute. “To be clear, I don’t, but the issue here is that I want you but I can’t have you.”
Her jaw slackens as if she’s not quite sure how to respond to that, and if my kid wasn’t outside on
the balcony right now, I’d take Hartley right here up against the front door and fuck her until she
couldn’t see straight.
Jesus.
There’s passion and desire firing off between the two of us, this strange sort of lust I’m not sure
I’ve felt before, and I know it’s not just me. I know it’s not—it can’t be, not when it’s this strong. But
we’re both fighting against it for different reasons.
“You want me?” she finally asks. “I thought you hated me.”
“I do.”
 She looks confused, and I’m confused, too—this whole wanting her but hating her thing has me on
edge, and so I clap back with words intended to hurt.
“It’s fine. I have a little black book filled with names I can call, and not a single one of them will
reject me like you have.”
They do their job. Her face falls a little, but she pulls it together. She nods. “That kiss last night
never should have happened.”
“Oh, now you want to talk about the kiss? Fuck off. You’re right. It shouldn’t have, and it told me
everything I needed to know.”
“That you want me but can’t have me?” she correctly guesses.
But I’m too stubborn to let her have the win.
I shake my head. “No. That even a one and done wouldn’t be worth it with you.”
I’m not sure why I say it other than because I want to keep twisting that knife and hurting her more,
but I feel like shit when I see the effect of my words.
The truth is I’m not sure I’d be able to keep it to a one and done with her…but it’s a truth I will
never admit to her.
She does look hurt, and I’m about to apologize when she says, “I’m worth way more than what you
could give me. The way you treat women is disgusting, and I feel sorry for your little girl that she’s
going to grow up thinking what you do is okay when it’s not. She’s welcome back here any time, but
you are not.” She snarls a little as she says it, and goddammit why do I find that so fucking sexy? My
eyes dart to her lips.
Why does the way she snags her lip between her teeth make me want to walk over and help myself
to a taste? Why does the way she has her arms crossed over her chest so she’s pushing up her tits
make me want to bury my face in her cleavage and breathe her in for the rest of eternity? Fuck.
If I had a swear jar for my thoughts, Harper would be rich.
I shake off those thoughts.
“We’re sort of a package deal,” I say dryly. “But don’t worry, she won’t be coming back here
again. Not now that I know you’re way too good for me.” I roll my eyes at her.
“Oh fuck you,” she says.
“Real professional way to talk to a parent of a student,” I shoot back.
“Maybe if you had a better relationship with her, she wouldn’t have come running here in the first
place.”
She hits where it hurts, and I press my lips together without another retort, head to the balcony
where Miller is showing my kid the bright lights of the strip that they can see far off in the distance,
grab her hand, and take her home without looking back at Hartley again.
I can’t do it.
I’m not sure what other weapons we’ll use to hurt each other when we both know all the harm
we’re doing is purely because we’re both denying the strong pull we both feel. But we’re also both
adamant it’ll never happen.
 CHAPTER 3: VICTORIA

“Tell me everything and leave not a single detail out,” Mandy says once the door closes behind
Travis and Harper.
“He said some mean things and I said some mean things back and I regret it but I can’t change it,” I
ramble. She has her own story to tell considering she’s wearing the same clothes she wore last night
to the Gridiron and I haven’t seen her in nearly twenty-four hours.
She grabs the brown paper bag she set on the counter a few minutes ago and brings it over to the
couch, where I’m currently collapsing. She pulls a bottle of Tito’s out, cracks the cap, and hands it
over to me to take the first sip.
I chug a bit more than necessary before handing it back, and the burn feels good as it spreads
warmth through my chest.
“Start from the beginning,” she suggests as she takes the bottle from me and chugs her own sip.
I blow out a breath. “So I heard this quiet knocking on the door, and it was Harper. She was crying
and scared, and I guess she walked from Travis’s place here.”
Mandy’s brows dip. “Where does he live?”
I shrug. “No idea. She said he keeps threatening to pull her from Stratford and find her a new
school, and it’s like the one stable thing in her life right now that she actually likes, and she didn’t
know where else to go.”
“How’d she find you here?” Mandy asks.
“I was showing her how to message me in my office one day if she ever needed me and I shared
my location with her to show her how that works when we were at school. I never imagined she’d
actually track me down.”
“Jeez. Poor girl.” She hands the bottle back to me.
I nod before I take a sip, and then I say, “I think she just really misses her mom, you know? Can
you imagine how hard it is for a kid that age to lose both parents and have to move to a different state
with a father she never met? Not only did she lose both her parents, but then she finds out her dad
wasn’t really her dad…it’s all so messed up, but she’s a special little girl and I just want to help
however I can but he keeps pushing me away.” I sniffle a little as I feel the burn of tears threatening. I
hate that I’ve become so attached to her in such a short time, but I care about her. I want to help her
succeed, and while it’s not my place to parent her, I want to be there for her in whatever way she
needs me.
“I get it.” She takes the bottle back for another swig. “Maybe he’s pushing you away because he’s
scared, too. His life just got flipped upside down, you know? And we’ve both dealt with rough cases
in our careers, but there’s something really special about that little girl.”
I press my lips together as I consider her point that maybe he’s scared, too. She’s right, but I don’t
want to defend him right now. I’m too angry with him. “There is. I did my best to let her know she can
always trust me but that I had to call her father, and she eventually relented. I think part of her wanted
to scare him, and she succeeded. You should’ve seen his face when he walked in. He looked so
scared that I just wanted to hug him.”
“You wanted to hug him because he looked scared? Or because you wanted to feel his body
pressed up against yours again?” she asks, a little sly smile playing at her lips.
 “Stop.” My voice is a little tired, as if I can’t quite muster up the denial to her claim because she’s
partially right. “I just…” I shake my head. “He’s such a jerk, and I hate him, but…”
“But you want his penis inside your vagina?” she guesses.
I can’t help a laugh at her words. “No. I want his tongue up in there first.”
“I knew it!”
“I don’t understand it, though. I hate him so much but when those blue eyes fall on me…” I trail off
as I picture them in my mind…as I picture his lips on mine like last night, as I remember how he
smelled. I sigh. “I could just get lost in them, you know?”
“You’re a smitten kitten. What are you going to do about it?”
I shrug. “Nothing. I’m going to keep his little girl safe when she’s in my care, and I’m going to
ignore the attraction I have to him. It’s my only choice after the things he said to me tonight.”
“What did he say?”
“That he has a little black book full of women who won’t reject him the way I do.” I don’t admit
how much those words cut into me.
“Ouch. You think he’s fucking around all over town still with a kid now?”
“I have no idea.” I chug more from the bottle, but it doesn’t seem to help ease the ache in my chest.
“I think I’m starting to have real feelings for him, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I can do anything
about it.”
“Sure you can. Why not take the shot? What are you scared of?”
“I’ve seen how just his words can affect me. I can’t imagine what sort of emotional suicide I’ll be
making if I were to actually get involved with him. Besides, there’s a kid in the picture. It’s not so
simple, you know?” I point out.
“Yeah, but kids are resilient.”
“She’s been through enough,” I say firmly, as if that’ll end the subject.
I should know better. Mandy always gets the last word.
“And she could probably use a steady female figure presence more often in her life…especially if
she’s running away from him to you on the weekend,” she points out.
I sigh, and then I change the subject. “So what happened after I left the Gridiron last night?”
Her cheeks burn pink. “Oh man, do I have a story to tell.”
I raise a brow, glad that the attention is off me for a change.
“So Jaxon and I were flirting all night, and he bought me some more drinks, and good God he’s
smooth, and we made out in the booth a little so he could preview the things he can do with his
tongue, and then he invited me back to his place for another drink, and then I gargled his ten-inch dick
for a bit, and I slept over but we didn’t have sex, just the oral stuff, and the things he can do with his
tongue?” She kisses her fingertips. “Chef’s kiss.”
I’m cackling by the time she’s done with her explanation. “You gargled his dick?” I repeat.
She giggles, too. “Sorry, would you prefer I say I gave him a blow job?” She gets all serious for a
beat as she says it with the most formality she can muster.
“Ten inches, huh?” I ask, twisting my lips as I consider that. “So when are you going to bang?”
“He had somewhere to go tonight, but he invited me to dinner tomorrow.”
“Whoa, already?”
She shrugs. “It’s the gargling. He was a big, big fan. It’s not the first time I’ve been told I give
good head.”
 I giggle. “Too much information, my friend.”
She elbows me. “Never too much. So when are you gonna slob Woods’s knob?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Half past never?”
“Wrong answer. What do you have to lose?”
I think about that for a beat. There’s an awful lot to lose if I shoot a real shot with Travis Woods.
My heart, for one. Harper’s heart, for two.
Do I think what we could have would be explosive and powerful?
For sure.
But do I also think the inevitable end of it would be horrific, particularly with a child involved?
Absolutely.
And I’m just not ready to set myself up for that sort of failure.
 CHAPTER 4: TRAVIS

We’re silent on the ride home.

I’m seething over my conversation with Hartley that was forced because this little girl found it just
a-okay to run away from home to the one person I’d marked as off-limits.
She’s seething over…whatever it is ten-year-old girls seethe over.
I’m ready to yell. I’m ready to unleash the anger and the fear I felt because of her.
But I don’t. I try to pull it together instead with a lot of deep breathing on the short ride home. I flip
a quarter up into the air over and over when I’m at stoplights. I very slowly start to calm down.
I pull into the garage and cut the engine, but I don’t move for a beat. The girl, however, rips off her
seatbelt, tosses open her door, then slams it shut. I watch as she storms into the house and slams that
door, too, and I wonder if they make some sort of contraption that makes doors unslammable so she
doesn’t destroy the frames in this rental.
I draw in a fortifying breath before I head inside, and when I finally do, first I trip over her shoes,
and I find her near the kitchen table sobbing.
I sink to the floor beside her, and then I pull her down onto my lap and cradle her like a baby for a
beat.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Her only answer is a sniffle.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit. “I know your world just changed, but so did mine, you
know? I’m not trying to make this about me, but I’m doing the best I can, kid. I’m doing what I think is
right for you, and you might not always agree with that, or with me, but we’re in this together. You can
run all you want, but you’ll never be able to run away from your problems. Maybe I’m not one to talk
about this shit because I’ve done it too, but you can run as fast as you want to and the problems will
still be there staring you in the face when your legs give out. If there’s any one lesson I think we can
both take from this, it’s that we’ll only get through the hard part if we stick through it together.”
She’s silent, but I know she’s listening.
“Do you want to talk about why you ran?” I finally ask. I’m still holding her, and she’s letting me.
She’s leaning back into the arm held across her back in support, her head is resting on my chest, her
legs are across my lap, and my other arm holds her behind her knees.
I want to ask her not why she ran but why she ran to Victoria, but it doesn’t seem important right
now.
She swipes at a tear as it escapes her eyes. “I miss my mom.”
“I know, ladybug,” I murmur. Does Victoria remind her of her mom in some way? Or is it just the
adult female presence she’s craving? “I know you do. What do you miss about her?”
“I dunno.” She shrugs a little, and it strikes me how little she actually is. “Her homecooked meals,
for one.”
I laugh. “What’s your favorite thing she used to make you?”
“Macaroni and cheese with hot dogs cut up in it.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I got you macaroni for dinner tonight,” I point out.
“Yeah but it’s not the good stuff. It’s restaurant stuff. And there’s no hot dogs.” She sniffles and
wipes more tears.
“What’s the good stuff?”
 “The blue box, the one with the powder.”
“Kraft?” Hell, I can make that shit, and I can microwave a hot dog. It sounds nasty to me, but if it’s
what the kid wants, it’s what the kid gets.
She nods. “Yeah, Kraft.”
I hug her toward me for just a beat, and then I press a soft kiss to her forehead because it just feels
right to comfort her right now…and then I’ll comfort her with my kickass kitchen skills.
I release her from my grasp. “Go get your shoes on.”
Her brows dip. “For what?”
“You’ll see.”
She returns a second later, and then I direct her back out to the garage. I take her to the grocery
store, where we stock up on the good macaroni and her favorite hot dogs, and I let her pick out two
tubs of ice cream and we take a swing down the candy aisle, where she fills up the cart with sour
candies to her heart’s content.
We head home, and I make her the good stuff. My first attempt at microwaving a hot dog results in
it exploding all over my microwave, but I do a better job on my second attempt, and I only burn my
finger a little when I take it out to cut it up into little chunks that I then mix into the macaroni.
But her laughter and her wide smile while she helps me make it worth every second of effort I put
in, and when she pats her full tummy after her second bowl of ice cream with a smile playing at her
lips, I feel like I finally did something right.
Now to replicate it all over again tomorrow.
I get her down to bed in her own room as has become our routine even though I know she’ll appear
in my bed before I’m ready to call it a night, and I head back down to binge some true crime.
I don’t really have a little black book per se, but I scroll through my contacts as I try to find
somebody, anybody, who I’d want to invite over for a quick romp in the backseat of my car in the
garage.
I can’t really think of any other place where I could get a quick bang. My bed’s out. My guest room
is no longer a guest room, and the couch is out. The backyard maybe? I’d be worried she’d catch me
out there. Hell, I’d be worried in my garage, too, but I need to get my rocks off. My hand just ain’t
cutting it anymore.
I blow out a breath as I scroll.
Tabby, Talia, Tamara, Tatum, Taylor…the list goes on, and not a single one is igniting any sort of
spark in me.
Maybe Harper needs another sleepover and maybe I need a night at Coax to work off some of this
energy.
And then she shows up in my brain again.
Her lips. Those soft, strawberry lips that pressed to mine for a moment that was far too short.
Fuck.
What is it about her?
Is it because she’s a challenge? Because she rejected me more than once now? Because she’s
smarter than me and too good for me?
Is it because I only had that one little taste and now my body won’t stop until I have a second one?
Or is it because she’s hot as fuck and has a tight little body that I want to find my way into?
I need something to get Victoria Hartley out of my mind, that’s for goddamn sure.
Why do I have a feeling that the only thing that’s going to get her out of my mind…is her?
 CHAPTER 5: VICTORIA

I swing by Mandy’s classroom a little before the final bell rings so I can grab Harper for our first
after school tutoring session before the hallways start to fill with kids scrambling to get out the door
after a long Monday.
Well, it was long for me, anyway. I know I’ll see him at pick-up since I’ll be walking Harper to
her father’s car, and the thought of seeing him again convinced me to dress a little nicer and put a little
more effort into doing my hair today.
I’m not sure why.
I don’t want to impress him or anything, and yet…admitting to Mandy that I might be having
feelings for him seemed to unlock something inside me.
It still isn’t right. I still should fight against it.
But I’m not her teacher, and even if I was, there’s no law stating that teachers can’t date parents.
Given my desire for that district reading specialist position, though, I probably need to be careful
about getting caught up with a parent.
Not that we’re getting involved. It was one kiss that we both said should never have happened.
If it never should have happened…why can’t I stop thinking about it?
Why do I so badly want it to happen again?
I’m already thinking about this weekend and whether I can talk Mandy into going out to the
Gridiron again. I’m even thinking about how I can get Jaxon to invite her to something he will be at
and she can invite me and we can create an opportunity for another kiss…or more.
God, what am I thinking?
I hate him.
But maybe Mandy’s right. Maybe we just need a little angry sex to work out whatever this is, and
then we can both move on.
Harper walks with me back to my office, and I’ve honestly been wondering all day whether I
should bring up what happened this weekend with her, but ultimately I decide that Travis handled it
however he did and it’s a moot point between the two of us now.
“Your hair looks pretty today,” she says to me once she sits in my office at the little round table
where I work with kids.
“Thank you,” I say, flipping the curls a little over my shoulder, and she giggles as I’m reminded of
a great fine motor skill that might even help her with her grip a little. “Speaking of hair, do you know
how to braid?”
She shakes her head as her giggles fade. “My mom used to braid my hair but she never taught me.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “My mom taught my sister and me how to. I can teach you if you
want.”
She nods, blue eyes wide, and I wish she didn’t have eyes the exact shade as her father’s because
all they do is remind me of him. “I would love that.”
“Okay, we’ll do a little reading practice, and then we’ll take a break and I’ll show you. Sound
good?”
She nods eagerly, and we get started on reading a book filled with sight words she should know.
It’s a lot of repetition at this point, so once she gets through the first book, I grab a rubber band out of
my desk drawer and do a quick braid on her hair. I talk out the steps while I do it, and then I sit in the
chair.
“Now you try,” I say, and she stands behind me as she grabs a chunk of my hair as instructed.
“Now take the hair in your left hand and put it over the hair in your right hand.”
“I need a third hand,” she says with a giggle, and I laugh, too. And that’s when I hear the shouting.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
We both whip our heads toward the door, and she drops my half-braided hair in the process.
There stands her father, and he seems like he’s almost trembling with anger. “Why weren’t you
outside at the pickup line?” he roars as he zeroes in on Harper, his eyes moving right past me.
“I had tutoring today,” she says quietly. “Ms. Hartley said it was on the paperwork that you
signed.”
He narrows his eyes as his gaze falls onto me. “Is this a tutoring session or hair club?” he
demands.
“It’s tutoring,” I say, forcefully keeping the defensiveness from my tone. “We were taking a
braiding brain break, something to reward her after she had a great reading session.”
“Nobody told me it started today. I was waiting out there for twenty minutes and nobody knew
where my kid was,” he says. “After the shit you pulled this weekend, I had no idea if you ran off again
or what. I should’ve known she’d be here with you.” The way he says you makes me physically feel
the hatred he feels toward me.
Okay, maybe angry sex isn’t the answer. But seeing him all worked up like this…I can’t deny that
it’s kind of sexy.
“I apologize if you were worried, but it was on the paperwork Ms. Miller sent home,” I say.
“Fine. Let’s go, Harper.”
“We still have another ten minutes,” I say.
“Of braiding hair?” he sneers. “I think she’ll be fine.”
“The next session is Wednesday and it runs a half hour again. Ms. Miller and I will make sure
she’s where she needs to be,” I say.
“Or we can hire a private tutor to help her out,” he practically spits at me. “You know, one that
actually works on reading skills and not hairdos.”
“I like working with Ms. Hartley,” Harper protests, and my heart warms both that she likes
working with me and that she’s sticking up for herself. She’s stronger than she realizes.
He stares off with her for a beat before he relents. “Fine. What days and times is this tutoring thing
again?”
“Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until three-thirty,” I say. “I will be sure to walk her to your car at
the end of our sessions.”
“Great. And when can I expect she’ll be able to braid hair?”
Oh fuck off, I nearly say, but I catch myself since Harper is present. Instead I offer a sugary, fake
smile. “However many brain breaks it takes. See you tomorrow, Harps.” I’m not sure why I shorten
her name, but she does it back.
“Later, Harts.”
Harps and Harts. I like the ring of it…and maybe even more so because her dad just stands there
looking like he’s about to barf at the cuteness of it all.
“Again I apologize, sir, for worrying you,” I say to Travis.
I watch his entire demeanor change at my use of the word sir.
 His eyes seem to glaze over as they dart to my lips, so I play it up by snagging by bottom lip
between my teeth.
His tongue darts out to wet his own lips, too, and then he tears his eyes away from me. “Let’s go,”
he says to his daughter, but I don’t miss the gruff rasp in his voice that tells me he feels it, too.
This thing between us might be becoming a little too big to ignore.
 CHAPTER 6: TRAVIS

I saw her when she walked Harper out after tutoring, but I refused to actually look at her. Instead I
sat in the car and peeled out of the parking lot as soon as Harper was buckled in the back.
“How was tutoring?” I ask.
“Fine.”
“And hair club?”
“We didn’t do braiding today. She said you didn’t like it so we couldn’t, so thanks a lot,” she
sasses.
I remain quiet after that. Are my feelings toward Hartley affecting my kid now? Because that’s not
okay. Do I need to find a way to smooth things over?
What I really want is to get her to finally give in so I can hate fuck the hell out of her and we can
move forward into whatever direction that takes us, but that seems unlikely.
“It’s fine to do your hair stuff for brain breaks,” I finally mutter.
Another day passes, and thankfully I don’t have to see Hartley on Thursday. I get a text from my
old Thursday night group chat making arrangements for the Gridiron for dinner and possibly a club
afterward, and I could really use the night out but I still have no idea who to have watch my kid.
I voice text Evan while Harper is at school.
Me: I know it’s unconventional, but any chance Harper can spend the night tonight so I can
meet up with some of the guys on offense?
I realize it sounds like a work-related meeting, which it isn’t, but I let it fly anyway. I’m starting to
get a little desperate for a slice of my old normalcy back, and the night out with the old crew might be
just what I need to get Hartley out of my mind.
He replies about a half hour later.
Evan: Works for us, and Trudy said she’ll be sure to get her off to school in the morning.
Relief filters through me, and she’s thrilled when I pick her up and tell her she’s spending the night
at Bella’s.
“On a school night?” she squeals.
“On a school night,” I confirm.
We pack her overnight bag and make sure both dinocorns make it in, and I drop her just before
dinnertime with two extra hugs—initiated by her, by the way.
Maybe I actually am getting somewhere with her.
Hartley’s words from the other night come back to me, though, as I navigate my car toward the
Gridiron.
I feel sorry for your little girl that she’s going to grow up thinking what you do is okay when it’s
not.
Do I have a different example to set tonight? Or can I just have a night off where I’m back to the
old Trav?
It’s what I want. I want a night where things feel normal again, but I’m not even sure what normal
feels like anymore.
It should feel normal when I’m shooting the shit and eating the best chicken wings in Vegas with
Jaxon, Cory, and Austin—the only three members of the Thursday night crew in town during the off-
season this year—but it doesn’t. It also doesn’t feel normal when I bet Cory I can chug a beer faster
than him—which I do, by the way.
And it certainly doesn’t feel normal when Cory suggests Coax for our post-Gridiron evening
activity as we finish our fourth round of drinks, but I guess I’m going for the ride anyway.
“You coming?” I ask Jaxon.
His eyes twinkle a little as he glances up from his phone. “I’m meeting Miller tonight.”
“Again? What is this thing between the two of you?” I ask.
“Oh, she’s nasty,” he says with a stupid, goofy grin on his face as he studies his phone.
“Jesus, man. That’s my kid’s teacher you’re talking about.” I make a face at him.
“Yeah, yeah. She’s also the hottest fuck I’ve had in a long time.”
My brows knit together. “You had sex with her?”
He nods, and he looks up slowly from his phone. When his eyes meet mine, I can tell this is
actually something with her. It’s not just a one-time deal. “Oh, we had the sex.”
“Spare me the details, but be careful with her. She’s not a Coax girl, you know what I mean?”
He nods. “Yeah, I know. And I have a feeling she’s the one who needs to be careful here. The fact
that she’s not a Coax girl is one of the things I like about her.”
I get what he means. Coax has sort of become an in-person Tinder for people who make a certain
amount of money each year, which means when you go to Coax, you sort of know you’re going into it
for sex, and while many times this leads to feelings and emotions and wanting more, it’s always been
one-sided for me and this crew here, at least. I’m sure love connections have happened there, but if
I’m going there as a single dude and not bringing my girl with me, then I’m going to hook up. That’s
just the way it is.
“Are you gonna take her there?” Cory asks.
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
An image of Jaxon on top of Mandy Miller in one of the viewing rooms on the third floor appears
right there in my brain, and I chug the rest of my beer to try to get it out. Please don’t take my kid’s
teacher to a club where there’s an entire floor where people can have public sex if they want.
Old Trav would never have said those words aloud. New Trav barely holds himself back, but it’s
not my place to tell Jaxon what he can or can’t do.
Austin drives since he’s only had one, and I guess I’m at the mercy of whenever he wants to leave,
though the owners recently started employing drivers to bring people out here or back home since it’s
a half hour drive toward the middle of the desert from the Strip. I’ve used the service once or twice,
and as I recall, it was a great place to pregame.
I don’t need to drink to have a good time at Coax, but it’s always nice to take the edge off before I
find someone to take up to the suites. There’s four viewing rooms up there and six private rooms, and
as long as there’s availability, we’re welcome to use them. I’ve only hooked up here a handful of
times. I actually find it more enjoyable to hang out on the second floor, which is a high-rent strip club,
or the first floor, which is one part traditional nightclub and one part gentlemen’s parlor with a bar
and pool tables.
When we arrive, I beeline for the bar and grab another beer. I play a round of pool with Austin
after Cory tells us he’s heading to the second floor to find a dancer to hook up with.
It doesn’t feel right being here.
How would I feel if somehow word got out that I’m not just visiting this exclusive club, but I’m a
member? How would that look?
 Why do I care?
Oh, right, because I have a kid now…but it’s not just that if I’m being honest.
I spot two women lounging on one of the leather couches as they watch our intense game on the
pool table.
I see the blonde giving me the eyes, and a few weeks ago, I probably would’ve found a quiet space
at this club to bang her.
But tonight…something’s off. I’m not interested. I don’t even know why I’m here, to be honest.
Those words come back to me again. I feel sorry for your little girl that she’s going to grow up
thinking what you do is okay when it’s not.
Is she right?
What kind of role model am I for a little girl to look up to when I treat women the way I do? It’s
been almost a month since I’ve been to this club because I was ghosting some chick I didn’t want
more than one night with.
How would I feel if my daughter was of age and someone treated her that way?
I’d fucking rage on the asshole, that’s how I’d feel.
And now when I look around this place, all I can think about is how every woman in this room
was once a ten-year-old girl, and this is what they grew into, and they all have dads—they may not be
good dads, or dads who care, or whatever…but maybe they are. Maybe some old dude is sitting at
home wondering what his daughter is up to tonight, thinking she’s out dancing with her friends at a
club when in reality she’s going to hook up tonight and the guy isn’t going to call her tomorrow and
she’s going to feel very hurt because of that.
It's not the case for everyone here, certainly.
I have two balls left on the table and Austin has one, and I miss an easy shot as these thoughts
plague my mind. He sails his final ball in for the win, and I grab my phone to Venmo him the hundred
bucks we bet on the first game.
“Double or nothing?” he asks.
I glance at the women watching us, and I see they’re both gathering their drinks and they’re
standing up and looking in our direction, which means they’re coming over to shoot their shot.
Austin doesn’t see them, but I do. I should probably let him have his shot with the brunette starting
her approach, but I need an excuse to reject the blonde because I’m just not feeling it tonight.
“Yeah, double or nothing,” I say before they get to us, and he starts gathering the balls to rack them
up again.
“You’re Travis Woods,” the blonde says to me as the brunette makes her move on Austin.
I press my lips together and nod. “I am.”
“I’ve heard about you,” she says, leaning in so her mouth is close to my ear. “Good things. Really
good things.”
Is this supposed to be turning me on? It’s not.
It screams of desperation as much as her jasmine-scented perfume.
“I’m sorry, baby, but I’m just here playing pool with my buddy tonight,” I say as I try to let her
down gently.
She doesn’t take the hint, though, and instead, she presses herself further into my side.
And that’s when I spot them across the room.
Jaxon Bryant with none other than fifth grade teacher Mandy Miller on his arm.
 Her eyes zero in on me, and she looks a little surprised that I’ve got a girl pressed up on me.
Great. This is just exactly what I needed…Miller going back home and reporting to her roommate
what a scum dog I am when Hartley already thinks it anyway.
Fuck it. If the reputation is already there, I may as well play into it.
I turn toward the girl next to me. “Let’s talk after this next game, okay? I’ve got two hundred bucks
riding on it.”
“I’ll be cheering you on from right here,” she says, and she runs a long fingernail along my
jawline.
I know Miller is watching the entire exchange, and as she passes by me with wide eyes, she winks
and wiggles her eyebrows then brings a finger up to her lips as if to say shh.
Maybe she won’t report back to her roommate after all.
Jaxon takes her up the stairs, and maybe I didn’t need to know that my daughter’s teacher might just
be a nasty freak.
 CHAPTER 7: VICTORIA

I’m home alone at Mandy’s place on Thursday night since she had a date with Jaxon. I’m surprised
she decided to go out since it’s a school night, but I get the attraction of not wanting to turn down a
chance to see the NFL star currently trying to court her.
I’m scrolling through my favorite Vegas entertainment website when I see my favorite band is
coming to town in a couple months.
I click the link to see what two tickets to the Imagine Dragons would set me back, and the prices
are definitely out of my range.
Too bad.
I’d love to see them, but considering I’m currently homeless, I should probably not splurge on
tickets so I can save up for a deposit on a new place. Living with Mandy is fun temporarily, but it
kind of sucks living in someone’s guest room. I need my own space, and I’m sure Mandy wants her
privacy back, too.
And it’s not just the price that stops me short.
Who would even go with me?
My sister and I used to go to concerts together, but she has two kids now. Owen and I used to go to
concerts together, but we broke up. Mandy might go, but now she’s seeing Jaxon and she might want
to go with him.
Looking at the tickets does nothing more than make me feel incredibly lonely.
I force myself off the ticket website and scroll through home rentals instead. It looks like an
apartment is my best option financially, but the ones here in Mandy’s complex are all full, and there
aren’t any others super close to Stratford, so then I’d have a bit of a commute to work. I check for
anything near the district office just in case. It’s on the other side of town from Stratford, so it’s a
good twenty-minute drive without traffic…and in this town, there’s always traffic.
I give up my search and check the district website to see if the reading specialist position is posted
yet, but it’s not. I spend a little time looking over my resume and jotting down the ideas I have for the
district reading program, but my heart just doesn’t feel like it’s in it tonight.
I make myself a stiff drink and steel my nerves to try calling Owen, but he doesn’t pick up. I leave
a lengthy voicemail. “Hey, it’s Victoria. I’m not sure why you’re holding my ball hostage, but I’d
really like it back. It represents a special memory for my father and me, and I know you know that.
Look, we had a lot of good times together, and I’m hopeful that throwing all my belongings onto the
front lawn was therapeutic for you. I still have grass in my jeans and I’m looking for replacement
frames for the photos you broke. I didn’t want to end things this horribly, Owen. I’m not sure why
you’re acting like this, but it hurts after everything we shared. Okay, I’ll stop rambling now. Can I just
please come by to get that ball? Thanks.”
I cut the call. I wasn’t expecting to get so emotional over it, but I haven’t really given myself any
time to mourn the loss of our relationship. It fell apart somewhere along the road, but for a long time I
thought he was my forever. I thought he was my future. I thought he’d father my children and we’d ride
off into the sunset toward our happily ever after.
But we didn’t, and now he’s holding onto the most important possession I own, and he won’t even
get back to me to tell me why or what I can do to get it back.
I decide to just head to bed. I’m emotional, and I’m a little exhausted, and I keep hopping from one
thing to another but I just feel lonely and sad.
It’s early, but I’m in the middle of a good, spicy series about a hot baseball player, so I decide to
spend a little time reading before I call it a night. Maybe it’ll be enough to distract me from the mess
my life has suddenly become.
I’m dead wrong about that. The worst of it all is that I keep picturing the hero in the book as Travis
Woods, and I can’t focus on the book.
I keep thinking about yesterday when he picked Harper up after school and he wouldn’t even look
at me. I spent the entire day working myself up to seeing him, and then he didn’t even acknowledge
me.
I wonder if his daughter noticed.
I’m making strides with her already, and we’ve only had two after school tutoring sessions so far
along with our regular daily work. She’s struggling, but she’s trying—and that’s half the battle with
kids, getting them to actually try.
I’m not sure what drives me to do it, but I open up Instagram and search his name. I click it and
peep on his profile, and there he is in all his football glory.
Every picture of him on there is somehow related to athletics, whether it’s him in his uniform or
him advertising some protein powder or my favorite, the one of him not wearing a shirt while he lifts
weights.
Scratch that.
It’s not my favorite, and it doesn’t make my thighs clench together like they seem to be doing a lot
lately.
I’m just a woman who can appreciate the male form, and he has a nice one.
Like…a really nice one.
I zoom in on his hands in another photo.
They’re strong and lean, and maybe a little rough since he uses them so much, and I wonder what
sorts of talents he has with them. What would I feel like if he brushed those fingertips across my
nipple? I try it myself and visualize that it’s him doing it.
I allow my hand to trail down my stomach and dip into my panties, and I brush my finger against
my clit before I push it inside.
I’m still looking at his picture. I’m still pretending it’s him touching me.
It feels wrong. I turn off my phone and toss it beside me, but I’m in it now. The ache is growing,
and I need a release.
The phone is off, but he’s still in my mind. I really start to go to town on myself and add in another
finger. I’m not stopping until I come, and I dip my finger in and out, pulling all the way out to spread
the moisture around my clit before pushing back in.
But the fact remains that by the time my knees clamp together as I give myself an orgasm, it’s his
hand I’m thinking about. It’s his face I’m picturing. It’s his body I wish was climbing off and settling
in warmly beside me.
Instead, as the waves of pleasure start to subside and a relaxed warmth fills my entire body, my
eyes open and I stare at the empty, cold side of the bed next to me.
I turn the other way so I’m not looking at the emptiness.
Because emptiness sure beats the reality of dealing with Travis Woods.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Yeou, — hieou.

DES CONSONNES

Les seules consonnes dont la prononciation diffère de la syntaxe

française sont le g et l’i consonne. Les Provençaux prononcent ces
lettres mouillées comme les Italiens. Il en est de même du ch; mais il
est impossible de donner cette prononciation, à un homme qui n’a
jamais entendu parler un Provençal ou un Italien, par de simples
caractères; il ne connaîtra pas la façon de prononcer ces lettres, en
plaçant un d devant le g, ni un t devant ch. Il faut, pour le mettre au
fait, l’inviter à prononcer ces lettres très lentement, comme on le fait
en français; qu’il observe le mouvement de la langue, et nous lui
ferons sentir la différence. Le Français, pour prononcer le g ou le j,
porte le bout de la langue au palais, à peu près à la racine des dents
de la mâchoire supérieure. Le Provençal et l’Italien poussent le bout
de la langue jusqu’aux dents, relèvent un peu la langue et prononcent
plus de la bouche que du gosier. Au reste, une seule fois qu’on
entende prononcer cette lettre, on en saura plus qu’avec les plus
longues explications. La même chose doit être appliquée au ch.
Il ne faut pas oublier de dire ici que, lorsqu’un mot provençal a
deux l mouillées, on prononce comme le peuple de Paris. Ainsi mouille
ou mouillée se prononce en provençal comme si l’on écrivait mouyé,
et comme ceux qui parlent mal le français prononcent l’adjectif
mouillé.

NOTE:
[101] Cette grammaire fait partie du rapport que C.-F. Achard
adressa au Comité de l’Instruction publique en l’an II de la République.

CHAPITRE II

DES ARTICLES

L’idiome provençal a deux articles: lou, le, pour le masculin, et la

pour le féminin. Au pluriel, l’article leis, qu’on prononce lei devant une
consonne, sert pour les deux genres. L’article lou et l’article la s’élident
devant un mot qui commence par une voyelle; ainsi l’on dit l’ai, l’âne,
et non pas lou ai; l’anduecho, l’andouille, et non pas la anduecho.
Les Provençaux ne changent pas leurs terminaisons dans les
déclinaisons; en cela nous ne différons pas de la langue française.
Exemple:
SINGULIER
MASCULIN FÉMININ
français provençal français provençal
Nominatif le, lou la la
Génitif doou ou
du, de la de la
dau
Datif au, aou ou au à la à la
Accusatif le, lou la la
Vocatif ô, ô ô ô
Ablatif doou ou
du, de la de la
dau

PLURIEL
MASCULIN ET FÉMININ
français provençal
Nominatif les Leis prononcez Lei
Génitif des Deis — Dei
Datif aux Eis — ei
Accusatif les Leis — Lei
Vocatif ô ô — ô
Ablatif des Deis — Dei

Tous ces mots sont monosyllabes.

CHAPITRE III
DES NOMS

Tous les noms prennent l’article devant eux, excepté les noms
propres et ceux que l’on prend indéterminément, comme députa,
administratour (député, administrateur).
La particule de remplace souvent l’article en provençal; aussi les
Provençaux font-ils beaucoup de provençalismes en parlant français,
par l’habitude qu’ils ont de leur idiome. Donnez-moi d’eau, de vin,
diront-ils, au lieu de dire: Donnez-moi de l’eau, du vin; cela vient de ce
que le Provençal dit dounas-mi d’aiguo, de vin, etc.
Il n’y a pas de règle générale pour les genres des noms; presque
tous les mots français masculins sont du même genre dans leurs
correspondants provençaux. Il y a cependant des exceptions: ainsi le
sel est masculin en français, et la saou est féminin en provençal;
l’huile est féminin, l’oli ou l’holi est masculin; le peigne se rend par la
pigno; le balai, par l’escoubo, féminin, et quelques autres de même.
Les terminaisons des noms varient beaucoup, de même que dans
le français, mais elles sont presque toujours les mêmes au pluriel et
au singulier. Ainsi chivau, cheval, fait au pluriel chivaus, et se
prononce comme au singulier. De là vient encore que les enfants
disent ici très communément, en parlant français: le chevau ou les
chevals.
Les substantifs masculins forment quelquefois des substantifs
féminins d’une terminaison différente. En général, les noms qui se
terminent par une n donnent un féminin en y ajoutant un o, qui
équivaut à notre e muet, par exemple: couquin, masculin, couquino,
féminin; landrin, masculin, landrino, féminin.
Les mots terminés en r changent cette dernière lettre en la syllabe
so: voulur, vouluso, féminin; recelur, receluso, féminin, etc...
Les mots français terminés en aire sont assez ordinairement
terminés en ari dans l’idiome provençal.
Les adjectifs sont également très variés; ils ont un rapport direct
avec ceux de la langue française. Ceux qui se terminent en é pour le
masculin et en ée pour le féminin, se rendent en provençal par la
terminaison at, ado: fortuné, fortunée; fourtunat, fourtunado.
Les adjectifs terminés par un e muet en français se terminent de
même au féminin provençal, mais au masculin ils ont un é fermé. Ainsi
invulnérable fait au masculin invulnérablé, et au féminin invulnérablo,
que l’on prononce tout comme en français.
 CHAPITRE IV
DES PRONOMS

Il y a, dans les pronoms, des observations importantes à faire sur

la différence qui existe entre le français et le provençal. Je donne
d’abord la déclinaison des pronoms personnels:

SINGULIER

Nominatif Je ou moi, Yeou.

Génitif De moi, De yeou, sans élision.
Datif A moi, A yeou ou mi, en quelques
lieux me.
Accusatif Moi, Mi ou me et yeou dans le
pléonasme.
Ablatif Par moi, Per yeou.

Il me conduisit moi-même: Mi menet yeou-même ou m’aduguet

yeou-même.

SINGULIER

Nominatif Tu, toi, Tu.

Génitif De toi, De tu.
Datif A toi, A tu, ou ti ou te.
Accusatif Toi ou te, Ti ou te.
Ablatif Par toi, Per tu.

SINGULIER

Nominatif ....... ..........

Génitif De soi, De si ou de si-même.
Datif A soi, A si, ou si ou se.
Accusatif Soi, Si ou se.
Ablatif Par soi, Per si-même.

PLURIEL

Nominatif Nous, Nautreis pour nous autres.

 Génitif De nous, De nautries.
Datif A nous, A nautreis ou nous.
Accusatif Nous, Nautries ou nous.
Ablatif Par nous, Per nautreis.

PLURIEL

Nominatif Vous, Vautreis.

Génitif De vous, De vautreis.
Datif A vous, A vautreis ou vous.
Accusatif Vous, Vautries ou vous.
Ablatif Par vous, Per vautreis.

Il vous a donné: v’a dounat. Il vous accuse: n’accuso.

Ces exemples sont faits pour faire connaître que le provençal fait
une élision de trois lettres devant un mot qui commence par une
voyelle, lorsqu’il est précédé d’un pronom pluriel. Le pronom se est le
même au pluriel qu’au singulier.

SINGULIER

Nominatif Lui, eou. Elle, ello.

Génitif De lui, d’eou. D’elle, d’ello.
Datif A lui, on eou, à eou, li; à elle, an ello ou li.
Accusatif Lui, eou ou lou. La, la.
Ablatif Par lui, per eou. Par elle, per ello.

PLURIEL

Nominatif Eux, elleis. Elles, elleis.

Génitif D’eux, d’elleis. D’elles, d’elleis.
Datif A eux, an elleis ou li. A elles, an elleis, ou li.
Accusatif Eux, elleis, leis. Elles, elleis, leis.
Ablatif Par eux, per elleis. Par elles, per elleis.

PRONOMS POSSESSIFS

Les pronoms possessifs sont mieou, tieou, sieou, nouestre,

vouestre; ils sont précédés de l’article et gouvernent les deux genres.
 Lou mieou, la mieouno.
Lou tieou, la tieouno.
Lou sieou, la sieouno.
Lou nouestre, la nouestro.
Lou vouestre, la vouestro.
Le mien, la mienne.
Le tien, la tienne.
Le sien, le leur, la sienne, la
leur.
Le, la nôtre.
Le, la vôtre.

PRONOMS DÉMONSTRATIFS

Il y a deux pronoms démonstratifs: aqueou, qui fait au féminin

aquelo, et aquestou, qui fait au féminin aquesto, c’est-à-dire celui-ci,
celle-ci; celui-là, celle-là.

PRONOMS RELATIFS

Lequel, laquelle, louquaou, laqualo, se déclinent avec l’article; qui

se traduit par qun ou par que. Ses composés sont queque, sieque,
quoi qu’il en soit; quelqu’un, quelqu’une, quauqu’un, quaouqu’uno.
Exemple: L’homme qui vint, l’home que venguet.—Ce qui me
surprend, ce que m’estouno.—Qui est là? Qun es aqui?—Qui va, qui
vient? Que va, que ven?

CHAPITRE V
DES VERBES

Le provençal a des verbes auxiliaires, des actifs et des passifs. On

appelle verbe auxiliaire celui qui sert à former les temps des autres
verbes, comme j’ai, ai; je suis, sieou.
Les verbes actifs peuvent être réduits à deux conjugaisons
principales, qui se connaissent par l’infinitif: les verbes qui se
terminent à l’infinitif en ar et ceux qui finissent en e ou en ir.
Tous les verbes en ar font le participe passé en at. Les autres le
font en it ou en ut.
Commençons par les verbes auxiliaires.

AVER
 INFINITIF
Avoir, dérivé du latin habere.

INDICATIF PRÉSENT
Ai, j’ai. Aven, nous
avons.
As, tu as. Avés, vous avez.
A, il a. An, ils ont.

IMPARFAIT
Avieou, j’avais. Avian, nous
avions.
Aviés, tu avais. Avias, vous aviez.
Avié, il avait. Avien, ils avaient.

PARFAIT

Ai agut ou aguersi, j’ai eu.

As agut ou agueres, tu as eu.
A agut ou aguet, il a eu.
Aven agut ou aguerian, nous avons
eu.
Avés agut ou aguerias, vous avez eu.
Au agut ou agueroun, ils ont eu.

PLUS-QUE-PARFAIT

Avieou agut, j’avais eu. Aviés agut, tu avais eu.

FUTUR

Aurai, j’aurai. Auren, nous aurons.

Auras, tu auras. Aurés, vous aurez.
Aura, il aura. Auran, ils auront.

IMPÉRATIF
Agues, aie, etc. Agues,
Que ague, Que aguoun,
Aguen,

SUBJONCTIF PRÉSENT
Que agui, que j’aie. Que aguen, que nous
ayons.
Que agues, que tu aies. Que agués, que vous
ayez.
Que ague, qu’il ait. Que aguoun, qu’ils aient.

IMPARFAIT

Aguessi ou aurieou, que j’eusse ou j’aurais.

Aguesses ou auriés, que tu eusses ou tu aurais.
Aguessoun ou aurien, qu’il eût ou il aurait.

PARFAIT

Que agui que j’aie. Aguen agut, que nous

agut, ayons.
Agués agut, que tu aies. Agusé agut, que vous
ayez.
Aguet agut, qu’il ait. Aguon agut, qu’ils aient.

PLUS-QUE-PARFAIT

Aguessi ou aurieou agut, etc. que j’eusse ou j’aurai eu, etc.

FUTUR
Aurai agut, etc. j’aurais eu, etc.

INFINITIF PRÉSENT

Aver, avoir.

PARFAIT

Aver agut, avoir eu.

GÉRONDIF

Per aver, à avoir.

PARTICIPE PRÉSENT

Ayent, ayant.

PARTICIPE PASSÉ
 Ayent agut, ayant eu.

LE VERBE ÊTRE

INDICATIF PRÉSENT
Sieou. Sian.
Siés. Sias.
Es. Soun.

IMPARFAIT
Eri. Erian.
Eres. Erias.
Ero. Eroun.

PARFAIT

Sieou estat. Fouguet.

Sies estat. Fouguerian.
ou Fougueri. Fouguerias.
Fougueres. Fougueroun.

PLUS-QUE-PARFAIT
Eri estat, eres estat.
FUTUR
Sarai. Saren.
Saras. Sarès.
Sara. Saran.

IMPÉRATIF

Siegues. Siegués.
Siegue. Siégoun.
Sieguen.

SUBJONCTIF PRÉSENT

Que siegui. Que sieguen.

Que siegues. Que siegués.
Que siegue. Que siegoun.
 IMPARFAIT

Fouguessi. Fouguesses.
Fouguesse. Fouguessian.
Fouguessias. Fouguessioun.
ou Sarieou. Sariès.
Sarié. Sarian.
Sarias. Sarèn.

PARFAIT

Que siegui estat. Siegues estat, etc.

PLUS-QUE-PARFAIT
Fouguessi estat ou Sarieou estat, etc.

FUTUR

Sarai estat Saras estat, etc.

INFINITIF PRÉSENT
Estre ou esse.

PARFAIT
Estre estat.

On voit que l’auxiliaire aver n’entre pas dans la conjugaison

provençale du verbe estre. C’est ce qui nous fait entendre le
provençalisme impardonnable: Je suis été, pour dire: J’ai été.

TABLEAU DES CONJUGAISONS DES VERBES ACTIFS

1re Conjugaison 2e Conjugaison

Verbe Adoûrar Verbe Estendre

INDICATIF PRÉSENT

Adôri. Adourân. Estêndi. Estênden.

Adôres. Adoûras. Estêndes. Estêndes.
Adôro. Adôrun. Estende. Estêndoun.

IMPARFAIT
 Adourâvi. Adourâviau. Estendieou. Estendian.
Adourâvis. Adourâvias. Estendies. Estendias.
Adourâvo. Adourâvoun. Estendié. Estendiau.

PARFAIT

Ai adourat. As adourat, etc. Ai estendut. Etc...

ou Adourèri. Adourerian. ou Estenderi. Estenderian.
Adourères. Adourerias. Estenderes. Estenderias.
Adoûret. Adoureroun. Estendet. Estenderoun.

PLUS-QUE-PARFAIT

Avieou adourat, Avieou estendut,

Aviès adourat, etc. Aviès estendut, etc.

FUTUR

Adourarai. Adouraren. Estendrai. Estendran.

Adouraras. Adourarés. Estendras., Estendrés.
Adourara. Adouraran. Estendra. Estendran.

IMPÉRATIF

Adoro. Estende.
Qu’adôro. Qu’estende.
Adouren. Estenden.
Adouras. Estendés.
Qu’adoroun. Qu’estendoun.

SUBJONCTIF PRÉSENT

Qu’adori. Qu’adouren. Qu’estendi. Qu’estendessian.

Qu’adorés. Qu’adourés. Qu’estendes. Qu’estendés.
Qu’adore. Qu’adoroun. Qu’estende. Qu’estendoun.

IMPARFAIT

Qu’adouressi, Qu’adouressian, Qu’estendessi, Qu’estendessian,

Qu’adouresses, Qu’adouressias, Qu’estendesses, Qu’estendessias,
 Qu’adouresse, Qu’adouressoun, Qu’estendesse, Qu’estendessoun,
ou Qu’adourarieou, Qu’adourarian, ou Qu’estendrieou, Qu’estendarian,
Qu’adourariés, Qu’adourarias, Qu’estendariés, Qu’estendarias,
Qu’adourarié, Qu’adourarien, Qu’estendarié, Qu’estendarien.

PASSÉ

Que agui adourat, etc. Que agui estendut, etc.

PLUS-QUE-PARFAIT

Que aguessi adourat, etc. Que aguessi estendut, etc.

ou Aurieou adourat, etc. ou Aurieou estendut, etc.

FUTUR

Aurai adourat, etc. Aurai estendut, etc.

INFINITIF PRÉSENT

Adourar, Estendre.

PASSÉ

Aver adourat, Aver estendut.

PARTICIPE PRÉSENT

Adourant, Estendent.

Le passif se conjugue par l’auxiliaire estre en ajoutant le participe

passif adourat, estendut, etc... Sieou adourat, sieou estendut, etc...
On a vu que la seule différence de terminaison des verbes se
trouve dans l’imparfait, où les verbes qui ont l’infinitif en ar font ce
temps en avi et ceux qui ont une autre terminaison font l’imparfait en
ieou. D’après cela, il est facile de connaître les conjugaisons
provençales. Il est bien quelques verbes irréguliers; mais, comme ils
ont un rapport direct avec leurs correspondants français, il est inutile
d’en faire mention ici.
 SECONDE PARTIE

CHAPITRE PREMIER

La synthèse de la langue provençale a tant de rapports avec la

française qu’il n’y a point de règles à donner, mais seulement des
observations à présenter sur les tournures des phrases.

DES ARTICLES

On met quelquefois l’article avant l’adjectif au lieu de le mettre

avant le substantif. C’est une chose qui nous est commune avec les
Grecs, et certainement c’est d’eux que nous tenons cette façon de
nous exprimer: lou mieou béou, mon beau; lou mieou bel enfant, mon
bel enfant; lou sieou fraire, son frère, etc.

DES NOMS

J’ai dit plus haut que les noms ne changeaient pas de terminaison
dans les nombres et qu’il était même reçu de ne pas ajouter l’s final
pour désigner le pluriel, à moins que le mot suivant ne commence par
une voyelle. Mais cette règle n’est pas encore générale; on dit bien
leis ais, prononcez lei zai; mais on ne dit pas les ais avien en
prononçant lei-zai zavien, mais lei-zai-avien; en sorte qu’il faut
nécessairement entendre parler le provençal ou l’écrire comme on le
parle. C’est un défaut de la langue, défaut qui ne doit pas surprendre
ceux qui savent que les idiomes vulgaires n’ont pas de règles bien
certaines, et que l’usage est la première de ces règles. Les
Provençaux ne connaissent pas de mot qui forme seul un comparatif.
C’est une faute de dire en provençal: milhour que l’autre, piegi que
vous: meilleur que vous, pire que vous; il faut dire plus milhour, plus
piegi, ce qui, en français, serait un pléonasme détestable.

CHAPITRE II

DES PRONOMS
 Les pronoms personnels se sous-entendent toujours devant les
verbes, comme on l’a vu dans les conjugaisons que j’ai placées en
leur lieu. Ainsi on dit vendrai, je viendrai; esveray, il est vrai, etc.
Lorsqu’on parle de plusieurs personnes, on emploie toujours le
pronom soun, sa, comme s’il ne s’agissait que d’une seule: ils
viennent de leur maison de campagne, venoun de sa bastido.
De même, l’on dit pour les deux nombres: li ai dounat, je lui ai ou je
leur ai donné; li digueri, je lui ou je leur ai dit, etc.
Lorsqu’on parle indéterminément de quelque chose, on emploie la
particule va au lieu de l’article lou, le, etc. Exemple: Le croyez-vous?
Va crésez? ou va créseti? Je le ferai, va farai. Mais, s’il était question
d’une personne, on dirait: lou veiray, je le verrai.
L’adverbe relatif y, qui signifie en cet endroit-là, s’exprime en
provençal par li: Veux-tu y aller? Li voues anar? J’(y) irai, l’anaraï;
passes-y, passos-li; prends-y garde, pren li gardo.
Le relatif qui s’exprime par qun toutes les fois qu’il y a
interrogation: Qun piquo? Qui frappe? Mais, dans le cours d’une
phrase, il se rend par le mot que: aqueou que douerme, celui qui dort;
lou cavaou ou lou chivaou que vendra, le cheval qui viendra.

CHAPITRE III

DES VERBES

Le nominatif précède toujours le verbe; cependant j’ai souvent

entendu les gens de la campagne, et surtout les enfants, dire: a dich
moun paire, pour moun paire a dich.
Le verbe Estre, Être, s’emploie ordinairement comme gouvernant
l’accusatif si je fusse (sic) en leur place, se fouguessi elleis. On dit
aussi se fougueissi d’elleis en sous-entendant en plaço.
Les infinitifs forment tout autant de noms substantifs: on dit lou
proumenar pour la proumenado, lou dourmir pour lou souen, etc... Il
semble même que cette façon d’exprimer les choses est plus
énergique.
 Il est d’usage encore d’employer le pronom si, se à la première
personne du pluriel: nous nous reverrons, si vereins; allons-nous-en,
s’en anan ou Enanen s’en.
On dit aussi: sau pas ce que si fa, il ne sait pas ce qu’il fait; quelle
heure est-il? quant soun d’houro? Ce qui signifie littéralement:
combien est-il d’heures?
Je ne dirai rien des adverbes et des prépositions, mais il y aurait
encore beaucoup de choses à dire sur les tournures des phrases. J’ai
cru qu’il ne serait pas hors de propos de donner une courte notice de
la poésie provençale et de citer quelques morceaux qui n’ont pas été
livrés à l’impression.
L’auteur (comme exemple) donne un quatrain de Toussaint Gros,
sur la Mort; il cite la Bourrido deis Dious, de Germain, et un extrait du
Nouveau Lutrin, par d’Arvieux.
Les nombreux exemples que nous avons donnés de la poésie
provençale nous dispensent de citer dans cet ouvrage des extraits,
forcément incomplets et qui n’ajouteraient rien à la beauté de la
langue. Mais ce que nous avons cru nécessaire de ne pas omettre,
comme nous l’avons dit précédemment, c’est un aperçu grammatical
du Provençal tel qu’on l’écrit et qu’on le parle aujourd’hui, d’après la
méthode de la nouvelle école félibréenne, en parallèle avec la
grammaire d’Achard, qui date des premières années du siècle dernier.
Le lecteur pourra, par lui-même, constater les différences qui existent
entre les deux orthographes et se faire une opinion, au point de vue
linguistique et orthographique, sur les œuvres qui ont précédé le
mouvement félibréen et celles qui l’ont suivi.

DIFFÉRENCES LINGUISTIQUES ET ORTHOGRAPHIQUES

ENTRE LE PROVENÇAL PARLÉ ET ÉCRIT AVANT LA RÉVOLUTION ET
LE PROVENÇAL DE NOS JOURS, SELON L’ECOLE FÉLIBRÉENNE,
D’APRÈS L’OUVRAGE DU FRÈRE SAVINIEN ET DOM XAVIER DE
FOURVIÈRES
 ALPHABET PROVENÇAL USITÉ DE NOS JOURS[102]

L’alphabet provençal aujourd’hui en usage se compose de vingt-

trois lettres; l’y et l’x supprimés formaient la vingt-quatrième et la vingt-
cinquième avant la réforme orthographique.
A garde le son qu’il a en français; B également, mais ne se
prononce pas à la fin des mots, comme plumb, plomb.
C ne diffère de la prononciation française que lorsqu’il est suivi
d’un h. Ainsi le mot chien s’écrit chin, et se prononce tsin. Cependant
cette prononciation est plutôt vauclusienne que marseillaise. A
Marseille, en effet, on écrit et on prononce chin.
Le D, comme en français. Ainsi que le b, il ne se prononce pas à la
fin des mots: verd, vert.
L’E, dans la grammaire d’Achard, ne devait pas, suivant l’usage
observé jusqu’à la Révolution, être accentué; aujourd’hui, sans accent
ou avec un accent aigu, il se prononce comme l’e ouvert français.
Ainsi devé, devoir, teté, sein, sonnent comme cité, vérité.
L’E est ouvert s’il est suivi d’une consonne, comme dans terro,
terre, et encore s’il est surmonté d’un accent grave, comme dans
venguè, il vint. Il est faible à la fin des mots: te, toi; fort dans les
monosyllabes: vese, je vois.
F, pour efo, comme en français.
G, placé devant les voyelles a, o, u, est dur, comme dans goi,
boiteux; gau, coq; degun, personne; mais, devant un e ou un i, il se
prononce comme le z italien: soit gibous, bossu, que l’on prononce
dzibous. Toutefois, cette dernière prononciation n’est pas usitée dans
les Bouches-du-Rhône, où l’on continue à dire gibous, comme s’il était
écrit djibous.
H, en provençal acho, n’est aspirée que dans quelques
interjections: ho! ha! hoù! hoi! hèi! On l’emploie également pour rendre
le son ch comme dans charpa, gronder, et remplacer l’ancienne forme
lh pour séparer deux voyelles, ainsi: famiho, famille; abiho, abeille;
Marsiho, Marseille.
I se prononce comme en français: camiso, chemise; mais, dans les
monosyllabes im et in, il prend en provençal la prononciation latine;
simplo, simple, ansin, ainsi; cinsaire, priseur; timbre, timbre.
 Il y a aussi l’i fort et l’i faible: pali, pâlir; pàli, dois.
Le J devant l’e et l’i se prononce comme le g ou le z dans le
provençal rhodanien: jamai, pour dzamai, jamais; genesto, dzenesto,
genêt. A Marseille, on prononce jamai, ginesto.
K est peu ou pas usité en provençal, on le remplace généralement
par c, qu et ch, suivant les cas.
L ou élo, comme en français; deux l précédées de la voyelle i ne se
prononcent pas. Ainsi: mouillé se prononce, en provençal, mouyé.
M ou émo, comme en français. Cette lettre équivaut à l’n devant un
b ou un p.
N ou éno, comme en français.
O, comme en français dans le corps des mots, mais remplace l’e
français à la fin de quelques-uns. Exemple: Prouvenco, Provence; la
peissounièro, la poissonnière.
P. En provençal, la forme ph est remplacée par f: farmacian,
pharmacien.
Q conserve le son du k français: que, que; quitran, goudron.
R ou ero se prononce comme en français.
S ou esso également. Deux s en provençal remplacent l’x français.
Ainsi Maximin se prononce et s’écrit: Meissemin; exemple, eissèmple.
T ou té conserve toujours en provençal le son dur, même lorsqu’il
précède un i suivi d’une voyelle: carretoun, petite charrette;
conventialo, religieuse; t dans la fin des mots ne se prononce pas:
nougat, nougat.
U ne se prononce pas exactement comme en français. Dans le
mot un, on le fait sonner comme dans une, tandis qu’en français il se
change en la diphtongue eun. Dans le cas où l’u est précédé des
voyelles a, e, ou d’un o accentué, il se prononce comme en italien;
exemple: oustaù, maison, que l’on prononce oustaou suivant
l’ancienne orthographe; néu, neige, ne-ou, pôu, pour poou, sont dans
le même cas.
V, vé, se prononce comme en français ainsi que le z, izido.

DIPHTONGUES
 Les diphtongues servent à unir deux voyelles ne formant qu’une
syllabe.
Les cinq voyelles forment en provençal plusieurs diphtongues;
ainsi:
 Ai, qui se prononce: aï.
Ei, — — eï.
Oi, — — oï.
Au, — — aou.
Eu, — — èou.

Exemples:
Aigo, eau, se prononce d’une seule émission: aïgo.
Rèi, roi, — — rèï.
Galoi, joyeux, — — galoï.

Avant la réforme orthographique, ces diphtongues s’écrivaient

comme on les prononçait.
Comme triphtongues, les cinq voyelles donnent:
Iau, dans niau, éclair.
Iai, — biais, manière de faire.
Ièi, — pièi, puis.

Ces triphtongues se prononcent également par un simple son.

L’ACCENT TONIQUE

L’accent tonique est la base de la prononciation du provençal.

Dans les mots terminés par e ou par o, il doit se porter sur la
pénultième, ainsi: capello, chapelle, se prononce capélo; campana,
cloche, campàno; il se porte sur toute syllabe accentuée: armàri,
armoire.
Dans les mots terminés par a et i, il se porte sur la dernière
syllabe: verita, vérité; sournaru, sournois; durbi, ouvrir. Mais, dans le
cas où la dernière syllabe terminée en i est précédée d’une syllabe
qui porte un accent, l’i devient muet, comme dans barri, rempart.
Si le mot est terminé par une consonne, on appuie plus fortement
sur la dernière syllabe: auceloun, petit oiseau.
Dans les diphtongues, on doit appuyer sur la première voyelle:
l’ai, l’âne, se prononce àï.
 Dans le dialecte marseillais, la prononciation est souvent
différente de celle du rhodanien. Ainsi la voyelle o se change
souvent en oue; exemples:
Font, fontaine, fait fouent.
Cor, cœur, — couer.
Colo, colline, — coueli.

U se change en ue quelquefois, comme dans: adurre, apporter,

aduerre.
Io se change en ue: fio, feu, fait fue; agrioto, cerise, fait agrueto.
Ioù fait uou: bioù, bœuf, buou; aurioù, maquereau, auruou.
Ioun se change en ien: nacioun, nation, fait nacien; religioun,
religion, religien; incarnacioun, incarnation, incarnacien.

DE L’ARTICLE

Voici le tableau des articles en provençal singulier, en français et

en provençal pluriel:
Lou, la, — le, la, — li, les,
Doù, de la, — du, de la, — di, des,
Au, à la, — au, à la, — i, aux,
De, — du, de la, — de, des.

Dans le dialecte marseillais, li, di, i font lei, dei, ei, au singulier, et
leis, deis, eis, au pluriel.
L’article, en provençal, s’emploie comme en français devant les
noms communs. Il y a exception dans les proverbes, dans les
énumérations et quand des noms se trouvent liés à certains verbes.
On l’emploie également devant les noms propres des personnes
généralement connues, et dans un sens familier: la Marietto, la
petite Marie; devant le nom d’un personnage jouissant d’une
certaine célébrité, il trouve aussi son emploi: Victor Gélu es lou
Bérengier de Marsiho, Victor Gélu est le Bérenger de Marseille.