Alone on Earth (Signal Bend Series Volume 4)By: Susan Fanetti
The Signal Bend Series Book Four
Susan Fanetti has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this book under the Copyright,
Design and Patents Act 1988.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s
imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Dedicated with everlasting love and devotion to my dear friends in the Freak Circle. You enrich my life
Extra hugs to Jess, Sarah, and Elena, for always reading and giving it to me straight.
All that and a cherry on top for Shannon, my daily writing partner, who sees my words, and my mind, in
their roughest state, and yet still seems to love them and me. Love you back, my friend.
And to those who’ve read my fan fiction—there’s a little nod in this one to my fanfic life, my training
ground for Signal Bend and anything that might come after it.
Finally, to Anthony, who totally “covered” my ass. You rock!
we shall always be alone,
we shall always be you and I
alone on earth,
to start our life!
Pablo Neruda, “Always”
Blinding bright light tore Riley out of deep sleep, like someone had ripped the roof off her dream. She
groaned and rolled over, tucking deeper into her comforter and grabbing for the shelter of one of her big,
The pillow was yanked away. She clapped her empty hands to her face instead.
“Nope! Nope, nope, nope! Time to bounce that tiny hiney right out of bed!”
Trevor? What the fuck was Trevor doing in her bedroom? And why the fuck had he turned on all the
Riley peered between her fingers and saw, fuzzy from the obscured view and her sleep-thick eyes,
Trevor Ramirez, her personal trainer and occasional DVD-and-junk-food heartbreak buddy, standing at the
side of her bed, wearing black lycra running pants and a bright yellow Under Armour baselayer top. Pretty
much every muscle on his lean, cut frame showed—among other things. Which was, she was sure, the
He was standing there with his hand on his popped hip, looking sassy.
Riley wasn’t feeling sassy. Riley was feeling stabby. “What the fuck are you doing here? In my
bedroom? Before fucking dawn?”
“Girl, you get the salty talk going when you’re cranky! What would the tabloids say if they heard you
now? ‘Riley Chase, America’s Sweetheart, Abuses the Help.’ We got to get your workout in early today—
you’re flying out to Petticoat Junction at noon, remember? And who knows how you’ll get a workout in out
there. Unless cow-tipping is cardio.” He popped the other hip. “I should look that up!”
Riley rolled to her stomach and pulled another pillow over her head. Trevor smacked her ass. “Up, up,
up, Thumbelina! Wasting daylight!”
She lifted the pillow and scowled at him. “Daylight hasn’t even started yet, moron. Fuck off.”
“Oh, snap! Better be nice to the Trevor, darling. Or he’ll take all the good stuff off your travel menu!”
He sashayed out of her room, grabbing a bottom corner of her comforter on his way past and pulling it
off the bed, leaving her lying there in nothing but her underwear and an old, tight, belly-baring t-shirt.
“Cute panties! Very Strawberry Shortcake! Kitchen in five, gorgeous!”
When Riley came to the kitchen about fifteen minutes later, she found Trevor sitting at the island and
Marta, her housekeeper, emptying the dishwasher. Everybody was up and at ‘em crazy early this morning, it
seemed. She greeted Marta with a kiss on the cheek, and then sat down next to Trevor. He handed her a
“Here, darling. Potassium first. Good for the muscles.”
Like she hadn’t heard that and all of his other platitudes about food and fitness five days a week for the
past four years. Sometimes seven days a week, when she had to bare some skin for a scene, or if an episode
was especially athletic.
She snatched the banana out of his hand and pulled the peel back. “I remember when I ate food for
breakfast that required teeth. I vaguely remember that.”
“Oh, cry me a river, cupcake. You want bacon for breakfast, go right ahead. And you can give up this