Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
More like red-hot lust.
When we finish the round—with Drew winning and the Valentines coming in second—my sister marches over to Axel.
Hazel
* * *
This man. I have never known a creature, real or fictional, to inflame me so much. I tap Axel on the shoulder. “We need to talk.”
He arches a cocky brow because of course his eyebrows are cocky. Every single body part is, I bet.
“Sweetheart, I’m not sure you can talk,” he drawls. “You just want to argue.”
“Like you don’t,” I hiss.
“I can be civil. Want me to show you?”
“I can be civil too,” I whisper, but I won’t if I stay here with him while he winds me up in front of everyone. That’s what he does. Pushes all my buttons.
Grabbing his arm — his too-strong, too muscular arm, damn him — I march him into the game room. I stop at an ACDC pinball machine, then wheel around and meet his eyes. He returns my stare with a smirk. A fucking smirk.
Why is he like this? Can’t he just get over what happened? I take a deep breath, try to let it settle me. “Look, Huxley. I don’t like this any more than you do.”
“Like what?” He asks, feigning innocence.
I sigh, aggrieved. Then point from him to me, then out to them. “The fact that you and I have to hang out because my sister’s in love with your friend, who, by the way is an amazing guy.”
“He is. Milo’s good people,” Axel says warmly.
That’s why I have to try to bury the hatchet. But it’s big and it’s thick. “If it were up to me, we’d never see each other again, but clearly we have to. So, we need to find a way to get along,” I say diplomatically.
His lips twitch. “You really want that?”
No. But I don’t want my latent irritation over every single thing that went wrong when we tried to work together to send me over the edge. “Yes. Can we just please put the past behind us?”
He hums, like he’s considering it. “So, you truly want to get along, Valentine?”
I burn inside. When his bedroom eyes roam up and down my body, I burn hot.
Hotter still when he steps closer to me.
“I do want to,” I say, breath catching dangerously, pulse surging.
“Then I have some good ideas,” he says, and the way I react to his smoky voice is entirely unfair.
Must. Resist. At. All. Costs.
Veronica
* * *
With Hazel off in the game room, I spin around and head straight for Ellie and Bryan at the bar.
“So, that’s what he said,” Bryan remarks as I near them.
Ellie slugs his shoulder playfully. “And then? What did you say?” She’s on the edge of her seat.
Bryan takes his time answering, giving a half smile, maybe a little resigned. “Well, it’s complicated.”
They stop talking when I arrive. I tilt my head, like c’mon. “It was just getting good. Are you freezing me out?”
Bryan laughs, then shakes his head. “No. It’s just that it’s really complicated.”
I grab a stool and park my chin in my hand. “I’m listening.”
“So, Sebastian Lowe hired my company . . .”
As Bryan unravels more of the story, my breath hitches.
“Complicated barely scratches the surface,” I say, a little amazed and pretty damn intrigued to hear how their story plays out.
“Maybe you could write the rest of it, Ellie,” Bryan offers.
Ellie’s ventured down the scriptwriting path after all, trying her hand at writing TV shows. Future-proofing against the inevitable, she says. At Bryan’s suggestion, her eyes spark. “Not a bad idea. Thanks so much for giving me the rights in advance to your sexy tale,” she says, adding a wink.
“Did I say it was sexy?” Bryan smiles.
Ellie laughs. “No. I figured that part out on my own.”
Milo’s brother just smiles, then turns the tables on her. “And what about you and your guy?”
Ellie sighs, a little wistful. As she updates him, I listen, grateful my love life isn’t complicated anymore.
It’s simply wonderful.
One morning, a little later that summer, I settle in at the table. I work from home, with my dog and my cat, and I don’t usually wear any pants.
This is the life—writing my column and putting together orders for Date Night for One, curating a delicious box of treats for the ladies who want a little help from a battery-operated friend.
Business is thriving, and I don’t miss publishing. Pleasure is where my heart lies.
But it also lies with my man and our dogs.
When I finish working in the evening, I put on a sundress, say goodbye to the cat, and leash up StudMuffin. After I head down the stairs, I grab my custom bike from the storage closet in our building—Milo moved in with me months ago.
Then I wheel my ride to the sidewalk and set my dog in the tiny bike seat Milo built for him. StudMuffin used to hate bikes, but living with a bike lover has turned him around. Well, my little man doesn’t love bikes per se. But he sure does love riding in the front and checking out the city as we go. When my blond babe is buckled in, I strap on his little helmet, then kiss his wet nose.