scene? I know we joked, but that kiss, our kiss, it really did help. I want you to be the first reader.”
“I don’t…” When her voice trailed off, he looked over his shoulder at her.
“Sure, you do. It doesn’t suck. Well, if it does, you can tell me. We can talk about it while we do all those wedding errands together and—”
“Nick.” She crossed her arms, and he could practically hear those heels digging into the wood. “You can’t just decide I’m going to read your book and help you run wedding errands and…and… be here for you.”
He flinched at the tone. “You’re right, that was presumptuous. I’ll…pay you?” It came out as a question, and her raised eyebrow was all the answer he needed.
“I already have a job, Nick.”
“Okay, bad idea. But I’m excited and…” He wanted her to be, too. “What’s wrong?”
She arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly at his chest. “Put a shirt on.”
He obliged, snagging a T-shirt off the back of the nearest chair and yanking it over his head. She didn’t look any happier when he popped out. “You don’t want me to stay,” he said, stating the über-obvious.
“I don’t want you to…” She held up her hands as if she could physically stave him off. “I don’t want you to take charge of me.”
“We don’t have to kiss again.” Except they would. And often. Soon, even, if he had anything to say about it. “Or eat ice cream,” he added, hoping for some levity.
“We won’t…we can’t…I can’t.” She swiped some hair off her face in frustration. “Not that I don’t want to.”
There. Now they were talking. “Then, good. We’re good. I’ll work when you’re working, and when we’re free, we’ll”— do everything— “take care of that wedding sh…stuff.” As if he could prove that was true, he glanced around, looking for the paper Misty said she’d leave. “Hang on, let me find her list.”
He didn’t see it and vaguely recalled her saying it would be in the living area, so he held up a hand as if that would freeze Willow in place. “Wait here. Don’t move.”
“You’re big on giving orders.”
“Military training.”
“I thought you took orders in the military.”
He smiled. “If I have to. Hang on.” He slipped by her and went into the living room looking for Misty’s list or folder. He hardly remembered what he’d agreed to the night before. At that point, he was up four thousand words and on a roll like he’d never been on before.
Telling the story—retelling it, actually, and changing the facts so they mirrored what he’d wanted to happen—was an absolute high. He spied a piece of paper folded in half on the kitchen pass-through counter and snagged it, opening it to read the list.
Leaving the F&B entirely up to you. RD & CP (go crazy, it’s on Steven), WP brunch, hd’s & recpt. dinner. Cake. DA brunch. All themed, whatever you and W work out. Will call you and be back soon w/ mf!! xo
Huh? The only thing he understood was “cake.” Thank God for Willow. Heading back to the room, he glanced at the paper, looking up when he reached the doorway. He opened his mouth to joke about how weddings had more acronyms than the military, but froze at the sight of her reading his laptop.
She was leaning over to get closer to the screen, bracing her hands on the desk, and he was torn between the minor thrill of watching someone actually read what he’d written and the major thrill of checking out her backside in a very sexy pose.
Her hips were round, her legs crossed as she tapped one shoe on the floor. Even the slope of her back and the way her hair tumbled over her shoulders turned him on. Whatever magic, denial, or deal she’d made with the devil to get in shape had worked.
She had to see how awesome this month could be. But he didn’t want to interrupt her reading, so he stepped back, and instantly, she turned.
He’d almost forgotten what it was like to hear someone behind you that
“I don’t…” When her voice trailed off, he looked over his shoulder at her.
“Sure, you do. It doesn’t suck. Well, if it does, you can tell me. We can talk about it while we do all those wedding errands together and—”
“Nick.” She crossed her arms, and he could practically hear those heels digging into the wood. “You can’t just decide I’m going to read your book and help you run wedding errands and…and… be here for you.”
He flinched at the tone. “You’re right, that was presumptuous. I’ll…pay you?” It came out as a question, and her raised eyebrow was all the answer he needed.
“I already have a job, Nick.”
“Okay, bad idea. But I’m excited and…” He wanted her to be, too. “What’s wrong?”
She arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly at his chest. “Put a shirt on.”
He obliged, snagging a T-shirt off the back of the nearest chair and yanking it over his head. She didn’t look any happier when he popped out. “You don’t want me to stay,” he said, stating the über-obvious.
“I don’t want you to…” She held up her hands as if she could physically stave him off. “I don’t want you to take charge of me.”
“We don’t have to kiss again.” Except they would. And often. Soon, even, if he had anything to say about it. “Or eat ice cream,” he added, hoping for some levity.
“We won’t…we can’t…I can’t.” She swiped some hair off her face in frustration. “Not that I don’t want to.”
There. Now they were talking. “Then, good. We’re good. I’ll work when you’re working, and when we’re free, we’ll”— do everything— “take care of that wedding sh…stuff.” As if he could prove that was true, he glanced around, looking for the paper Misty said she’d leave. “Hang on, let me find her list.”
He didn’t see it and vaguely recalled her saying it would be in the living area, so he held up a hand as if that would freeze Willow in place. “Wait here. Don’t move.”
“You’re big on giving orders.”
“Military training.”
“I thought you took orders in the military.”
He smiled. “If I have to. Hang on.” He slipped by her and went into the living room looking for Misty’s list or folder. He hardly remembered what he’d agreed to the night before. At that point, he was up four thousand words and on a roll like he’d never been on before.
Telling the story—retelling it, actually, and changing the facts so they mirrored what he’d wanted to happen—was an absolute high. He spied a piece of paper folded in half on the kitchen pass-through counter and snagged it, opening it to read the list.
Leaving the F&B entirely up to you. RD & CP (go crazy, it’s on Steven), WP brunch, hd’s & recpt. dinner. Cake. DA brunch. All themed, whatever you and W work out. Will call you and be back soon w/ mf!! xo
Huh? The only thing he understood was “cake.” Thank God for Willow. Heading back to the room, he glanced at the paper, looking up when he reached the doorway. He opened his mouth to joke about how weddings had more acronyms than the military, but froze at the sight of her reading his laptop.
She was leaning over to get closer to the screen, bracing her hands on the desk, and he was torn between the minor thrill of watching someone actually read what he’d written and the major thrill of checking out her backside in a very sexy pose.
Her hips were round, her legs crossed as she tapped one shoe on the floor. Even the slope of her back and the way her hair tumbled over her shoulders turned him on. Whatever magic, denial, or deal she’d made with the devil to get in shape had worked.
She had to see how awesome this month could be. But he didn’t want to interrupt her reading, so he stepped back, and instantly, she turned.
He’d almost forgotten what it was like to hear someone behind you that
Similar Books
