Chapter One
There was no way around it. Catching Mr. Right was damn hard work. Shellie had worn all different styles of clothes, fluttered her eyes, sipped sophisticated looking drinks, and still, nada.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. Not nada-nada, there had been plenty of Mr. Wrongs. Lord have mercy, but there had been plenty of Mr. Wrongs. She shuddered. Sorry to the boyfriends and one night stands of her past, but dull and arrogant dropped her pulse to dang near dead levels.
Her mother and her ridiculous ideas about flirting to catch the right kind of man—AKA, wealthy—was putting Shellie on a fast track to becoming the next weird cat lady on her block. That was a serious problem for Shellie. She didn’t like cats. Honestly, she wasn’t a fan of anything that pissed and shit on her carpet. There’d been only one thing she could do. Get out of town to catch a breather. She turned to the one person she knew in all the world who could revive her. Riley Hamilton.
Riley handed her a glass of iced tea and sank into the rocking chair next to her. “What are you thinking so hard about?”
She smiled. “My carpet.”
“Your what?”
“Never mind.”
Ah, Riley Hamilton. In elementary school he’d put grasshoppers in her Hello Kitty backpack. In Jr. High he’d constantly untied her hair ribbons. In Sr. High, he’d kissed her. Just once. She sighed as memories washed over. She’d been shocked at the moment and froze. He’d pulled away immediately, muttering an apology. Later she glowed, then she was weirded out by it. They did what any good friends would do—they ignored the moment and fell back into their routine. Looking back, she still found that kiss a bit…weird.
It’d been Riley. They had no business kissing, but still, of the handful of men who had ever kissed her, Riley’s was the only one who could make her toes curl by the memory. And it had just barely been a kiss. Not even a kiss, really. A peck. A whisper of lips over one another.
She swirled the ice around in her glass and sighed. “I was thinking about my mom.”
He pulled in a slow breath, unsure likely, on how to comment. It was a common side-effect when speaking of her mom. He rocked in his chair and tapped his glass against the wooden arm rest. “Dangerous territory.”
She smiled, appreciative of his honesty. “No kidding.”
“Are you getting homesick?”
She shook her head. “No. I was thinking about dating and how I follow her advice.” A laugh, hollow to her own ears, slipped over her tongue. “I guess I don’t know what to do with myself now.”
Riley shrugged. “Do what you want. You’re better than what your mom lets you believe.”
“Thank you.” She warmed over at that. When the idea of a breather struck her, she knew Riley was the man to find. He’d been the one who’d showed her how to sneak out at night and how to spend the day on the river bank instead of the mall where her mom believed she was. Taught her how to “borrow” the car and top it back off with gas after she was finished.
Shellie was in desperate need of some of that bad-Riley-behavior. She couldn’t push her mom off forever, not if Shellie wanted to keep her sanity. And honestly, married to some stuff shirt banging his secretary would be a hell of a lot easier than sticking it out with Mom and her never-ending list of Shellie Faults.
Sit up, dear.
What are you wearing? Comfortable? No, wear the dark wash jeans and low cut red silk shirt I bought last week.
Why in God’s name did you tell him there was sauce on his cheek? You’re not his mother! You should have situated yourself closer and nonchalantly removed it yourself.
Knots wound through her stomach. If she didn’t stop, she’d have to get her antacids.
Shellie rested her head against the worn wooden back of her rocker, soaked in the cool autumn breeze, and stared off across Riley’s property. The weathered chair squeaked against the old, paint-peeling porch, lulling her
There was no way around it. Catching Mr. Right was damn hard work. Shellie had worn all different styles of clothes, fluttered her eyes, sipped sophisticated looking drinks, and still, nada.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. Not nada-nada, there had been plenty of Mr. Wrongs. Lord have mercy, but there had been plenty of Mr. Wrongs. She shuddered. Sorry to the boyfriends and one night stands of her past, but dull and arrogant dropped her pulse to dang near dead levels.
Her mother and her ridiculous ideas about flirting to catch the right kind of man—AKA, wealthy—was putting Shellie on a fast track to becoming the next weird cat lady on her block. That was a serious problem for Shellie. She didn’t like cats. Honestly, she wasn’t a fan of anything that pissed and shit on her carpet. There’d been only one thing she could do. Get out of town to catch a breather. She turned to the one person she knew in all the world who could revive her. Riley Hamilton.
Riley handed her a glass of iced tea and sank into the rocking chair next to her. “What are you thinking so hard about?”
She smiled. “My carpet.”
“Your what?”
“Never mind.”
Ah, Riley Hamilton. In elementary school he’d put grasshoppers in her Hello Kitty backpack. In Jr. High he’d constantly untied her hair ribbons. In Sr. High, he’d kissed her. Just once. She sighed as memories washed over. She’d been shocked at the moment and froze. He’d pulled away immediately, muttering an apology. Later she glowed, then she was weirded out by it. They did what any good friends would do—they ignored the moment and fell back into their routine. Looking back, she still found that kiss a bit…weird.
It’d been Riley. They had no business kissing, but still, of the handful of men who had ever kissed her, Riley’s was the only one who could make her toes curl by the memory. And it had just barely been a kiss. Not even a kiss, really. A peck. A whisper of lips over one another.
She swirled the ice around in her glass and sighed. “I was thinking about my mom.”
He pulled in a slow breath, unsure likely, on how to comment. It was a common side-effect when speaking of her mom. He rocked in his chair and tapped his glass against the wooden arm rest. “Dangerous territory.”
She smiled, appreciative of his honesty. “No kidding.”
“Are you getting homesick?”
She shook her head. “No. I was thinking about dating and how I follow her advice.” A laugh, hollow to her own ears, slipped over her tongue. “I guess I don’t know what to do with myself now.”
Riley shrugged. “Do what you want. You’re better than what your mom lets you believe.”
“Thank you.” She warmed over at that. When the idea of a breather struck her, she knew Riley was the man to find. He’d been the one who’d showed her how to sneak out at night and how to spend the day on the river bank instead of the mall where her mom believed she was. Taught her how to “borrow” the car and top it back off with gas after she was finished.
Shellie was in desperate need of some of that bad-Riley-behavior. She couldn’t push her mom off forever, not if Shellie wanted to keep her sanity. And honestly, married to some stuff shirt banging his secretary would be a hell of a lot easier than sticking it out with Mom and her never-ending list of Shellie Faults.
Sit up, dear.
What are you wearing? Comfortable? No, wear the dark wash jeans and low cut red silk shirt I bought last week.
Why in God’s name did you tell him there was sauce on his cheek? You’re not his mother! You should have situated yourself closer and nonchalantly removed it yourself.
Knots wound through her stomach. If she didn’t stop, she’d have to get her antacids.
Shellie rested her head against the worn wooden back of her rocker, soaked in the cool autumn breeze, and stared off across Riley’s property. The weathered chair squeaked against the old, paint-peeling porch, lulling her
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