First Chapter Friday: The Always One
I’ve had a crush on Smith Harrington since we were in college together. I knew he didn’t see me as anything more than his friend—just one of the guys—but that didn’t stop me from weaving sexy fantasies about him.
Now, after years of maintaining a long-distance friendship, Smith’s moving to Burton to be my partner at the veterinary clinic—and he’s living upstairs at my new house. After all this time, I should be able to handle working and living with him without getting hot and bothered.
Or maybe not.
I’ve wanted Maureen Evans since the first day I saw her, but she never seemed interested in taking things to the next level. Eventually, I figured we were destined to stay in the friend zone. And although we’ve lived hundreds of miles apart for years, to me, she’s still the one who got away.
When Maureen asks me to be her partner at the veterinary clinic, I jump at the chance. Maybe all hope is not lost. Maybe with a little effort on my part, we can finally have our shot at love. So even as Maureen tries to maintain our just-friends bond, I push those boundaries . . . until flirting crosses the line into something more.
When friendship is no longer enough, there’s always love.
Read the first chapter now!
“Have no fear, reinforcements are here!”
I heard Meghan’s voice before her red head poked around the corner of my bedroom door. She grinned at me and held up the pile of flattened packing boxes she’d brought. “As promised. And I’ve got some wrapping paper and tape in the car. I’ll go grab them.”
“Why don’t you hold on for the moment? We’ve got enough to get started, and we’re tight on space.” I gazed around my room, sighing. Who would think that thirty years of living in the same house, with a brief hiatus during college, would let me accumulate this much crap? And yet here we were, knee-deep in boxes, knick-knacks, books, and clothes.
“Okay, where should I start?” Meghan stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the scene. “This is your show. I’m just a hired hand.”
“Yeah, well, don’t expect anything in the way of recompense, toots. This is strictly a charity gig. I’m poor now, you know.”
“Don’t worry. The only expectations I have are paper cuts and maybe a pizza and a couple of beers.”
“That I can handle. Why don’t you start with the books? There’re a few sturdy boxes from the liquor store in the corner.”
“On it.” She retrieved one of the boxes and began pulling books from the tall shelves that lined my walls, stacking them carefully. “I passed your mom on my way in. She seemed a little, ah, preoccupied. Everything okay?”
I blew my bangs out of my eyes. “Yeah. She’s picking up the pizza.” I concentrated on wrapping a small crystal box. “She claims it’s not true, but I think on some level, she’d started to think I was going to live here with her forever. You know, the widow Evans and her spinster daughter.”
“Shut up. You’re not a spinster.”
I nodded. “Oh, you’re right. I forgot about the husband and kids I have. Crap, where did I leave them now?”
Meghan rolled her eyes. “I just mean, you’re hardly old and dried up. Lots of women stay single later nowadays. You’re a modern career gal.”
Snorting, I reached for another pile of paper. “Sure I am. Or I’m the oldest single woman in Burton under fifty.” I watched my friend try to work out what I’d said. “No, it’s true. I figured it out the other day. Miss Charity, who works at the bank, is in her mid-fifties, near as I can figure. I don’t think there’s another unmarried woman in town my age or older until you get to her.”
“Maybe if you dated a little more instead of spending your Friday nights thinking about that stuff, it’d be a moot point.” She taped up the first box of books and moved on to another one.
“Uh-huh. That reminds me, I need to send a change-of-address notice to the men knocking down my door, begging to take me out.” I lifted my own finished box and carried it to the hallway. We were getting a nice little collection out here. Pretty soon, I could build a tunnel.
“I’m not going to argue and point out that if you wanted to go out on dates, you could.”
“Yeah, with who? You took the last decent available man in town.” I thought about Sam Reynolds, who’d been more like a brother to me than anything else, and I gave a little shudder. “Not that I was interested in Sam that way. Ever. I’m glad he ended up with you.”
Meghan smiled. “Me, too. But while I’ll admit I happen to think my husband is the sexiest, most incredible man in town, I find it hard to believe he’s the last one.”
“Okay, maybe Rilla’s the one to blame. She snapped up Mason from under our very noses.”
“Were you interested in Mason?” Meghan’s voice was equal parts surprise and amusement.
“Not one bit. I mean, the man is seriously hot. He’s built for sin, he’s a huge flirt, and he’s sweet as sugar to boot. But other than that, not my type.” I flipped up the top flaps of a half-packed box.
“So exactly what is it you’re looking for, if it’s not someone like Sam or Mason?” She started on a new shelf of books.
“Ah, I didn’t say I wasn’t looking for someone like Sam or Mason. But there are definite aspects of those men I’d love to have in my OAO.”
“OAO?” Meghan’s forehead wrinkled.
“One and only.” I winked at her and then tilted my head, thinking. “I guess I’m looking for someone . . . easy. Someone who I can hang out with, who knows me and likes me for who I am. Someone I don’t have to pretend with.” Smiling, I stood up and stretched my back. “Physically, I’m not that picky. A little taller than me, in good shape but not too built, you know? I don’t want to be intimidated by how much he works out. A regular guy.”
“There’ve got to be tons of regular guys around Burton. Maybe you’re just not looking in the right places.”
“Oh, yeah? And just where do you think this battalion of regular guys hangs out, pray tell? At Mason’s? At church? Out at the farm stand?”
Meghan threw up her hands. “I don’t know, Reenie. But you have to put yourself out there to meet people. Your—what did you call him? Your one and only isn’t going to just walk up to your front door and ring the bell.”
“Maybe he’ll bring in his dog to the clinic. We’ll lock eyes over his only-a-little-bit sick pet, and he’ll say . . . ‘Hello, Dr. Evans. I’m just a regular guy, and I’ve been looking for a girl just like you.’”
“You’ve been reading too many romance novels.” She lifted a stack of paperbacks. “Exhibit A.”
“Yeah, whatever. Why shouldn’t my life be like one of those books? I deserve a beautiful happily-ever-after.”
“Of course you do. I’m just saying you might have to do a little something to make it happen.” Meghan lifted up the box and carried it out of the room. “So is your mom really upset about you moving out?”
“No. I don’t think so.” I stopped moving for a moment. “I mean, I think she’s a little sad. I’m the last chick to leave the nest. Iona’s been gone since she left for college and Flynn . . .” I rolled my eyes. “He left with all the big drama, of course.”
“And came back in the same way.” Meghan dropped onto the floor and began to put together one of the flattened boxes. “But it all worked out.”
“Yup.” My baby brother had left our small town the day after his high school graduation, full of ambition, determination and with a badly broken heart, since his long-time girlfriend Ali Reynolds had changed her mind at the last minute about going with him. He’d only returned about a year and a half ago when our father had died suddenly. He’d been as surprised as the rest of us to learn that Ali’s daughter Bridget was actually his child.
As Meghan had said, everything had worked out. Ali and Flynn had gotten married about a year ago, and now they divided their time between New York City and Burton, where they’d built a small house on the Reynolds’ family farm.
“Still, I don’t think it bothered Mom so much because I was here. Or Dad was. And when I told her my idea about buying the old Walker house, she was as excited as I was.” I wrapped another piece of crystal. “But over the last few weeks, she’s been pretty moody. Maybe it just hit her that I’m really leaving.” The thought of my mom rambling around this big house, lonely and sad, hurt my heart.
Meghan stepped around boxes and piles of stuff to sit on the bed next to me. “Maureen, this is a good thing. It’s a move forward. You’re buying your own home, and now you own the clinic, too. Your mom knows that, even if it’s going to be an adjustment at first.”
“I know.” I sniffled a little and dug in the pocket of my jeans for a tissue. “I guess change is always hard.”
“Helloooooo!” A familiar voice floated up the steps, and I smiled.
“Up here!” Meghan answered, and we heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps running lightly up the stairs. A few seconds later, my sister-in-law’s head peeked around the corner.
“What’s this? I thought we were working. Packing and shit.”
“Ali!” Meghan popped up and clambered over everything blocking her way to the door. “When did you get into town?”
“Just now, basically. We pulled into the farm, and Sam told me where you were. I left Bridge and Flynn to unpack and settle in. I figured y’all could use some help.” She surveyed the room. “Seems I was right. Shit, Reen, how the hell did you accumulate all this stuff?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. And I swear I didn’t have this much crap until I started packing it. Maybe it multiplied.”
“That sounds possible. Point me in the direction of boxes, and tell me what to do.”
I pointed to the shelves. “How about helping Meghan finish up the books? That seems like the biggest priority.”
“On it.” She grabbed a box and began pulling books from a shelf Meghan had begun. “Okay, bitches, tell me all the news. Email and texting are great, but I feel like I never get the real scoop until we talk.”
“First of all, can we discuss how you talk when you come back from being up north? Since when do you call your friends ‘bitches’?”
Ali laughed. “Sorry. I need to stop talking Yankee when I hit the Mason-Dixon, huh? But stop trying to divert me, Reenie. I need to know what’s going on with you and one Mr. Smith Harrington.”
My face grew warm, and I dropped the marker I was using. “Nothing. What do you mean?” I bent over to retrieve the pen.
“I mean, when we left for New York after Christmas, you were living here, working at the clinic, clinging to the status quo. Then about a month ago, I hear from your mom that you’re taking over Dr. Yancey’s practice, buying a house, and the guy who made your heart go pitty-pat all through college is moving down here. Moving in with you.” She dropped two books into the box and threw up her hands. “What the fu—uhh, I mean, heck? Tell me what happened.”
I reached for a pile of notebooks and slid them into the box I was packing. “First of all, Mom’s not here, so you don’t have to worry about her yelling at you for your language. Second, Smith isn’t moving in with me. He’s going to rent the upstairs part of my house. Mrs. Walker converted it to a duplex a few years back.”
“But how did Smith end up being your renter? I didn’t even know you were still in touch with him.”
I’d forgotten that Ali would probably remember Smith—and that she was one of a very select group of people who’d known about the huge crush I’d had on him. She and I had still been friends early in my college years; our estrangement hadn’t happened until the summer before my junior year. Crap.
“Yeah, we did. Keep in touch, I mean. Nothing big, just emails, social media, that kind of thing.” I worked hard to keep my voice casual. No way did I want Ali making a huge deal out of this. “He was looking around for a new practice, and I knew I didn’t want to try to run Dr. Yancey’s on my own. I’ve got some good ideas for expanding it, but I can’t do that without a partner. So it worked out well.”
“Mmmmmhmmmmm.” Ali finished her box and began taping it. “And is Mr. Smith Harrington married?”
I didn’t look up. “Um, no.”
“And is he currently involved in a relationship?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“And are you planning to jump his bones?”
“I don’t—God, Ali. Seriously? Are you fifteen?”
“Nope. Just morbidly curious.”
“Well, stop. That whole thing with Smith—that was a long time ago. And keep your mouth shut when he gets here because he never knew about any of that craziness. Thank God. I’d have been mortified.”
“Okay, I feel like I just walked into the second act of a play. What’re you talking about?” Meghan looked from our mutual sister-in-law to me. “I thought Smith was just an acquaintance from college. Did you guys date?”
“No.” I filled that one word with as much emphasis as possible. “We did not. We were very good friends. We still are. And that’s all we’ll ever be.”
Ali nodded, her face poker straight. “That’s right. They were very good friends. Smith was the very good friend Reenie wanted to screw silly.”
I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. “Ali. You’re making me regret telling you all my deep-darks way back when.”
“Too late. And tell me it’s not serendipity, him deciding to move down here. You’ll be in the same town, in the same house, working together . . . sounds like the perfect set-up to me. Time to make some of those sexual fantasies come true.”
“When did you get such a dirty mind?” I stood up and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Blame your brother. We’ve been making up for lost time, and he’s very creative. Just the other night, we—”
I clapped my hands over my ears. “La, la, la, la—I don’t need to hear the disgusting details of your sex life with my little brother.”
Meghan came over to sit next to me again. “Don’t worry, Reen. If she gets out of hand, I’ll just make sure I talk about what her brother and I did last weekend down at the lake.”
Ali made a face and held up one hand. “Okay, okay. You win.” She shook her head. “When did it happen that my sisters-in-law ganged up on me like this?”
“That’s what happens when you spend six months out of the year in the big city, little sister.” I picked my way across the room and folded her into a tight hug. “But we love you anyway. Thanks for coming over to help, even if you are a pain in the ass.”
“Maureen Ann, language!” The front door slammed shut, and my mother’s words sailed up the steps.
I rolled my eyes. “Why is it always me she catches? You two could out-swear sailors and she never hears a word.” Raising my voice, I leaned out into the hallway. “Sorry, Mom.”
She appeared at the top of the stairs, lifting her curling black hair off her neck. “It’s hotter than hades out there. Ali, come here and give me a hug. Look at you, you’re more beautiful than ever.” Mom wrapped Ali in her arms then leaned back, studying her daughter-in-law. I saw my mother’s eyes narrow a little, but she didn’t say anything before she released her. “How’re you girls coming up here? Almost done?”
“Oh, uh, we’re getting close.” I glanced behind me at the partially-packed boxes and piles of assorted stuff.
“Hmm.” Mom raised one eyebrow. “Well, pizza’s waiting for you downstairs. Let’s go eat while it’s hot.” She turned and headed down the steps.
I slung an arm around Ali. “You know what the best part is of you and Flynn and Bridge being back in Burton? It means Mom has three other people to worry about and pester.”
Ali sighed and shook her head. “Oh, joy.”
I laughed. “Welcome home, little sister.”
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Bosom Buddies Episode One
Everything in life is a tradeoff.
At least, that’s the way I look at things. Take today, for instance. Here I was at the end of a twenty-four-hour shift at the hospital, and by all rights, I should have been heading back to my condo to collapse into bed for a solid eight hours of desperately needed sleep. But instead, I’d turned left out of the hospital parking lot and aimed my car toward the small town of Burton, located about forty-five minutes due west of Savannah.
I wasn’t driving all the way into town today, even though I was tempted to pop into my friend Celeste’s adorable lingerie shop and shoot the breeze with her. No, my destination was about ten miles outside of Burton: I was driving to a picturesque little piece of property that boasted a small lake, two acres of wooded land, and over a hundred years of fascinating history.
Oh, and it also included a rambling old mansion that hadn’t been occupied for several decades. Seeing the beauty it could become hadn’t been easy, but I had a discerning eye for spotting potential, and this house had it in spades. I’d fallen head over heels for the place and made a rare impulsive decision. I’d forsaken the search for a cookie-cutter suburban starter home and committed to another year or two in my soulless Savannah condo in order to fund the rehab of my dream home.
Last month, the work on the bones of the house—the structural support, electricity and plumbing—had all been finished. This week, the company I’d hired to handle the historical rehab was supposed to begin working its magic, and I couldn’t wait another moment to see what they’d done so far.
Hence, the tradeoff. I was giving up sleep in exchange for a quick walk-through of my dream home.
It was late afternoon, so I wasn’t completely surprised to see that there weren’t any trucks in the winding driveway that led to the house. Was I a tiny bit disappointed? Sure. I wanted to think that the people I’d hired were giving my precious project all of their time and energy and attention, but the truth was that they probably had other jobs going on at the same time.
Anyway, being alone would give me a chance to really soak it all in without anyone there to rush me along or ask pesky questions. There you go—yet another tradeoff.
I let myself in through the front door only because I wanted the full effect of stepping into the magnificent foyer. I wasn’t disappointed. The walls were freshly painted in an updated shade of their original color, and the woodwork we’d selected for this space was already up, and even though it hadn’t been finished yet, I could already see how gorgeous it was going to be.
“Oh, baby,” I murmured. “You are going to be so beautiful when they’re done. I’d say we’re restoring you to your former glory, but I think it’s going to be even better than that. Kind of like getting a facelift that makes you look like a sexier version of your twenty-year-old self.” I giggled to myself, thinking of all the women who would line up for that kind of surgery.
Kneeling down, I ran my fingers over the baseboards and craned my neck to examine the molding that ran along the top of the walls, seeing in my mind’s eye the old photos one of my contacts at the county historical society had dug up for me, the ones that we’d used to make style and color decisions. It really was like the original, only better.
I was about to stand up again and make my way toward the kitchen when I heard footsteps upstairs. That was disturbing; if the crew had left for the day, no one should have been here. But there they were again: yeah, someone was definitely upstairs, and whoever it might be wasn’t making any effort to disguise his or her presence.
My mind raced through a number of possibilities, landing on the worst one first. I’d heard that sometimes vagrants or addicts or criminals scoped out empty houses and camped out there when they were fairly sure no one else was around. My place was pretty far off the beaten track, but still . . . if someone happened upon it, they might not like the idea of being chased away, and if they felt cornered or had a weapon, I could be in trouble.
I moved slowly, reaching into my purse and groping blindly. Like most women, I’d learned young the defense method of threading keys through my fingers, and if I could find them now, I might be able to buy myself time to get to my car. I thanked my past self for feeling safe enough out here that I’d left it unlocked. The door was just a few feet away, and if I could get to it silently—
And then the footsteps sounded again—this time louder and coming closer. My heart pounded, and sweat broke out all over my body. I tried to swallow, but my throat was bone dry. I took a deep breath and was about to make a run for the door when I heard a deep voice.
I looked up, lifting my eyes to the banister on the second floor where a man was staring down at me. I blinked, my mind darting this way and that as I tried to make sense of the stranger above me who knew my name.
It wasn’t Linc Turner, the co-owner of Kent and Turner, the historical restoration company I’d hired. I’d have guessed it was one of the men who worked for him, but I hadn’t met any of them. It might have been someone local to Burton—someone I’d met with Celeste or maybe through Young Survival Coalition, the breast cancer support network and organization where we both volunteered. But it wasn’t. Somehow, I knew I hadn’t seen this face in a long time.
But I didn’t know him. The familiarity was frustratingly fleeting and vague. I frowned, rising slowly as the guy who seemed to know me jogged down the steps. My keys were still in my hand, so if he turned out to be psychopath who somehow happened to know my name.
“I didn’t put it together . . . I mean, Hudson is a common name, right? But then I heard your car in the driveway, and when I looked out the window to see who was here, I knew it was you.” He took a step toward me.
I moved backward. “I’m sorry. I don’t . . .” My voice trailed off. “How do you know me?”
He was quiet for a moment, and then a half-smile curled his lips. My heart sped up again, but this time it wasn’t fear making my pulse race. It seemed that my body had realized who he was, but my head was slow to catch up.
And then he spoke, his voice low and husky.
Just like that, it all came flooding back to me, and I knew without a shadow of doubt who was standing in front of me.
Who is Wesley?
And how does he know Sabrina?
Read next week and find out!
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Teaser Tuesday: JUST ROLL WITH IT
Sometimes, the best-laid plans don’t work out the way you expect.
When law school student Amanda Simmons shows up at her friends’ engagement party, she’s not expecting to indulge in a wild one-night stand with the bride’s older brother. On the other hand, Vincent DiMartino is smart, sexy—and safe. He doesn’t want more than a quick hook-up, either.
Or so she thinks.
Vincent isn’t interested in long-term, and he has no desire for a serious relationship. His job as a pastry chef in his family’s restaurant demands all of his time and attention. His night with Amanda is supposed to be just that—one night. But he doesn’t bargain for how much he enjoys her sense of humor, her intelligence and her sass . . . not to mention to her unrepentant sensuality.
Now that he realizes he wants more than just her body, can Vincent persuade Amanda to take a chance on him? Will she risk her heart on the man who was only supposed to be a fling?
Sometimes plans go awry. And sometimes, you just have to roll with it.
JUST ROLL WITH IT is the long-awaited and anticipated fourth book in the Perfect Dish Romances. It’s releasing April 7th (my birthday!!) and I have a sexy sneak peek right here–just for you. After you read, be sure to click the PREORDER button below and get your copy ordered!
“Amanda.” My voice was rough. “Can I ask you a question?”
She rolled to her side to look up at me, and the neckline of her dress gaped as her boobs pressed together. Sweet mother Mary.
“Of course. You can ask me anything.”
I cleared my throat. “Are you wearing pantyhose or a garter? It’s been killing me all night, looking at your legs and wondering. I know I won’t get to find out for myself tonight, so humor me. Give me something for the spank bank.”
“Hmmmm.” One of her eyebrows quirked up. “Which would you find more . . . interesting?”
“Oh, come on,” I groaned. “Don’t make me choose. Just tell me.”
“What if I said neither?” Her fingers curled around the end of her dress, and slowly she began tugging it up. “I don’t like pantyhose. And garters can be uncomfortable sometimes. So when I have to wear stockings, I like . . . these.”
The green material moved out of the way to reveal a wide band at the top of the sheer black hose, which gave way to her creamy skin and then a hint of red lace.
Suddenly, my driver’s seat wasn’t so comfortable.
“You trying to kill me? Jesus God, woman. Look at you.”
“Sorry?” She sounded anything but.
I scowled, but a plan began to form in my mind. At the next intersection, I hung a sharp left and floored the gas, hugging the curves that took us off the main road and closer to the beach.
“Where are we going?” Amanda pushed up onto her elbows and peered out the window. “This doesn’t look like how Mom and I drove down from the hotel.”
“It’s called a detour, sweetheart.” When she tilted her head questioningly, I added, “Don’t worry. I’m not dragging you off into the woods for a quick fuck.”
“That’s a relief. I think.” She took a deep sniff, frowning a little. “Are we close to the ocean?”
“Yep.” I pulled into a small dirt lot. “This is Dawman’s Cove. Carl and I used to come down here sometimes to fish when we were kids. Well, more than kids . . . after Carl got his license and could drive us. It’s quiet, and not that many people come down here.” I turned off the car and stuck the keys in my jacket pocket. “C’mon.”
“Wait. Where are we going?” Amanda scrambled to sit up. “Vincent, it’s fucking cold out there. I don’t have a coat or anything. Just this little wrap. I’m going to freeze.”
“I’m not going to let that happen, baby.” I jogged around the car and tugged her out of her seat. “We won’t stay out here long. I just . . . I want to kiss you under the stars tonight. I want to hold you in the dark and hear the ocean pounding and believe in crazy things like eternity and forever.”
Her eyes were luminous as she closed her fingers around mine. “Vincent, just when I think you’re one thing, you shock the hell out of me and make me realize you’re something else.”
I laughed. “Don’t give me too much credit. I’m just not sure I’ll make it back home tonight in one piece after seeing what’s under your dress, and I need something to tide me over, since I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to see you again.”
She hesitated only a second before I knew she’d acquiesced. Keeping my hand firm on hers, I led her through the dark, down the uneven wooden plank walk until we were on the edge of the small secluded beach.
“Tide’s high,” I observed. “Plus, if I make you walk on the sand, you’ll break your ankle in those shoes.”
“You’re probably right.” She was breathless. “It’s so dark and quiet here. If it were summer, we could go skinny dipping.”
The image of Amanda dancing naked in the waves was enough to push me over the edge. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her body against mine until there wasn’t a breath of space between us. With one hand, I gathered the skirt of her dress up until her leg was bared. My fingers skimmed over the top of her stocking and then under the lace of her panties.
“Vincent.” She moaned my name. “What’re you doing?”
“Making a new memory for you, baby. I want you to remember how good we can be. Once you get back to the city and return to your real life tomorrow, you’re going to start to second-guess everything we talked about tonight. You’ll began to doubt what we said. I figure maybe I can give you a reason to believe in me.”
Bending my head, I covered her lips, tasting what I’d been craving for the past three months. Her tongue met mine, and as I stroked the inside of her mouth, I dragged my fingers over the wet and swollen folds between her legs. Her breath hitched, and she canted her hips to rock into my hand.
“God, Vincent.” She mumbled against my lips. “What do you do to me?”
“I make you feel good, babe.” My thumb pressed into her clit, and she cried out, gripping my shoulders and letting her forehead drop onto my chest. “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers, right here, and you’re going to come hard.”
She made some kind of undecipherable noise that was either consent or denial, but she didn’t pull away from me. I slid two fingers inside of her and pumped them hard, gritting my teeth as my cock grew painfully hard beneath the zipper of my fly.
“Vincent.” She was grinding into me now, her eyes closed and her lips open as she chased the pleasure. “God, oh god. Can you—god, harder. Right—right there.” With sharp gasp, she arched her neck, her legs stiffening and locking my hand where it was. I slowed the movement of my fingers, but I didn’t pull them away until she sagged against me.
“Are you cold?” I murmured into her ear as I held her tighter.
She shook her head. “I don’t feel anything right now except pure and unfiltered bliss. I think maybe I’m floating.”
I chuckled. “That good?”
“Mmmmm.” She hummed and lay her head on my shoulder. “But this isn’t fair to you. I’m all about reciprocity, but no way in hell am I getting down on my knees out here.”
“That’s okay. We’ll bank that IOU for the next time we’re together, okay?”
Amanda sighed. “Which will be . . .”
I snorted. “With that kind of incentive promised to me? Soon, baby. It’ll be soon.”
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