Sample Chapters
These sample chapters are here to give you a glimpse of what I love to write—and what readers like you fall in love with. Take a peek, enjoy a chapter (or two), and see if my heroes and heroines steal your heart.
RANGERS OF CANYON CREST SERIES
Book 4 - Forgiven Ranger's Deception ( A Fake Dating Romance)
Chapter 4 (Nick)
I groan softly when Christian’s name flashes across the screen of my phone. This is the third time he’s calling me in two days and frankly, I’m tired of him checking in. I’ve assured him everything’s going well. Plus, I’m on my way to meet Fiona and can’t afford any distractions right now. But I also can’t ignore a call from my captain.
“Hey,” I say, answering the call.
“Hi, Nick.” It’s Mikaela, and for a second, I shift the phone away from my ear to make sure it’s the right caller ID.
“Hey, Kaela. What’s up? Why didn’t you call me from your phone?” I question.
“I left it at home,” she replies. “So what are you up to? Christian says you’re staying in the city.”
She’s fishing for information. Which probably means she’s not anywhere near her boyfriend. It also means Christian is serious about keeping her away from all this. I’m sure it’s driving her crazy.
“Yeah for a few weeks. I’m actually on my way to meet Fiona. We have a date.”
“Hmm.”
I almost smile. “Come on, Kaela. You called to say something, so just say it.”
“All right, fine. I just think it’s cruel that you’re playing with her feelings like this. And I was hoping I could convince you to figure out another way. I don’t want you to regret it.”
I pause and consider her words. On one hand, I understand where she’s coming from. But then I can’t help but think about Naomi and the women that were abducted with her. All those other people that Caster has killed. All the people whose lives the Blake family must have ruined.
“Trust me, I won’t. And if for some reason it turns out you’re right and Fiona’s innocent, then her feelings get hurt. But we’ve got Caster in custody, or his body is rotting six feet underground. I’m fine with either if I’m being honest.”
“It’s not just about Fiona’s feelings. It’s about you. You’re a good man, Nicholas. I just don’t want you toying with Fiona only to end up regretting it. What if you actually develop feelings for her? The others aren’t considering that, but it’s possible. After all, you liked her enough to text her for weeks and ask her out on a date. You might be pretending now, but feelings are tricky.”
I’m not going to lie, her words resonate within me. Mostly because I’ve thought about it once or twice. But I’m trying hard not to. There’s a difference between Fiona, the woman I really liked talking to a few weeks ago, and Fiona Blake. The first woman I could see myself falling for. The other one, not so much. I just have to remember to make the distinction.
“You sound like my mother, Kaela. You’re always nagging me,” I mutter.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Well, your nagging is very much not appreciated. I’ll be fine, Mikaela. Don’t worry.”
“I can’t help but worry,” she states.
“Babe?” I hear Christian’s voice, and I’m guessing he just walked in on her.
“I’ll talk to you later, Nick,” Mikaela says before hanging up.
And it’s a good thing too because I’m already running late for my date with Fiona. I arrive at the bowling alley twenty minutes later than we originally planned, and I’m really hoping she’s not too upset. I catch a glimpse of her seated on one of the chairs. She doesn’t notice me immediately. She’s staring at her phone, her brown eyes gleaming a little thanks to the screen’s reflection. I watch as her legs bounce up and down immediately. She’s nervous, and the sight of that shoots a thrill through me.
I haven’t dated anyone in forever, and I was worried Fiona wouldn’t actually be interested. This whole thing falls apart if she isn’t, but she seems to be. We’ve talked a few more times in the past few days. It surprises me how easy it is—talking to her and being with her.
I step further into the dim light of the bowling alley, and she finally looks up. Our eyes meet, and my heart skips a beat. Just one, not enough to go crazy about. I ignore that in favor of smiling at her. She walks up to me, dressed casually in jeans and a cashmere sweater. It never ceases to amaze me how much she acts and looks like a normal woman. Except for how insanely beautiful she is, of course.
“Hey,” I greet once she’s standing in front of me.
I reach down and brush a few strands of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitches softly as she looks up at me. There’s a frown on her face.
“You’re late.”
“I got here a while ago. Then I got distracted looking at this beautiful woman.”
She looks around the room, taking note of the fact that most people here are either teenagers, elderly people, or families here for the weekend. Now that I think about it, this might not have been the ideal place for a romantic date. I literally said the first place that popped into my head. Maybe I should have googled it.
I might hide it better, but I’m just as nervous as her. I don’t know how to do this or if I’m doing the right thing. All I know is that I can’t screw this up.
“The woman’s me, right? Because if you’re talking about some grandma, I’m walking out of here right now,” she says with a smile.
“Of course, it’s you.”
A baby starts wailing not too far from us, and I wince.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize this place would be so busy.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind. Plus, I thrive in noisy places. It helps me get out of my head and focus on what’s in front of me.”
“You get lost in your head, huh?” I ask, leading her toward the counter, so we can pay and get started.
“I’m an artist, we spend a lot of time dreaming up things that don’t exist. Fantasy, that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, you mentioned you paint, right?”
“Yes but not professionally. I don’t sell my art or anything. It’s a hobby and the only thing I can actually do. Although if anyone asks, I just tell them it’s my job. I’m unemployed though. I probably should have told you that before you agreed to date me.”
“So you’re unemployed. Geez, princess, I like a working woman. Someone has to be earning money in this relationship. How is this ever going to work?” I ask with a groan.
She laughs, so I know she knows I’m joking.
“Don’t worry,” she tells me. “I was left some money, so we should be fine on that front.”
I’m pretty sure every cent of the money she’s talking about was earned illegally. I could push and get her to talk more about her family, but I’m trying not to act suspicious.
“So why don’t you sell your art?” I ask instead.
“Because it’s my art, and it’s private.”
“You never let anyone see them?”
She shakes her head. “In college, I didn’t have much choice when it came to showing people my art. But it’s always been an intimate thing to me. After I graduated, it just became this special thing that was all mine. My art’s the one thing no one can take away from me.”
“You’re scared,” I say, taking in the look in her eyes.
Eyes really are a window to the soul. And anytime I look into Fiona’s brown ones, I can see everything she’s trying not to say. She looks up at me in surprise, and I know I’ve got her pegged.
“It’s not about being scared,” she says insistently.
“No, I get it. Your art is special. It’s your thing, and you’re worried if anyone saw it, the real you, they would be….” I trail off because she’s the only one that can finish that statement, considering I’ve never seen her art, and so I can’t quantify how it would make her look.
“They would be worried, scared,” Fiona confesses. “My paintings are my only escape from the darkest parts of myself.”
And there it is. A confession that she’s not as innocent as she seems.
“The darkest parts?” I question.
She shakes her head. “No. We’re bowling, Nick. Stop being so inquisitive.”
She smiles softly, and I can see the plea in her expression for me to drop it. So I do. With a grin, I head up to our aisle and grab a bowling ball.
“You don’t know how to play, right? I feel bad because I’m so going to crush you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Nicholas. I’ve always been a pretty quick study. And I have an uncanny ability to be good at anything I set my heart to.”
“Now who’s bragging?”
“Please, for every ten sentences that comes out of your mouth, at least one is you talking yourself up. You have an ego larger than the sun,” she exaggerates.
I grin. “I’m still going to beat you, princess.”
She smirks. “This is going to be so much fun.”
Turns out she’s right. It does end up being a lot of fun. More fun than I’ve had in a long time. I end up beating her, though she does put up a good fight. I briefly considered letting her win so we could end this with her ego intact. The only problem is, I hate losing, a lot.
So I settle for a kiss goodnight to make it all up. We’re standing outside the building, and she’s leaning against my car. I stand in front of her, noticing for the first time just how much shorter than me she is. I’m six feet tall, which isn’t as tall as most of my friends but still pretty tall—Fiona’s 5’4 or less. I run my hand through the side of her hair, loving the way the soft black strands feel on my skin. I love how long her hair is.
“You sure I can’t drive you home?”
“It’s fine, Nick. I can catch a cab home.”
“All right. I’m not happy about it though.”
“And I’m not happy you beat me. So I guess we’re both upset.”
I lean closer, “I know how we can both feel better.”
“Oh yeah? How?” she asks suggestively. There’s a gleam in her brown eyes as she stares up at me.
“This,” I say right before I kiss her.
She lets out a soft gasp, and I shut my eyes, leaning closer into the kiss. I had meant for it to be short and brief, but the moment my lips meet hers, it’s almost like I’ve been zapped by electricity. I stroke my tongue against the seam of her lips, demanding entry. They part and the heady, intoxicating taste of her coats my tongue.
I cup the back of her neck and angle her head so I can deepen the kiss. Her hands sink into my hair. And for a second, it feels like we’re drowning, and she’s my only source of oxygen. And it’s still not enough. I want more. Fiona’s the one to break the kiss. We’re both breathless by the time she leans away. I rest my forehead against hers, trying to catch my breath. I realized I had been subconsciously rubbing her elbow and quickly let go, shifting away to look her in the eye.
Earlier when I saw her, my heart might have skipped one tiny, measly, inconsequential beat. But right now, it’s practically galloping. And that’s so fucking terrifying.
“I had better go,” Fiona says once we’ve caught our breaths.
I can barely look her in the eye so I settle for a nod.
“Goodbye, princess.”
**************************************************************************
MISSION LOVE SERIES
Book 2 - Tangled With Mr. Easygoing ( A Forbidden, Best Friend's Brother Romance)
Chapter 7 (Sammy)
I wake up with the biggest hangover in the world, but that’s not what occupies my mind. No, what occupies it are the events I recall from last night, starting with a delicious dinner, some wine…, and then challenging a man I have no right to challenge to make his moves on me. The rest is fuzzy, but one moment stands out: me being so turned on and egging him on to kiss me and Hero…well, not kissing me. In fact, there was a pretty firm rejection right there, indicating he wasn’t affected and was just humoring me all along.
Oh my God.
“Oh, my God,” I repeat out loud, groaning into my pillow.
Mortification washes over me as I realize how much I’ve made a fool of myself. That thought is only increased when I notice the tray on my bedside table, where there’s a glass of green juice and a note.
Drink up. It works wonders after a long night of drinking.
So, he’s humoring me and being nice to me. Great. He’s totally unaffected, and here I am, acting like an idiot. I grab the glass and gulp it down, then march toward the bathroom and try to wash away the rest of the alcohol with a long, hot shower. But it’s not enough because I know how his mouth and tongue feel against my skin. I know where his touches affect me the most, and I almost know what his kiss tastes like.
I can’t face him. I can’t be alone with him here, knowing what happened, and the decision solidifies as I rummage through my closet for an outfit that will make me feel better. When I’m all dressed, I peek out of my bedroom, find the coast clear, and make a dash for it.
“Hold it right there. Where are you going?”
Hero’s deep, booming voice hits me in the face and my core at the same time. I bite back a sound and direct a cheerful smile at him.
“Shopping. You keep guarding my house. I’ll be back when I’m done.”
I’m in my garage and car before he can protest. Relief coats me that I got away, but it’s replaced with shock when he opens the passenger and slides right in.
“Lock the doors,” he instructs.
“Where are you going?” I squeal.
Hero looks at me like I must be kidding with my question.
“With you. My job is to guard you. The house is secondary.”
“But I’m just going shopping,” I protest. “My stalker hasn’t done anything in days, and it’s not like he can hurt me in public.”
“A job’s a job, Sammy.”
And I’m just a job to him, entertaining him until he moves on to his next one. Hurt blossoms inside me, and I have to close my eyes. Then I open them and concede.
“Fine. You can come. But only if we get to have lunch at my favorite restaurant after.”
“Okay.”
“And you can’t say anything about my choice of clothes.”
I wait for him to tease me and erase the awkwardness I’m feeling. But he doesn’t. Hero’s quiet during the whole ride which baffles me. What, does he not want even friendship now? Was I that embarrassing last night?
Or is he avoiding interacting with me because he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by outright saying he doesn’t think I’m attractive and was just playing with me?
I don’t know what’s worse.
*****
Somewhere between the drive and me entering boutiques with no goal in mind, I find myself trying on clothes and forming one goal in mind: to get a rise out of Hero, who remains impassive and doesn’t crack a single joke. It’s like he built a bubble around himself, and it annoys me to no end. I know he’ll deny it if I call him out, so I do the next best thing.
“What do you think about this? Is it appropriate for the wedding I’m attending in a few months?”
The dress I have on is low cut, the hem stopping above my knees. Hero barely glances at me before he shrugs.
“Sure. If you want to stick out like a sore thumb for a black-tie event.”
“I didn’t say anything about a black-tie event.”
“It’s Libby Oscar’s wedding. An heiress marrying a royal. I’m sure it’s going to be black-tie.”
Of course, he knows my schedule. I scowl and stomp back to the dressing room to try another one. When I slip out, he’s reading a magazine on the waiting couch with a bored look on his face.
“This one?”
Golden eyes take in my longer skirt. “That’s better.” Then they rove up and land on my cleavage, squeezed tight as I lean over a bit. His gaze darkens, but his voice remains flippant. “Never mind. Find another one.”
Challenge rises in me as I try on yet another dress and go out.
“And this? Surely this one’s appropriate.”
His gaze is back to clear, unaffected, and a little bored.
“Hmm. That’ll do.”
I nod, casual as can be. I turn around, my steps slow and sure. “Cool. Now I just have to find something for the after-party. Something lacy and soft—”
“Stop.”
His voice booms out again, but there’s an edge to it. Triumph slips in.
“That’s not appropriate,” he states. “Your back…”
“Libby’s going to look so gorgeous that no one’s going to notice this old thing. But if they do and make a move on me, even better.”
A hardness takes over his face as he scowls. I sense his anger radiating in the air, but mostly directed at me.
“That’s not what weddings are for.”
“It’s—”
“And you need to stop teasing me. You’re wasting our time. Just pick a decent gown, and let’s get out of here.”
I’m dumbfounded that he’s caught on, even more so that he’s so calm about it. Unaffected. Fury rises in me, too, as I march back in, no longer interested in finding another gown. Instead, I can’t wait to get out of this one and just forget about my stupid plan. But my hands are shaking, and the zipper is stuck. A frustrated sound escapes me.
And, of course, Hero hears it right away.
“Sammy? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! Please call the staff.” I know I told them to give me privacy, but…
Footsteps shuffle in. But it’s not a female voice I hear.
“What happened?”
I whirl in disbelief, tugging at my zipper again. It gives this time but bites at my skin and gets stuck again. I hold back a cry of pain.
“Shit. Stop that, Sammy.”
“It’s stuck. It’s—”
“I know. Stay still. I’ll get it fixed.”
He moves closer and turns me around, concern in his voice. I close my eyes and try not to panic when his hands are on my back, mainly to stretch out my skin and find a way to get the zipper to let go. But every graze of those fingers feels like a direct touch to my core, and I’m breathing hard and trying not to show it. I gasp in relief when the zipper finally unlatches from my skin.
“There you go.” His voice is odd…thick. “Better now?”
I nod. The stinging in my back is replaced with a gentle thumb rubbing that portion and eliciting pinpricks of lust from me. I’m facing the mirror but can’t look because his touch feels so good, and I’m in over my head.
A moan slides out. I can’t help it, the arousal is so thick and heavy that it’s clouding me up. Humiliation creeps in at how desperate I must sound, and the thought consumes me enough that I don’t notice us moving until I’m sitting on the side dresser and a body is looming over me. Hero’s body, sliding in between my legs. Hero’s head, lowering to crush my mouth to his in a heady, crazed kiss.
Oh.
I taste his hunger. I taste his shock, too, as if he can’t believe he’s doing this and can’t believe it’s good because, yes…it’s that good, and it’s evolving into something desperately animalistic. I cling to him, my hands digging into his shoulders while one of his hands finds my waist, and the other cups my face to deepen the kiss. He swallows my next moan. He presses his body against mine until I feel his heat, and my nipples perk in reaction.
I kiss him back. There’s no other choice, not when he’s consuming me like a man dying of thirst. I eagerly take in everything, from his possessive tongue to his groan when I suck on his tongue. And then everything—the heat, his body, his wonderful mouth—is gone, and I’m left almost collapsing on the dresser.
“Get dressed. We’re not doing this.”
I look up, dazed, as Hero places my crumpled dress in my hand and leaves the dressing room. Then I stare at myself in the mirror, flushed and heaving, and wonder how things turned from heated to cold within seconds.
***************************************************************
CODE RED SERIES
Book 6 - Mission: Reclaim Her ( A Second Chance Romance)
Chapter 6 (Lindsey)
This has to be a dream. It’s impossible how this escalated so quickly, from us glaring at each other to this. At the same time, the feel of his hot, hard mouth on my stomach is as real as it can get, making me tremble so hard that I have to hold on to the couch for sanity.
But then his mouth reaches the spot where I need him the most. And when he tugs down my panties and puts his head in between my legs, I find that I would rather live in whatever reality this is than any dreams or fantasies I’ve ever had of him.
It’s too much. It’s not enough. His glorious brown hair becomes my anchor as I slide my fingers into it, pulling and pulling while my body is wracked with endless, unbelievable waves of electricity. It sparks a response inside me that I haven’t felt in a long time, so I cling to it hard, greedy for more.
As if sensing how I feel, Josh slides a finger in, then another. His fingers, lips, and tongue work together to bring me to the edge, and I can only call out his name when I’m poised there. It sounds like a plea, but I don’t care.
“Josh…”
“Come for me, baby.”
Baby. So many memories come with that name, and I explode. There’s no other term for the way pleasure blinds me and then sizzles around me like an inferno until I’m burning everywhere. In the midst of it all, I still hear his voice, whispering reassurances that he’s there and he’s got me like he promised.
Delight creeps in when I wake up from the haze of orgasm and find his body still on top of mine. I arch into him, then bask in the next kisses that follow, his mouth doing wicked things to mine. I meet that level of wickedness with my hand wrapped around his cock, delighting even more when he lets out a strangled groan.
I almost laugh but end up gasping when he pushes my hand away and positions that hot, hard cock at my entrance. Then I wait with bated breath, anticipation singing in my bones until he finally thrusts in one smooth motion.
It shouldn’t feel familiar, but it is. Yet new sensations assault me, too. He’s so huge, and I’m no longer used to him, but my body accommodates him, anyway. He stretches me out as he continues sliding in, my name falling from his lips when he’s finally buried to the hilt.
“Lindsey, you’re so tight. It feels so good. So…fuck.”
I jolt at the curse, then rejoice in more kisses. I dance to his beat as his hips finally move, setting a rhythm that brings on that same desperation again. We share it, then grind in time with it. We touch whatever inch of skin we can get our hands on, needing that contact like we need air.
I thought our college sex life was good, but it’s nothing compared to this and the rawness of it. Josh has new moves that set me on edge, then has me whimpering and arching until he’s even deeper inside me. Then he’s hitting a part of me that has me crazed with pleasure, and I can only claw on his back and wrap my legs around him to deal with it.
But there’s no dealing with this much passion and hunger. There’s no dealing when his thumb is in the picture, finding that spot and flicking it. Just like that, I explode all over again, harder this time. Josh groans when I clench around him, his thrusts not stopping until his body eventually turns rigid.
“Lindsey…baby…”
Thrusting turns into pounding. His rhythm dissolves into a roughness that only speaks of his loss of control.
Let go, my mind says.
And I hold on to him when he does.
*****
It’s normal to tremble in the aftermath of such good sex, but when I shake for longer than anticipated, I realize it’s not just my mind blown from our joining. Panic flares, and I try to find a quiet moment to slip out and get my emotions under control. His breathing has steadied, so maybe he’s asleep. I push off the bed—
And an arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back down. Then he slides me against him, curling into me so naturally that my smaller body is swallowed. I think of his arm gash at first, but his mouth against my ear has that flying out the window.
“Stay. Let’s not pretend that didn’t mean anything to us.”
I brace myself for the panic to escalate, but his soothing tone does things to me. Coupled with his thumb gently circling my hip, I find myself relaxing against him. But my mind still fights it.
“It’s just sex.”
He rumbles out a laugh, sexy and dark. I yelp when he rolls us around until I’m below him, and his erection is right in between my legs, grinding right at my core. Pleasure dissolves the rest of my thoughts, wanting him inside me again.
“Just sex doesn’t feel like this, Lindsey.” He grins again, then retreats. “Let’s at least not lie to each other.”
A whimper is stuck in my throat. I let it out.
“I’m not…I’m not ready for anything more.”
At that, he rolls away, but he still takes me with him. Green eyes probe mine, demanding something else. “Then, at least tell me why we broke up. No bullshit excuses. I at least deserve that.”
He’s wrong. He deserves more. This man deserves the world and the shame of how I handled our relationship in the past spreads inside me like poison. Wanting that poison out of my system, I can’t think. I can’t move.
But I can speak, and the truth spills out before I can stop myself.
“My family told me to stop seeing you. They thought you would hold me back from achieving things.”
He tilts his head, frowning. I expect shock, but he’s not shocked. Something darker than that washes over his face.
“I figured as much. The question is why you can go against their will about becoming a doctor but can’t—”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand—”
“They threatened me—not my future but yours. They promised to ruin you if I didn’t break up with you.”
Silence meets my confession. This time, I feel his shock blasting through us until I’m itching from it. Needing to get away, I finally push away from him and take the sheets with me to cover my body with them. It leaves Josh stark naked on the bed, and my gaze darts around to not look at his erection…or his body…or his face.
“That’s it?”
My mouth drops open at his incredulous tone. I shake my head, suddenly angry, too.
“It’s not that’s it. You knew who my parents were. You knew what they were capable of. It was a small town, and they had a lot of influence there. Your family, in the meantime…”
“Were white trash. My cousins were in jail while I was an orphan who picked fights and got into a lot of trouble. Nothing the society would ever deem worthy of anything, most of all you.”
Pain slashes me at his words. “Josh…”
He scrambles out of bed, too, and stands at the opposite end of the room. Just like that, it feels like the wall between us has returned. “Has it never crossed your mind to believe in us enough to fight them? To believe in me?”
“I did fight them. Not at first, but eventually. Over time, I realized how suffocating they were, only wanting things for me that would benefit them—like the prestige of being a town surgeon.” I hesitate, then… “Or getting engaged to the mayor’s son.”
At that, his expression hardens. “Michael Jones?”
“It didn’t happen. The toxicity of being told what to do all the time finally got to me, and I cut them off. I forged my path—alone, with no one’s influence but my academic marks and my skills. You—” I swallow a hard breath. “You were the best thing to happen to me in college, you have to understand.”
“Yet you never cared enough to seek me out. You let it all go and moved on.”
The pain doubles as I hang my head, the shame roaring inside me.
“I had to. I didn’t deserve you after all that. It took me years to learn my lessons, and we were already different people.”
More silence. Then he clears his throat. “That wasn’t for you to decide. But I guess you made the decision, anyway.”
I don’t see Josh leave, but I hear his footsteps and the firm slam of the bedroom door. I stay rooted on the spot, my mind whirling…my heart deflating.
I thought everything was already hurting before this, but his walking out feels like a new wave of pain taking over me. Tears fall from my eyes, the need for him fortifying in that painful moment. But I don’t go after him, not when he was right. I didn’t believe in us enough.
This time, he has a right to make his own decisions—even if it means wanting nothing to do with me.
**********************************************
THUNDER ELITES SERIES
Book 2 - SAMUEL ( A Forced Proximity, Enemies to Lovers Romance)
Chapter 4 (Eliza)
“So he’s hot?” my friend Sierra asks.
“Is that your only takeaway from this conversation?” I say exasperatedly.
I just finished relaying everything that’s going on with Sam to her.
“Eliza, you just told me about a very handsome man that’s staying at your house. Everything else is irrelevant,” she states.
“No. I also told you he’s a complete jerk and that I dislike him.”
“That’s even better. You’ve got the whole ‘enemies to lovers’ thing going on. Those are hot!”
I give up.
“Okay, I’m going to find someone else to talk to. Preferably someone that will make sense,” I tell her before getting to my feet.
She giggles before pulling me back down.
We’re at a café, located across the street from our company. Sierra and I have been working together since I came to Pakistan. She’s the only other American in the company. She has curly brown hair with dark eyes. She’s also really nosy and stubborn. Telling her about Sam was probably a mistake.
“Chill. Tell me exactly what your problem is with this Sam.”
“Okay, so he and my brother used to work together and he’s here to visit him for a short while. I helped him with something, but he was really ungrateful about it. Then he called me a weirdo even though he was the reason for this entire situation.”
There’s a lot of holes in the story, but I can’t exactly tell her that Sam is a U.S. agent who got shot. It’s classified information.
“I don’t really get it,” Sierra says.
“That’s okay, sweetie. I just really need someone to vent to,” I tell her.
She nods.
“How long has he been around for?” she asks.
“Two days. The worst two days of my life. He’s so stubborn even though it’s all his fault. All I need is a goddamn apology.”
“How old is he?”
“Why is that important?” I ask my friend, confused.
“Because it is. Now answer,” she replies.
“I don’t know. I think he’s in his thirties, but I can’t be sure.”
“Why not just ask him?”
“Hello? Did you miss the part about us being mortal enemies. We’ve been arguing non-stop. I figured Xavier would be sick of it by now, but my brother surprisingly enjoys us arguing. I asked him about it, and he said he prefers it to the other alternative.”
“What other alternative?” Sierra inquires.
“I don’t know. He said it with this weird, contented smile. I was too annoyed to ask him.”
“He probably meant the two of you liking each other.”
I choke on my spit.
“That would never happen.”
“I don’t know, Eliza. I see potential.”
I internally gag.
Sure, there’s potential. Potential for us to strangle each other in our sleep.
“Just talk to Sam. Try to be the mature one. It shouldn’t be too hard.”
She has a point. I’m usually nice and good-natured. I get along with most people.
“But he’s so infuriating,” I cry.
“My guess, the both of you are covering up affection with taunts and scorn.”
“Ew, no,” I say, taking a sip of my drink.
I’m trying hard not to think about how right on the money she might actually be. Sierra could be a psychic, who knew?
She laughs.
“Just try, okay?” she asks.
“Fine. I’ll try to have a conversation with Mr. Stick-up-his-ass,” I tell her.
“Good girl. Now come on, we’ve got to get back to work.”
When I get home, Sam and my brother are seated in the living room, watching TV. His arm is much better now.
“I’m back,” I announce.
They both turn to me. Sam gives me what I think is meant to be a smile but actually makes him look constipated.
“How was work?” he asks.
I raise an eyebrow.
“Why are you being nice?” I question.
“Your brother asked me to be the mature one and bury the hatchet,” he says to me.
My mouth hangs open.
“Dude, that’s the opposite of how I told you to approach this,” Xavier says, shaking his head.
It’s weird how Sierra told me to do the same thing.
“I’m pretty sure I’m the mature one in this scenario,” I tell him.
“Ha. Nice one,” Sam says before turning away from me.
I’m crazy for wishing his green eyes were still looking at me, right?
“The both of you are hopeless,” Xavier says before standing up and heading into the kitchen.
I drop down to the sofa that’s farthest from Sam.
“Can’t you at least try to be nice?” I ask him.
“You’re literally the reason we’re always arguing. You and your spit-fire attitude,” he replies.
“You and your cold, dismissive attitude,” I immediately retort.
He chuckles. It’s so surprising I turn to him with wide eyes. The smile really transforms his face.
“Are you smiling right now?” I ask, trying to ignore the flutters in my stomach.
“Yeah, I actually am,” he says like he can’t believe it himself.
“Didn’t think you had it in you,” I say with a small smile of my own.
He shrugs.
“I have my moments.”
We’re silent for a few minutes before I speak up.
“How old are you?” I ask.
Green, unblinking eyes stare at me.
“Why are you asking?”
“Just curious?” I reply.
He studies me for a moment.
“Guess,” he finally says.
“What?”
“Guess my age.”
I decide to indulge.
“22.”
“That’s a joke, right?” he asks, looking unimpressed.
“You have a baby face,” I say with a laugh.
That’s a lie, no baby has a jawline like that.
“Baby face, my ass. Serious answers please, Eliza.”
Those damn flutters reappear at the sound of my name on his lips.
“I don’t know…35?” I ask.
“Close enough. I’m 33,” he answers.
“That’s young,” I state.
“How about you?” he asks.
I narrow my eyes. “You should never ask a woman about her age.”
“You asked me first,” he protests.
“I’m 34,” I relent.
“Damn, you’re older than me,” he says, his green eyes gleaming.
I can’t tell if he’s pleased or put off by that.
“Is something wrong with that?” I ask him.
“Not in the slightest,” he replies with a small smile.
He moves to pick up the remote on the table in front of him. But the movement makes him yelp in pain. It must be his injured arm. I stand up to sit beside him on the couch.
“Let me see,” I tell him, pulling his arm into my hand. I can feel his green eyes boring into the side of my face.
I peek under the bandage and make sure that he didn’t rip open his stiches.
“You should be more careful. You aren’t healed yet,” I scold.
“You know, just the fact that you’re older than me is hot as hell. Now you’re adding the whole sexy nurse mix thing into all this,” Sam says on a sigh.
I gasp before looking at him.
He did not just say that.
“I’m not a nurse.”
For some reason, that’s all that comes out of my mouth. My brain chooses to focus on that part of his statement and not the rest of it.
He smiles softly.
“You really are cute.”
I became acutely aware of how close we’re sitting. His arm is in my lap and our heads and faces are so close. All he would need to do is bend his head and his mouth would be on mine. My lips tingle at the thought. Reflexively, my tongue darts out to wet them.
Sam’s eyes shoot down when they do and his eyes immediately darken. There’s no doubt what’s in his mind. His uninjured arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me closer, until I’m almost in his lap. Then his mouth begins descending.
“Eliza!” my brother yells, just as our lips touch.
I’ve never moved so fast in my life. One minute, I’m about to kiss Sam, the next I’m on the sofa far away from him.
Thank God for that because Xavier reappears a second later.
“What?” I ask him, slightly out of breath.
“Did you use up all the milk?” Xavier asks.
“I ate cereal this morning,” I tell him.
I’m trying my hardest to look anywhere but at Sam.
“Why are you two acting so weird?” Xavier asks.
“Nothing,” Sam and I say simultaneously.
Xavier’s eyebrows rise.
“Did the two of you make up or something?” he asks.
He has no idea how close we were to making out instead.
“I tried, Xavier. I really tried, but she’s too much of a pain in the ass,” Sam tells my brother.
A part of me knows he’s trying to throw Xavier off our scent, but his words still annoy me.
“Says the rude jerk from hell.”
Sam’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. Xavier merely shakes his head.
“I really don’t get why you both don’t like each other,” my brother says.
Sam says something in reply but I tune out their conversation. He looks so at ease. He certainly doesn’t look like a guy that just almost kissed me. I haven’t been in a lot of relationships, so I don’t know much, but I do know that it’s annoying that he barely even looks affected by what almost happened.
He said I was hot, but maybe that was just him trying to mess with my head. It was probably, most definitely that.
“I’m going to my room,” I announce before hurrying up the stairs.
I lie in my bed and think about our little moment. I come to the conclusion that it only happened because of all the ideas Sierra put in my head. Enemies to lovers my foot. Sam and I have a better chance of becoming enemies to murderers.
And the almost kiss never happened.