He and Kate had a bit of a shotgun wedding. They’d gotten engaged a month after Brody’s accident, and they have now married six months later. Who am I to judge shotgun weddings?
In the seven months since Brody’s accident, a lot has changed. Mostly the fact that I live with a boy. Brody asked me to move in with him almost straight away, but I waited a few months because everything about us had been moving so fast. I mean, we started our relationship with a wedding.
The other car who Brody swerved to avoid was never found. I hate them for getting away with it, but at least Brody is okay.
I also think Luke needed a bit of time to get used to seeing his bestie with his sister. He told us he was cool, but it took him a little longer than he showed to actually be okay. Now he just uses the ‘you went behind my back and slept with my sister’ thing to guilt Brody into going out whenever Brody says he can’t.
Sometimes it even works.
Brody wasn’t so patient every time I told him to wait a bit longer to move in with him. In the end he demanded. I made him wait an extra week.
Now we’re blissfully happy pissing each other off in the comfort of our home. I once teased about having half of his apartment. Joke’s on him.
I lean to my side, against Brody, and notice his half smile out of the corner of my eyes. Not that I thought much about how Brody would be as a boyfriend—or husband—but the man is surprisingly affectionate, always needing to touch me in some way.
The guests applaud the newly married couple, and then we filter out of the church, where they will have a million photos in the cool, early spring air. The ceremony was lovely, even if it did go on a bit. Mase and Kate look so happy.
Brody holds me like he’s scared I’ll disappear. He’s been doing that a lot in the eight months we’ve been together. We kind of went through a lot, but things have settled now, and we’re tight.
Today, he’s been holding on a little too tight.
“What’s up?” I ask as we follow Mase and Kate’s guests.
Next to the church, there is a wild field that Kate fell in love with. Apparently, it’s perfect for her boho-style wedding. I have to agree.
If I had to have a big wedding, I would want something like this.
They have one hundred and fifty guests, though, and I don’t think I even like half that many people.
His answer comes in the form of a kiss. The very second his lips brush mine I’m falling. Every. Single. Time. My toes curl in my shoes as his mouth devours me. I wrap my arms around him as his hold me flush to his chest.
“What’s up?” I ask him again when he lets me up for breath.
He lifts his eyebrow. “Nothing’s up.”
“Really? My bones are almost crushed.”
Letting up on the grip, he smiles apologetically. “Sorry.”
“You need to start talking because I’m not going anywhere until you do, and they’re going to want us for photos soon.”
“You liked the wedding.”
“That’s what’s wrong? I’ve got to say, Brody, that seems rather juvenile.”
His eyes dance. I love his eyes. “Juvenile, huh?”
I groan. “Tell me.”
“Is this what you want?”
This? The wedding? Oh, that’s what’s up. We’ve not really spoken about being married much, but I have no desire to do it again. Our wedding was perfect for us. Even if I can’t quite remember every part of it.
“No.”
“You wanted Vegas?”
I shrug. “Never really thought about it.”
“We don’t have any photos.”
“We have a few selfies,” I tell him.
He laughs. “Oh, well, that’s okay then.”
It’s not conventional, but I love the selfies we took outside the chapel, both grinning, obviously inebriated, and holding up a marriage certificate.
“Brody, days like this make me think, too, but I don’t want this. Do you?”
Shaking his head, he barks a laugh. “I couldn’t think of anything worse than a big white wedding. People watching you like you’re some freak show. No, thanks.”
“Then, why did you ask me all that?”
He takes my hands. His eyes are wide and so full of admiration that it makes my insides squirm. “Because I would do it for you. All I need is to be married to you for the rest of my life.”
“Aww.”
“Don’t start that bullshit.” He tries to keep a straight, stern face and prove that he hates the mushy stuff, but really, he likes a little romance sometimes.
Or maybe he only likes it because I now do. Either way…
“You know what you could do?” I ask, pressing my chest back to his.
His sharp intake of breath makes me want to ditch the reception.
“What’s that, Wren?”
“Get me a ring. One I can wear.” The casino chip is in my purse, but I want something I can see all the time.
His mouth parts. Oh, he likes this idea. “Really?”
“We should both have one. I want everyone to know that you’re taken… and it has been nine months since we got married.”
We didn’t bother with anything marriage-related because we were just enjoying being together.
Brody’s heart-stopping smile makes me soar.
“I want a really big one.”
He smirks. “Baby, please.”
* * *
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Acknowledgments
I would like to say a massive thank you to some people who are very important to me. Without them, I wouldn’t be publishing. Or I might, but I would be writing in a dark corner and crying.
My husband and sons, thank you for your support. I love you guys.
To Zoë, Charlie, Elle, Sam, Jodi, Vic, Kirsty, and Kim. You’re always a message away when I need you. Thank you for inspiring me and being there when I need you.
Lou… DUDE, THAT COVER! Thank you for making Vegas look beautiful inside and out.
My editors Jovana and Vic, you ladies are awesome!
To bloggers and my readers, none of this would be possible without you. Thanks so much for reading and spreading the love.
Also by Willow Winters
THE SILENCE SERIES
Silence
Broken Silence
Players, Bumps, and Cocktail Sausages
Silent Night
* * *
THE CHANCE SERIES
Second Chance
Our Chance
* * *
THE ONE SERIES
Waking up in Vegas
* * *
STAND-ALONES
Save Me
With the Band
Reliving Fate
Lie to Me
After the End
* * *
YA THILLERS
The Cellar
Awake
The Cabin
You Will be Mine
The Lost
The Twin
Keep in Touch with Natasha Preston
www.natashapreston.com
Natasha’s Facebook Reader Group
Moto
By M Never
“Four wheels move the body, two wheels move the soul.” ~ Unknown
Key Words
Apex—The tightest point on a corner, which the rider usually rides through just before he begins to exit, accelerating away.
Burnout—(also known as a peel out or power brake) The practice of keeping a vehicle stationary and spinning its wheels, causing the tires to heat up and smoke due to friction.
Endo—A trick which involves stopping a bike suddenly to lift the rear wheel off the ground. The opposite of a wheelie, it is sometimes also called a Stoppie.
Fairing—An outer body part of a racing bike that protects both the machinery and the rider from debris and gusts of wind. Fairings are decorated with team colors, sponsor logos and race numbers.
Gas—Throttle or acceleration. It is common to hear riders say ‘I opened the gas’, or ‘I gave it some gas.’
Grid—The collection of starting points on the start/finish straight on the track, where the riders gather at the beginning of each race, lining up in the positions in which they have qualified to start.
Lean angle—The lean angle refers to the degree at which a rider tilts his bike into the track as he corners at high speeds. Riders’ knees and elbows can often touch the ground at maximum lean angle.
Paddock—The area adjacent to the pit-boxes on the opposite side to the pit lane where teams and riders station their motorhomes and equipment for the duration of a Grand Prix.
Pit-box—A temporary garage with access directly onto the pit lane, each one designated to a team participating in the race.
Pit Crew—The team management, mechanics, and their assistants.
Pit lane—An access lane which is usually directly adjacent to the main straight on the track and is used for going between the pit-boxes and the circuit.
Pole position or pole—Refers to securing the first starting place for the race on the grid and is secured by the quickest lap in qualifying.
Qualifying—On the day before the races, all three classes of Grand Prix have to qualify. The riders start the race in the order in which they have qualified; which is to say that the rider with the fastest qualifying time starts in first place or pole position, the second fastest in second place, and so on.
Slipstream—To slipstream another rider is to follow him on a straight, and use the flow of air around him and his machinery to one’s advantage by building up the momentum to overtake him in the area of reduced pressure behind him.
Tyre—The outer part of motorcycle wheels, attached to the rims, providing traction, resisting wear, absorbing surface irregularities, and allowing the motorcycle to turn via counter-steering. Tyres are developed specifically for racing, offering the highest of levels of grip for cornering. Because of the high temperatures at which these tyres typically operate, use on the street is unsafe, as the tyres will typically not reach optimum temperature before a rider arrives at the destination, thus providing almost no grip en-route. In racing situations, racing tyres would normally be brought up to temperature in advance by the use of tyre warmers.
Tyre wall—A collection of stacked tyres used as a crash barrier to reduce damage and injury on impact.
Wheelie—A stunt often performed in celebration by riders, in which the front wheel of the motorcycle is lifted off the ground as a result of hard acceleration and a quick release of the clutch.
Kayla
“When are you going to let me show you what real power feels like between your thighs?”
“Never, Dev.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve told you a thousand times. I don’t date bikers.”
“Who said anything about dating?”
He actually thinks he’s being cute with his boyish smile, innocent eyes, and flirty reply.
Yeah, right. Dr. Devlin Dane is anything but boyish or cute or innocent. He’s the big bad wolf disguised as grandma, and he has every nurse in the hospital skipping through the forest with a basket full of goodies. Goodies they are all too willing to give up.
Well, everyone except me. I see his big eyes, big ears, and big sharp teeth, ready and willing to tear through the first pair of panties he sees.
He not only tears through them, he disintegrates them. Or so I’m told.
I’ve seen his type a million times. Hell, I went to a high school full of Devlin Dane’s. Bikers with egos bigger than their modified exhaust. All competing to ride the fastest, hardest, and collect the most street bunnies.
Bike culture dominates this no-man’s-land situated at the tip of the Chesapeake. The area is comprised of nothing but farmlands, sporadic new housing developments, low income trailer parks, and a brand name supercenter where you can get your tires changed, a blowjob, and buy a bag of coke all in the same hour.
The only leg up Dev has from your average street racer are his Hollywood good looks and a medical degree. Underneath the white lab coat is a man as rough as the rest of them. The colorful tattoos peeking out from under his sleeve and collar drive most women’s imaginations - and desires - wild.
“Well, when you finally come to your senses, Kayla,” he traps me against the counter in the nurses’ lounge, “you know where to find me.”
“You mean when I finally lose my mind?” I peer up at him. “You’ll be the first one I call. Until then, I’ll pass,” I hiss seductively, teasing the shit out of him. Dev’s electric-blue eyes brighten. We’ve been doing his little dance for months. Since the first day we met, actually, nearly a year ago. As much as he tries to get in my pants, we’re friends as much as we are colleagues. And he’s harmless, really, unless you get into bed with him. I mean, so I’ve heard.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I push him lightly. “I have a date with the gym.”
“There’s that word again.” He steps back and crosses his arms.
“What word?”
“Date. You need commitment to be intimate, huh?”
“Call me old-fashioned, but I do require some level of commitment before I lie on my back and spread my legs.”
“Oh.” Dev grabs his junk. “Be careful with the visuals, Nurse Kincade. Or I’ll have to reconsider my stance on commitment while I jerk off in the men’s room.”
“You’re an idiot.” I hit him on the arm. “If your patients only knew what a pervert you really are.”
“I have everyone fooled.” He smiles wickedly, showing his pearly-white teeth. “Perception is everything.”
“That statement is false. You don’t have me fooled. I see the wolf you really are.”
“Wolf? Now I’m picturing you lying down, spread-eagle, wearing a red cape. You really are a dirty tease, Kayla. How am I supposed to concentrate now with that image burned into my brain?”
“I don’t know. I guess you’re just going to have to be creative,” I reply without any remorse. Dev really makes it too easy.
“I love creative,” he insinuates, his eyes flashing wantonly.
I laugh at him. “Your kinkiness knows no bounds.”
“If I were fucking you, then that would definitely be true.” He wraps his fingers around my forearm.
I peer up at Dev heedfully. “Then I guess it’s a good thing our relationship is strictly platonic. I wouldn’t want to distract you from work any more than I already do.”
“I would welcome that distraction any day.” He leans into me, and I get a strong whiff of his fresh scent- clean, like warm laundry.
“I have to go, and you have rounds.” I fidget uncomfortably. He’s way too close, and if I’m being honest, a little too tempting. I have a strict rule. No bikers. Even if they are gorgeous, smart, funny, and you picture them every time you masturbate.
I may stick to my guns, but I’m still human.
“Being an adult is such a downer sometimes.” He steps back and retrieves his tablet off the counter.
“Aww. Don’t get too discouraged. I’m sure you’ll find someone to keep your motorcycle warm
.”
“Kayla.” Dev snatches my arm as I start to walk away. “Is it really because I ride a bike?” He gazes down at me in all his strange, professional, edgy glory.
“It’s a big part,” I admit wistfully.
“One day, you are going to have to explain why.”
I look away, the painful memory exhuming itself like a dead hand from the grave.
“Maybe one day.” I pacify him, slipping my arm from his grasp.
“You working on the floor tomorrow?” Dev asks as he walks backward toward the door.
“I’m here all week,” I inform like the circus act I am, grabbing my coffee from the microwave. I was reheating it before he took the liberty of interrupting me.
“Tomorrow then.” He winks as he spins on his heel and disappears out the doorway.
Once he’s gone, I inhale a collective breath. As much as I hate to admit it, the man is wearing on me, and his persistence has an appeal.
I grab my backpack hastily off the chair and sling it over my shoulder as I walk out of the room. What I really need is a nice long run to clear my head, and there’s a treadmill at the gym with my name on it.
It’s a little after five p.m. when I leave the hospital. It’s early June and the weather is perfection. Upper seventies with a slight summer breeze. As I climb into my white H3, I toss my bag onto the passenger’s seat and contemplate skipping the gym completely. Maybe I’ll go running outside instead.
I pull out of the parking garage and drive through the small town Mercy Medical is situated in. It’s a modest size hospital but has all the essentials. I’ve worked as a per diem nurse for the last two years; I love the freedom and the diversity. It’s allowed me to work in every area of the hospital from emergency to pediatrics to cardiology. It keeps things fresh. Cardiology is where I spend most of my time. It’s also where I met Dev. He’s the newest cardiologist on staff, but you’d never know it by the way he runs the place. We hit it off from our first shift together, and he wasn’t shy about hitting on me. That’s sort of a no-no, doctors and nurses fooling around, but it happens all the time. You have to be careful which stockroom you walk into on any given day. I’ve caught Dev with his pants around his ankles more times than I care to admit. Once, he even invited me to join.
Keep This Promise Page 142