The What If Guy
Page 20
“And you’re still going to check out The Magpie? The bar I told you about?”
Fitz nods. “You did say there were hot bartenders there.”
Ransom laughs, slapping Fitz on the shoulder. “Is that literally your only criteria for going to a bar?”
Fitz shoots him a serious stare. “Don’t even try to pretend that it isn’t yours.”
Ransom raises both hands. “Guilty as charged.” He reaches for his drink. “To one last fling before our pact.”
Fitz lifts his can and taps it to Ransom’s. “I will drink to that.”
Oliver simply smiles. “I’ll stay out of that one. Happily.”
“Me too,” I say.
Fitz rolls his eyes. “How the mighty have fallen. I guess it’s up to Ransom and me to maintain the single life.”
“Good luck with that. I can’t wait till you fall hard for some guy,” I tell Fitz.
“As if.” He snorts.
“His whole worldview will go tits up when he falls in love,” Oliver says, grinning. “It’ll be bloody fantastic.”
“It will be absolutely fucking epic,” Ransom adds.
Fitz just laughs, shaking his head like it’ll never happen.
But something tells me it will.
Epilogue
Bryn
* * *
Next year
* * *
A postcard icon blinks at the top of my cell phone screen. Immediately, a spark shimmies across my shoulders.
I show the screen to Bruce. “Someone is looking for me. Who do you think it is?”
He licks his paw as I click on the envelope.
* * *
Seeking Woman Who Likes Mojitos:
* * *
Last night, you were wearing a red dress with a zipper all the way down the back. You danced to a band named The Incident and The Accident. (Thank God the band took my advice when I wrote to them, and added a “The.”) You looked so damn sensual that I spent the rest of the show imagining unzipping that dress, licking a path down your back, and biting the sweet flesh of your ass.
* * *
I can arrange to undress you, bite you, kiss you, take you, and put you on your knees every night for seven days. During the day, we’ll travel across Canada together, exploring the countryside, checking out souvenir shops, and seeing all the off-the-beaten-path destinations together.
* * *
Would you like to take a road trip on a train with me?
* * *
From,
The Guy Who Unzipped Your Dress Last Night When You Came Home with Me
* * *
I show it to Bruce. “What’s my answer? What say you, pussycat?”
Bruce switches to his other paw, and I reply to Logan. It’s become our thing. We still post on Made Connections, leaving sexy and romantic notes for each other, listing things we’ve done and things we want to do.
It keeps the fire burning bright. That’s not hard, though, when you already have the four key components to a forever relationship: trust, honesty, laughter, and great sex.
Though there’s a fifth too.
Love, and we have that as well.
* * *
Dear Mr. Unzip Me Now,
* * *
The answer is yes, and I look forward to the sleeper car.
* * *
Xoxo
A few weeks later, we board the train for our “road trip.” It’s the second time we’ve taken one. A year ago, we traveled by rail through New England, then hunkered down in a cabin in Maine for four days. It was glorious.
And today, it’s glorious too, as porters load our suitcases and Logan and I head into the first-class car on a train that’ll take us across the country.
I open the door to our sleeper cabin, eyeing the bed. “What do you think, Mr. Smolder?”
He wiggles his brows. “Why don’t you check under the covers?”
I shoot him a what are you talking about look. “For what? A mint? Bedbugs?”
“Hopefully it’s more like a mint.”
I tug at the covers, yanking them back. My breath flees my lungs when I find a royal-blue velvet box.
Hope rushes through me.
“Is this for me . . .?”
“Yes,” he says in a soft, low voice filled with wishes.
I take it, flip it open, and gasp.
When I turn around, Logan Clarke is down on one knee. “When I met you, the only thing I regretted was not getting your name and number soon enough. But we found each other. We made the connection, and every day I’m so glad we did. Because the last year and a half with you has been the best of my life. There’s been so much trust, honesty, and laughter that I sometimes can’t believe it’s real. But it is. Every day with you is so real and true,” he says. I press my lips together, but that doesn’t abate the tears. They flood my eyes, and my heart fills with happiness.
“Before I met you, Bryn, I was going through the motions. After I met you, I understood what it meant to be in love, to be happy, and to feel everything. I want to keep feeling everything with you. I hope you’ll live with me and be my wife, because I love you so much, and I want to be with you always.”
My hand presses over my heart, like I need to hold it in place lest it jumps out of my chest and into his arms. His arms—where I want to be.
“I would love to be your wife. Because I love you so much, Logan. So incredibly much.”
I hand him the box, and he takes out the stunning diamond solitaire, slides it onto my finger, then pulls me into his lap and kisses the breath out of me.
I see stars as his lips slide across mine.
And soon, very soon, I see galaxies as my fiancé makes love to me on the train, in a sleeper cabin on our very own road trip.
It’s just another way we’ve made things our own.
Epilogue
Bruce
* * *
After That
* * *
Day 1 in Solitary Confinement
* * *
This was not in Bruce’s plan.
No one ran this past him.
First, there was that infernal cat carrier. Like he was some sort of ferret.
He could handle a harness and a leash, thank you very much. But to be stuffed inside a portable cell?
To be placed in a basic sedan?
Shouldn’t he have been carried on a sacred bed in some air-conditioned, temperature-controlled limousine? That would have been more fitting for a being of his stature.
Now, here he was in some new and different place. He’d show them. He’d prove to them that those years in prison hadn’t softened him at all.
Not one bit.
He’d only been pretending to like the woman.
And the man too.
Though was it truly pretending? The man, after all, had brought him yellowtail several times. Sliced ever so delicately and served—gasp—raw.
It had been divine.
But no! He couldn’t linger on those thoughts. Bruce had been moved from his cell, the cell he had grown to think of as home, and had been placed in a new prison.
And he would let them know exactly what he thought of . . .
Meow!
Oh.
Ohhhhhh, yes.
Was that a lovely lady cat?
Hello there. That tail was so lush. So big. So soft. She smelled of catnip. And she was the finest specimen of feline he’d ever seen.
Bruce sauntered out of his cat carrier, strutted across the carpet, and sidled up against the lady.
This prison was going to be so much better.
He had a cellmate after all.
Epilogue
Queen LaTofu
* * *
A little later
* * *
Everything had worked.
It had all turned out as she’d intended.
Queen LaTofu curled up in bed that night with the man and the woman.
Well, she waited till they were, you know, done.<
br />
They were always doing it.
All the time.
So much meowing and caterwauling and noisemaking.
But the man had learned, clearly. He’d taken his tips from Queen LaTofu, and they’d worked.
Naturally.
And now she had barely needed an ounce of her charms, and the striped black cat had fallen in love with her. Here he was, leaping onto the bed, wrapping his strong body around hers, big-spooning her like the man did with the woman.
Ah, the male of the species.
They really weren’t so hard to figure out.
A bit of love, a little attention, and soon they were going on about happily ever after.
And that seemed a lot like purr-fection.
* * *
THE END
EAGER FOR RANSOM’S STORY? It’s coming in THANKS FOR LAST NIGHT! But first, dive into Fitz’s sexy story, my first ever MM romance, an irresistible, epic, passionate romance — A GUY WALKS INTO MY BAR. Order it now and learn what happens when Fitz heads to England and meets a sexy bartender who rocks his world…
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* * *
A Guy Walks Into My Bar
* * *
Every bartender should follow one simple rule—don’t go home with the customers.
That’s been easy for me to stick to, until the night a cocky, confident, and sinfully charming hockey star walks into my bar. This sexy athlete is too hard to resist, especially when he makes it clear how much he wants the “sarcastic, witty, hot AF” guy behind the bar—also known as me.
Still, I’m not keen on breaking my own rules since I know where that can lead—no place good.
But when that man makes his case with one bone-searing kiss on the streets of London, I throw resistance out the window.
What could go wrong with a hot, dirty, no-strings-attached fling before he leaves town in five days?
Trouble is, soon our nights together lead to days, to long conversations, to getting to know each other, and to something I never expected—falling ridiculously hard for a man who’s getting on a plane to America when I live a world away.
My life is here. His is there. And no amount of falling or feeling will change that one big problem.
Warning: contains hot hotel sex, loads of dirty talk, PDA all over London, and two sexy, witty, charming alpha heroes…
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* * *
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* * *
Let me list the reasons why dating the sexy, charming pro hockey star is a bad idea:
1. He’s one of my closest friends
2. All our friends are friends
3. The wounds I’ve got from past relationships go deep. And so do his.
We’re both devoutly single -- it’s just safer for the heart that way. But there’s no reason not to bid on the gorgeous, clever athlete at the charity auction this weekend. If I win, it’ll be a "friendsdate."
And I do win.
I win him big.
And hard.
And all night long.
* * *
The trouble is . . . what happens in the morning?
* * *
Find out what happens to the last single guy standing!
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