by T. K. Leigh
“Anything outside of Manhattan is an arduous journey,” she responds.
“Typical New Yorker,” Lincoln quips, draping his arm along Chloe’s shoulders, kissing her temple. “Which is why I love ya, babe.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” She winks.
I smile at them, then shift my attention to Nora, who gazes into the distance. I know how she feels right now. She’s the last single woman in our little circle. Granted, Asher and I are only dating, but this relationship is different from any of my previous ones. Which was why I didn’t hesitate when he asked me to move in…officially.
“What time does your flight leave tomorrow?” I ask, getting Nora’s attention.
She tears her eyes toward us, forcing a smile. “Eight a.m.”
“So you’re really doing it…,” Evie muses.
“Why not? Everyone celebrates their wedding with a honeymoon. I should celebrate my divorce with a divor-cation. Plus, I always wanted to drive Route 66. It’s what I hoped to do on my honeymoon with Jeremy. But he wanted to go somewhere tropical where cabana boys served drinks.” She winces. “Now I know why. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. This trip is exactly what I need. Sort of a restart.”
“Well, I know this is a party for Izzy and Asher,” Evie announces, retrieving a gift bag from beneath the patio table, “but we all chipped in and got you a little something for your trip,”
Nora hesitantly takes it. “I’ve seen the gifts you guys give. I’m not sure I want it.”
“You’re probably right,” Chloe interjects. “But it may come in useful.”
“Is it safe to open up here?” She glances over her shoulder toward where Grams socializes with my parents, Jessie and Emilia laughing at something she just said, Emilia’s daughter giggling next to her.
Ever since Emilia appeared out of nowhere, Jessie has been up in New Hampshire every chance he gets. While I haven’t seen anything overtly amorous between them, I sense it’s headed that way. I’d hoped Avery would be able to make it today, if for no other reason than to meet Emilia, but her son is moving back into his dorm at Northwestern this weekend. Regardless, we’ve stayed in touch. In a way, it feels like I did find my mother, especially when she tells me stories about her.
“Trust me. Grams has seen much worse.” Asher takes a sip of his drink. “She probably owns much worse,” he mutters.
“Your Grams is a rockstar,” Evie states. “When I’m ninety, I want to be like her.”
“Don’t we all,” I remark.
“Okay.” Nora exhales deeply. “Here goes nothing.” She rummages through the bag and pulls out the first gift, scrunching her nose. “Maps? What did you hide inside?” She flips the slim package around, scrutinizing it to figure out what kind of kinky gift we disguised within its pages. “Butt plugs?”
“Nope.” Evie holds her head high. “They’re just maps. Complete with turn-by-turn directions of Route 66. We were reading up and found out a lot of the route isn’t marked. So those maps will help you stay on the old road as much as possible.”
“There’s an app you can download, too,” Chloe adds. “But since you’re going old school with driving Route 66, we figured maybe you’d like something tangible to hold on to.”
“This is perfect.” Nora beams, clutching them to her chest. Then she reaches into the bag, pulling out a leather-bound journal. Her fingers trace the grooves of the words embossed in gold on the front — Let the Adventure Begin.
“We thought you’d like to journal along the way. Might help with some self-introspection,” Evie offers.
“I love it,” Nora breathes, examining the pages. “This is gorgeous. And it’s the perfect journal for this trip.” She smiles at all of us, then ruffles through the tissue in the bag. When she takes out the final gift, she bursts out laughing, her face turning red as she holds up the vibrator. “And there it is.”
“What did you expect from us?” I suggest. “For those lonely nights when you’re staying in a sketchy motel room. Trust me. That thing will make you forget your name.”
“It’s true,” Asher offers. “Izzy tested out dozens to find the best one before ordering that for you. We ran a series of experiments. It was a grueling few days.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was absolutely torture for you,” Nora quips, and we all erupt in laughter. Then she stands, giving each of us a hug. “You girls are the best friends anyone could ask for. I don’t know how I would have survived these past few months without you.”
“We didn’t do anything.” Evie rests her hand on Nora’s bicep.
“You were there,” she replies in earnest.
“And we always will be.” Chloe wraps an arm around her, and the four of us hug, leaving our guys out of this special moment.
It doesn’t matter what we go through, what disagreements we may have. We’ll always be there for each other. I suppose that’s all anyone can ask for.
“I’m not cleaning a damn thing tonight,” I moan as I flop onto the couch in the living room after all our guests are gone. “I’m rethinking this whole homeownership thing. I don’t like entertaining.”
Asher lifts my legs, then sits next to me, setting my feet on his lap. “Then we’ll pay someone to entertain for us.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“And don’t worry about cleaning. I have a crew booked for tomorrow. Actually, Jessie booked them, but I’m going to take credit for it.”
I laugh, then whimper when he rubs the arch of my foot, flexing the muscle, savoring in his touch. I could probably die happy right now. There’s something incredibly orgasmic about a man rubbing my feet.
“He’s always good like that,” I murmur, closing my eyes. “You’d be lost without him.”
“No question about that.”
Despite all the lies and truths that were revealed over these past several months, Jessie and Asher came out the other side strong. Maybe even stronger, especially now that Jessie found Emilia. There’s no doubt in my mind he never truly loved me. Not when I see the unequivocal devotion in his eyes whenever he catches a glimpse of Emilia. Not to mention how fantastic he is with her daughter. I never took Jessie for the type who’d want kids. I figured the second they spilled something on his suit, he’d flip out. Again, I was wrong about him.
Or maybe I was wrong for him.
“So where are you off to next week?” I ask, cutting through the comfortable silence.
“Somewhere in the middle of the country. I’ve lost track at this point. All I know is I have a car coming for me at ten Friday morning and I’m flying to Dallas.”
“Oh, Texas. I bet those Texas girls are going to love them some Asher York.”
He flashes me that same panty-dropping smile that had me wanting to drop my panties the first time I saw him. “Perhaps, but there’s only one woman I care about loving me.” He leans toward me, his lips hovering close to mine. “And that’s you.”
“You know I love you. But not Asher York.”
He angles away. “What do you mean?”
“I know the real Asher. And that’s the man I fell in love with. This whole music thing is a nice bonus.”
“So you’d still love me even if I never wrote another song for you?”
“Why do you ask?” I playfully bat my lashes. “Did you write me a song?”
“You should know by now, Izzy. They’re all for you.” His lips touch mine in a soft kiss before he pulls back. “But I’d like your opinion on something I’ve been working on.”
“Okay.” As much as I’d love to lounge on the couch as he rubs my feet, I can’t resist when he sits at the piano or strums the guitar. I love watching him perform. And I’m lucky enough to be treated to a private concert anytime I want.
“Okay.” He places a kiss on my nose, then stands. I sit up as he pads toward one of his guitars, grabbing it before returning to the couch. He checks the tuning and makes a few adjustments before looking at me. Drawing a deep breath, he positions his fingers on t
he frets, then a slow, lilting melody fills the room. I relax into the cushions, the sound of Asher’s voice putting me at ease.
“I can’t promise it will be easy
Or that we’ll never fight.
I can’t promise dark clouds will stay away
Or that it will only be blue skies and smooth sailing.
But I can promise my undying love,
An eternity of devotion, a lifetime of passion.
I promise I’ll always be by your side through any crisis
If you’ll be my boomerang, my always…my wife.”
I shoot up, spine straight, jaw dropping, eyes widening as his words ring around me. I almost want to ask him to sing that again. There’s no way he just said that, is there? He continues the next verse, but I don’t hear it, can’t register the lyrics. The smirk on his face tells me he finds amusement in my reaction. When he reaches the last line of the chorus once more, he leans into me, lips brushing against mine.
“I promise to be your friend, your family, your life.
Please, be my wife.”
“Did you really just say that?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything further.
Pulling back, he sets the guitar beside the couch. When he gets down on one knee in front of me, there’s no longer a question in my mind about whether those lyrics were there on purpose.
“Isabella Delaney Nolan…” He takes my left hand in his, everything about him sincere. “When I saw you from across the room at a dirty club in Boston, it felt like I was listening to a song for the first time and knew it would always be my favorite. And that’s what you’ve become to me over the years. My favorite kiss. My favorite good morning. My favorite sunrise. My favorite person. My favorite goodnight.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he licks his lips. “But there’s one thing I no longer want you to be my favorite.”
“What’s that?” My voice trembles.
He frames my face in his hands, his grasp determined. “I don’t want you to be my favorite almost. There’s nothing almost about you, about us. Not anymore. From this day forward, I want you to be my favorite always. Officially.”
He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a black velvet box. He flips it open to reveal a stunning princess cut diamond flanked on either side by smaller stones, then even more diamonds inlaid into the band.
“It’s so shiny,” I laugh through my tears.
“That’s what I told the jeweler when I picked it out. Told them I needed the shiniest setting.”
I roll my eyes. “No, you didn’t.”
“You’re right. I didn’t have to. I knew exactly what you wanted. So, what do you say? Will you be my muse for the rest of my life?”
I nod quickly, touching my lips to his. “Yes,” I say against his mouth. “I’ll be your forever muse. Your favorite always.” I swallow hard. “Your favorite wife.”
His muscles relax as he kisses me with even more determination, taking my left hand in his and slipping on the ring, not tearing his lips from me. His tongue swipes mine, and I tug him on top of me as I lower myself to my back. When he grinds his hips, I moan.
“Wait.” He pulls back. I dart my eyes open, meeting his, my brows pulled in. Then a salacious smile crosses his mouth as he waggles his brows. “There are a few things I should mention. Job requirements if you’re to be my full-time muse. A few things Jessie must have left off the last time you accepted employment for this position.”
I pinch my lips together, giving him a playful look. “Is that right?”
He erases the distance between us, covering my mouth with his. “I’ll need you to lay on the couch after you come home from a long day at work while I rub all your sore muscles.”
“That sounds exhausting, but I’ll do my best.” I breathe deeply as he makes his way to my neck, his scruff grazing my skin.
“Every morning, you’ll need to rest in bed while I bring you breakfast.”
“Now you’re getting demanding.” I throw my head back as he continues slithering down my body, lifting the hem of my shirt, peppering kisses along my stomach.
“And if we ever have children, you’ll need to take some time for yourself while I change their diapers, read to them, and rock them to sleep.”
“You’re an absolute slave driver,” I groan as he trails his tongue just above the waistband of my jeans, then dipping into my belly button. “But I must say, the employment package is rather…enticing.”
He breaks into a throaty laugh. I can’t help but join in, everything about this moment exactly as I imagined it would be.
“God, I love you.” He lifts his eyes to mine.
“And I love you.”
A breathtaking smile builds at the declaration he’s heard hundreds of times by now. But there’s something different in his gaze this time. It’s a look of peace unlike any I’ve seen. It’s the same look I always noticed crawl across my father’s face whenever he walked into the house and saw my mother. She’d always go to him and give him a kiss that may have bordered on inappropriate as she welcomed him home. Even if they weren’t physically in the house I grew up in, she’d still greet him the same way.
Home isn’t four walls and a door. It’s a feeling.
It’s this feeling.
Sure, we’ll have fights. We’ll get mad. We’ll have moments when we’ll want to throw in the towel. But at the end of the day, we’ll always have our love, a boomerang, and an origami dove.
“Welcome home, Asher,” I murmur as I grab the back of his neck and bring his lips to mine.
“Welcome home, Isabella.”
Thank you for reading DANGEROUS GAMES! I hope you enjoyed Izzy and Asher’s story. The final book in the Dating Games series is coming soon - Nora’s story. Be sure to reserve your copy of Royal Games today.
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Royal Games
Pre-order Nora’s story here.
Every girl dreams of falling in love with a prince.
When I met Jeremy, I thought he was my prince.
Caring. Compassionate. Sensitive.
And, unfortunately for me… Not attracted to women.
So here I am, thirty years old and divorced when most of my friends are just getting married. In desperate need of a restart, I set off on a road trip to learn how to love myself again.
The last thing I expected was to meet him.
Anderson North.
Mysterious. Enigmatic. Sexy as hell.
And, after a malfunction with my rental car, my new road companion.
As we travel the miles along Route 66, I find myself experiencing a connection I never have, even with Jeremy. We share our truths, our secrets, our fears.
Can I give this man a piece of my heart after having it broken?
Can I learn to trust again after having that trust betrayed?
When his deepest secret is revealed, can I look beyond the lies and toward the only thing that matters?
I’ve always dreamed of finding my very own Prince Charming. Maybe my prince is Anderson North.
Free Book!
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When I stepped on that flight to Rome, I never could have imagined the man sitting across the aisle from me would tilt my world on its axis.
He claimed it was fate that brought us together.
But I never believed in such notions.
That was something for the dreamers, the romantics, not someone as practical and pragmatic as I.
Fate had nothing to do with me walking in on my soon-to-be husband in a compromising position with his secretary.
Fate had nothing to do with me hopping on a plane to Rome, effectively standing up my former fianc
é on our wedding day.
And fate certainly had nothing to do with the handsome stranger sitting across the aisle from me, one who would open my mind and heart to things I never thought possible.
Because if fate is real, she's cruel and unforgiving.
I thought I'd left my past behind when I stepped onto that plane.
I was a fool to think I could ever truly escape my past.
Not when it's so viciously intertwined with my present.
Commitment
In the mood for another love triangle between two lifelong friends? Check out this sneak peek at Commitment. Grab your copy here.
Brooklyn
“It all starts with a decision.”
Aunt Gigi has said those words to me countless times over the course of my thirty-two years.
“After all,” she would continue to say, “you’re always just one decision away from a completely different life.”
As I sit in my car, I’m unsure why I’m thinking about this right now. Where would I be if I didn’t have a father who pushed me to be the best I could be? Where would I be if I hadn’t looked up when a handsome man approached me one day, re-igniting something I thought I’d never feel again? Where would I be if my mother had waited five more minutes to run to the store the night she was killed by a drunk driver?