“Are you sure it’s not because you can’t trust yourself not to go out and fling yourself at him?” I tease.
“You know me, Vince.”
I do know her. My brain is wading through days of light beer, trying its hardest to absorb this new info. “Did he agree?”
“Ha. Not exactly. He said it’s a free country and he can run wherever he chooses. But he did amend that if I can’t stomach seeing him without feeling waves of regret, he’d do me the service of running elsewhere.”
My arms tighten around her. “I see him run by here again, I’ll make it so he’s physically incapable of running at all.”
She puts her hand on my jaw and my anger with Jaundice recedes like Bruce Willis’s badass hairline. “I made a mistake when I went out with him. I made a mistake when I assumed you and Leslie did more than talk. What’d you talk about, Vince? I heard a rumor you talked about me.”
My eyebrows climb my forehead in surprise.
“Davis came by and told me you were in love with me, but only after I told him I was in love with you.”
I hear a click and figure it’s my brain turning on the lightbulb over my head.
She loves me.
“Say that again, Butler. Slower.” I tip my chin to take her in. All of her. From her long brown hair to the sexy black wrap dress. She’s tempting me—and she’s not even trying.
On a whisper, she leans in and repeats in a seductive tone, “I talked to Davis.”
Smart-ass.
“Not that part.”
Then she grins, knowing what I need, and finally, finally gives it to me. “I’m in love with you, Vince Carson. Only you. I love your penchant for old movies, and the way you always burn the popcorn, and how you can’t decide where to eat when you’re hangry.”
I smile.
“And the way you make love to me on the stairs,” she whispers.
My smile turns gooey right along with my heart.
Her lips lower to mine and I’m lost. Fingers in her hair, I kiss her as deeply and fully as I’ve wanted to for three lonely weeks. I’m starving for her, and it takes me a moment to remember we aren’t somewhere I can strip her out of her fantastic dress and make her shout my name on a cry of pleasure.
My fingers halt on the knot of the fabric belt keeping her dress closed. “Hell of a place to break this to me. Not a bed in sight.”
“It was either tell you here or follow you home like a stalker.”
“You’re the pro,” I joke. “I still want you to follow me home, though. Maybe stay there for the weekend.”
Or forever, my mind adds, but I’m trying to keep my cool.
“The weekend at least.” She kisses me sweetly. “Longer is preferable.”
Ah, hell, I love that she’s no cooler than I am.
“Longer as in the following week? Or longer as in”—I squeeze her waist with my arm—“forever?” She smiles but I don’t let her answer. “Now that I have you in my arms admitting how wrong you were about letting me go, I’m thinking you’re a keeper.”
“You were thinking that way before I screwed up. Remember? Back when your brilliant plan was to set me up with J.T. and then swoop in when he inevitably hurt me?”
Chagrined, I cringe. “We bumbled our way here, didn’t we, Butler?”
“ ‘Once upon a time’ always starts with bumbling, if you think about it.”
I consider the fairy tales I’ve heard and decide she’s right.
“That’s what makes the ‘happily ever after’ so worth it.” She ruffles my hair. “Want to go to McGreevy’s Pub for a celebratory cocktail?”
“If by McGreevy’s Pub you mean my house, and by cocktail you mean sweaty, hot makeup sex”—I stand, scooping her into my arms as she yips a happy laugh—“then yes, I’d love to.”
“As usual, Vince, you read my mind.”
I open the door to leave, and walk into a crowd of coworkers who are standing just outside the door. Kayla looks the guiltiest—but in her defense, also the happiest with that giant smile on her face. I put Jackie down and she skims a hand over her dress and straightens her skirt.
There’s a moment of silence before Ron starts a slow-clap, reminding me of any one of the rom-coms Jackie and I have watched on my sofa over the past year. My sofa, I think, as she curtsies for the cheering crowd, then beams up at me.
Jackie’s the only girl who belongs on it.
Once upon a time…or, well, in June of 2016…my husband and I were on a Tennessee vacation with a group of close friends. We’d just bellied up to the bar and ordered drinks when a man jogged by the huge glass windows. My husband pointed him out, watching me as I watched the runner—in his gorgeous, splendid, shirtless glory—dash by outside and disappear out of sight. My beloved wore a smirk when my eyes came back to his. Then he said, “You’re welcome,” because he knew he’d gifted me the mother of all plot bunnies.
John Lemmon, this book wouldn’t exist without you. Thanks, babe.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, thanks to God. I continue walking in faith, and You never fail to place the next brick on the path before me. All I have I owe to You.
Thank you, nameless jogging guy who ran by the Whiskey Kitchen that sweltering June day, for making me ask the question “What if…?”
Thanks to Sue and Gina at Loveswept for loving this book. Knowing you were excited made it that much more fun to finish! To my agent, Nicole, who, when I blurted out that I had a few pages of meandering prose about a runner, hooked onto the idea with both hands and found it a home. Author besties, Lauren Layne and Shannon Richard, thank you for your help and, as always, for your friendship.
And of course, to the readers who love my books and continue to read them, I wouldn’t be here without you!
BY JESSICA LEMMON
Real Love
Eye Candy
Arm Candy
Man Candy
Lost Boys
Fighting for Devlin
Shut Up and Kiss Me
Other Books
Forgotten Promises
PHOTO: NICHOLAS LONG
A former job-hopper, JESSICA LEMMON resides in Ohio with her husband and rescue dog. She holds a degree in graphic design currently gathering dust in an impressive frame. When she’s not writing about super sexy heroes, she can be found cooking, drawing, drinking coffee (okay, wine), and eating potato chips. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want.
jessicalemmon.com
Facebook.com/AuthorJessicaLemmon
Twitter: @lemmony
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