by Cassie Leigh
“You’ll really marry me? I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”
Five months ago, she wouldn’t have thought the answer would be yes either. How could she blame him for thinking the same? “You’re the only man I could ever imagine taking that step with—the only one I can’t do without. If that doesn’t mean that I should marry you than nothing does.”
Gigi nibbled on his neck, already working her hands up under his t-shirt so that her nails gently scraped along his ribs. He shivered at her touch and she moved her hand down to his waistband, circling forward until she grasped the button at his fly. That’s where his hand closed over hers. She groaned her complaint and gave him her best puppy eyes.
He echoed her groan. “I know, beautiful. And we will, just not right now. We have dinner plans—see I had this whole thing worked out…”
“But wouldn’t you rather have me?”
Roman gripped her chin and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Always.”
That one word—such a simple clean word—coming from his lips, it made her ache in dirty ways that he hadn’t intended. Always held so much power especially now that should would have one.
His fingers trailed down her neck and breastbone, continuing down until he reached the leading edge of the ink he’d just finished. “If it depended just on me, you would already be draped across the desk in my office.” He laid a tender kiss on her lips, an apology kiss—she knew the difference now that she’d been in a relationship for the first time. “Let’s take care of your new tattoo. The sooner we go there, the sooner we can make it to your place to celebrate.”
That promise made her move. She was out of his lap, handing him the plastic and tape herself. “Well then shake it. I have needs.”
Roman had her covered and bustled out the door, straddling his bike in record speed. The grin on his face through the whole progression had one stretching her own normally serious expression to match the happy bubble she felt in her stomach. A wedding. She’d never even considered the possibility. But it was a happy one. If she wasn’t in a hurry to haul Roman home to bed, she would have asked him to head across town so that she could share the news with her mother.
They spoke every day now that Leslie had started the court battle to leave John. Lots of laughter and healing had taken place now that both women felt free to simply be. Her mother owned denim—something casual—and had started her own small business. Leslie never did lose those skills from college that John had tried to atrophy out of her so that she could be his perfect show wife.
The other half of that equation, John, thus remained convinced of his own shitshow. Gigi’s brother wasn’t speaking to their father either. When Jack came home at their mother’s request, he’d discovered the decline of the firm and started the process of transferring home so that he could take over with the full support of the other partners. Their father would not accede any of this without a fight. Gigi guessed they had only begun to see the aftershocks of her parents’ separation.
Riding on the high of the moment, they made good time and Roman parked the bike in the lot behind her building. Anticipation coiled low in answer to the vibrations of his Indian motorcycle and her own emotional high. For a moment, she thought Roman changed his mind and couldn’t wait to have her, but then he helped her down from her perch behind him. He took her hand and led her away from the lure of her apartment and the privacy of her living room—they’d never make it past the sofa the way she felt right now if they’d gone up.
“What are you up to?” Gigi asked breathless as they jogged across the street.
He grinned back at her, amber eyes glowing with that flame that fanned her own fires, but kept his thoughts to himself. Aggravating but typical. He may wear his emotions openly, but expressing them was another matter. Instead of words, he showed her every day. Now, he could only be headed one place. The question had been an unnecessary one. The bar where they began on a chance encounter—a Tinder match gone wrong—waited at the end of the block.
They came to an abrupt stop and Roman pushed her back against the wall, just outside the entrance of Red Barron. His lips crashed down over hers and that rush—the crazy feeling like she was coming apart and yet resonating in perfect tune just like she did under his needle, only all pleasure rather than pain—it crashed into her like the first time. Every time echoed through her like that. Even the soft kisses made waves instead of ripples. Now she would have this always.
He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “I should have chased you out of this bar that first night and stole you away from that douche.”
“I would have thought you were crazy. No—this is our story and I like it just fine. It’s lead to beautiful art.” She licked her lips and his eyes tracked the small movement with predatory lust. “If it makes you feel better, I did think about you that next day. I’d started to hope Chad would really stand me up.”
Roman closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m taking you in their now, before I combust and drag you back to your place. I want you to know—I’m not taking any responsibility for this part.” Before she had a chance to follow up on that statement, the door to the bar opened allowing laughter and the opening notes to a Journey power ballad to float out into the early evening.
Someone poked out his head and yelled back inside, “Their here!” It sounded like one of the guys from the shop, but she never had the chance to see before they ducked back in, taking the ambient sounds with them.
A burst of suppressed laughter bubbled out of Gigi. “Secret’s out now.” She pushed past Roman and jerked open the door herself. His hand at her waist, reminded her of his steady presence as she took it all in.
“She said YES!” Roman bellowed over the top of her head.
Everyone they knew erupted into cheers. They had quality not quantity but they showed up and they were loud. All the guys from the shop made it and the fighters from the gym that Roman hung out with, Declan who stood by giving sidelong looks to Ann who remained willfully oblivious, and of course Billy. Even her Mother stood front and center with a smile and tears that left lines on her face now that the Botox had stopped being necessary—not that it ever really was. Whoever was behind this—since Roman refused ownership—had thought of nearly everyone.
Ann broke from the group and enveloped Gigi in a hug that rocked her back into the solid wall of Roman behind her. “Let me see it!” She backed up and grabbed at Gigi’s hand, leading her further into the bar. “Roman! You did so good! I knew you two would be so amazing. Can I be in the wedding? Can I help plan? I know you like to do events but I’m the matchmaker I feel like I should have a hand in this. So can I please?”
Gigi’s face started to hurt from smiling so wide. Her precise and efficient friend, the devious schemer and career climbing badass had just come unglued like a kid. “Of course, you’re going to be my maid of honor.”
Roman’s voice cut through the laughter and happy chaos as Declan came up clapping Roman on the back and shaking his hand. “We couldn’t do this without my sister anyway. Or my best man.” He looked at Declan with one eyebrow raised and a knowing grin. Apparently devious ran in the family even without a blood tie. “You down with that, Declan? I’m not taking no for an answer, dude.”
“You caught me. How can I say no to that?” His expressed matched his words, liked he’d just walked into a trap instead of his best friend’s surprise engagement party.
Ann looked much the same. Her mouth open in a stunned little O of perfect nude lipstick, as if the implications of her initial excited request and weeks of matchmaking manipulation had caught up with her in an unexpected and unwelcome consequence and swallowed her whole.
Roman leaned down and whispered against Gigi’s neck so that his words made her skin tingle as his breath stroked her skin like one of his paintbrushes on a Wednesday. “Enjoy the show, beautiful—wait—Mrs. Bishop. It has a nice ring to it.”
Mrs. did have a lovely ring to it—and now so did Mr. Forever.
PLAYLIST
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THE LIST OF SONGS THAT shaped my words for Gigi and Roman evolved over the course of writing this book, but they were always on auto repeat until I finally typed out “the end”. Enjoy the mood music.
Shape of You – Ed Shereen
Sing – Ed Sheeran
Say Is Right – Nelly Furtado
Don’t Cha – The Pussycat Dolls
Make It Rain – Ed Sheeran
Sucker For Pain – Little Wayne, Wiz Khalifa, & Imagine Dragons
Gangsta – Kehlani
Don’t – Ed Sheeran
In Your Arms – Nico & Vinz
Guys My Age – Hey Violent
Sour Times – Covered by The Civil Wars
Gravity – Sara Bareilles
Whatever We Started – Richard Marx
Love Bites – Def Leppard
How Will I Know – Covered by Sam Smith
Everything – Alanis Morissette
I know – Fiona Apple
I’m Ready (MTV Unplugged Version) – Bryan Adams
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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CASSIE LEIGH WRITES CONTEMPORARY AND paranormal romance that’s more than skin deep. Before she could write, she began dreaming up stories. Starting with recorded conversations for her dolls on a Fisher-Price cassette player, she moved on to an antique typewriter found at a garage sale, then an electric typewriter, and finally computers. It wasn’t until she picked up romance novels in her late twenties that she found where she belonged. With the help of her husband, she carves out time to write while raising five children, working full time and obsessing over her laundry list of eccentric passions. Every new obsession seems to find its way into her romance world!
Want more? You can connect with Cassie Leigh online.
https://facebook.com/cassieleighauthor/
https://twitter.com/cassieleigh322/
https://books.pronoun.com/cassieleighauthor/
https://broken.typerwriter.press/
https://sassy.typewriter.press/
To get the inside track on new releases, sign up for her newsletter through the website
https://cassieleighauthor.com/
SNEAK PEEK…
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DO YOU LIKE A GOOD GHOST STORY WITH YOUR ROMANCE?
CHECK OUT THE HAUNTED ROMANCE SERIES BY CASSIE LEIGH
Until Death Do Us Part
Available now from Broken Typewriter Press
The veil between life and death will part to bring two souls together…
MILLIE was a lonely spirit with no one but her house to keep her company. That changed the day the handsome new owner of her precious home moved in and said hello. She never thought she would have a chance to fall in love again. Now she is chipping away at her past and turning away from the light she thought she was waiting for. There is just one problem; the love of her afterlife is engaged.
Turn the page for a sneak peek.
Millie spied the real-estate agent through the rosette window of the attic. She loathed the balding relic that now lumbered up the sidewalk since the day he brought developers to tear down her home. Reason told her she should welcome that fool. He could be bringing potential company into her life. She turned away from the window where she sat perched day in and day out. It made her ache with sadness to see the proud farmhouse that she spent her youth in sit empty, no furniture or voices filling it up. But her feelings were not enough to make her welcome the agent.
Twin metallic clunks from outside broke through the stillness of the morning and sent a fluttering sensation running through Millie’s midsection. She paced the dusty pine planks; the prospect of new life carried her nearer the door on each pass. She didn’t need to look. It would be better if she kept her distance up here in the attic. Unexplained cold spots and footsteps that had no apparent source tended to scare people away.
When the jingle of keys and muffled voices echoed up the stairs, her curiosity won out. Surely, she could get a glimpse of them from the stairs. There was no need to go down.
The front door closed with a thud that reverberated through Millie.
The droning voice of the real-estate agent assaulted her ears. “It’s a fixer upper but the neighborhood is quiet and it’s in one of the better school systems.”
Millie rushed to the landing and leaned over the carved wooden banister. “Don’t you mess this up,” she shouted down at the agent, whose heavy footsteps she heard lurking in the front room. “Tell these people what a lovely home this was. I’m sick to the teeth of being alone.”
Millie blew out a long breath, a habit that was no longer necessary. Why did she bother, the real-estate agent couldn’t hear her. She rubbed her hands along the polished rail. It couldn’t hurt to go down and take a peek at who the inept fool brought this time. Millie shifted back and forth on the balls of her feet, unable to hold still. No, they’ll come to her. She just needed patience—a commodity she had precious little of, unlike time.
“The more we see, the better I like this house.” A man’s clear baritone echoed off the bare walls of the kitchen in tandem with the banging of cabinet doors. Millie supposed the man behind it was going through opening and closing them as he considered his purchase.
The potential buyer walked into the entryway, leading a woman by the hand towards the stairs where Millie sat. To the diminutive Millie, he seemed tall and dark. When he glanced up the stairs, sharp blue eyes met her own. Even from this distance, Millie felt captive to the vitality that filled them. Though she knew better, she felt as if there was something in that look just for her, some message she wasn’t grasping.
He looked away, back at the woman he came with. The absence of his gaze broke whatever unlikely cord of communion had been strung between him and Millie. He couldn’t have seen her, no one ever did. Millie’s cheeks tingled, remarkably like blushing, if that had been possible. She raised a hand to her cold cheek. He certainly was the best-looking man that the portly agent had ever brought through her home and closer to Millie’s age than most of them.
“Noah, I really don’t want something that needs this much work,” said the man’s companion. “I just wanted to walk in after the wedding to our picture perfect starter home.” The woman’s blonde ponytail swayed as she shook her head.
The woman wore a modern, soft pink sweater that came down to mid-thigh of her form-fitting denim. Millie looked down at her own shapeless ivory dress. It hung past her white stocking-clad knees. Perhaps Millie could have had a better husband if she had been as attractive.
Noah started up the stairs, hand in hand with his future wife. They must have money, Millie assumed, because he appeared as richly dressed as the pretty blonde, with her collared shirt and pullover sweater. Her working-class husband and father would have called him a well-to-do lawyer’s son, or maybe a banker. Definitely not the kind of man Millie was used to being around.
Mindful not to touch the couple as they passed her, Millie scooted out of the way. She made no effort to conceal herself further. The woman looked past Millie into the bathroom, appearing completely unaware of her presence. Noah looked right at Millie. She gasped and then ducked behind an open bedroom door, kneeling down. Her heart racing, she peered through the gap below the hinge. When Noah continued into the first bedroom without comment, Millie sighed in relief and moved back into the hall.
He must have been looking though her. It was silly on her part to continue deluding herself that he could actually see her. Just an over-active imagination brought on by decades of loneliness, she chided herself. Only children ever noticed her and usually only the very young. She took extra care not to frighten the little darlings.
“What do you think of this one for the master, Claire?” Noah asked.
“The closet is so small and the carpet has to go. It’ll kill my allergies and my asthma will flare up,” she whined in reply. Her cheeks sucked in and her mouth pursed in
a pretty pout.
“I can fix that,” Noah promised. He began to count off the benefits on strong hands that appeared rough and used to work, much to Millie’s surprise. “Just think of the possibilities. This house is under budget and we were only looking for three bedrooms; this house has four. The room adjoining this one could be turned into a master bath and walk in closet.”
His plan sounded lovely to Millie. Someone to care for her home and remake it into a special place again, like it had been before her life had fallen apart.
“I don’t want to live in a construction zone.” Claire crossed her arms in front of her chest and took a step back. “I want move-in ready.”
Millie’s jaw dropped and she drifted up beside Claire. “Be reasonable, not every man offers to do something so monumental, you silly woman. Don’t you see how lucky you are?” Millie asked, waving her hands in agitation.
“You’ll have that.” Noah reached out, resting his hand on Claire’s arm. “We have three month’s until the wedding. All I need is eight weeks.”
“I’m listening.” Claire looked away, as if only humoring him.
He moved in close, his voice lowered to a whisper. “I’ll move in and start working. You stay in your place and focus on the wedding. You’ll move in when we get back from Hawaii.”
Mille held her breath, her hands tented together and covering her mouth as she drifted backwards into the hall. Was it too much to hope that this seemingly ungrateful woman would accept such a generous offer from her betrothed?
Claire sighed and her arms dropped to her sides. “Well, I’ll get to pick my own finishes. I couldn’t do that in a house that’s already done, there’s that at least.”
Millie clapped in excitement and spun happily. Finally, some company.
Noah grinned and grabbed for Claire’s hand. “I knew you’d see. Let’s talk to Bob and put in our offer.”
Millie beamed with hope from her spot in the hallway. Noah pulled Claire behind him, striding with purpose to the stairs. Millie stepped back out of the way until her waist pressed against the handrail. Noah returned Millie’s smile with genuine warmth and a slight nod, silently offering a hello. He didn’t pause as he continued down the stairs, leaving Millie disoriented. Her own smile slipped away. Did he see her after all?