by A. J. Pine
Brynn held up her hands in surrender but then gave her a knowing grin.
“Have you asked him yet?”
Annie’s brows furrowed.
“About helping us out—getting some of his author friends to host signings at the shop. I’m glad you’re enjoying whatever is going on between you two, but I just don’t want you to forget about Two Stories.”
Annie’s gut twisted. She had forgotten—or at least, she hadn’t let herself remember. He’d already been her pity date at the wedding. She didn’t want him to see her as poor Annie who can’t find love or keep her store above water.
“I promise I’ll get some names from him,” she said, forcing a smile. It must have worked because Brynn smiled, too.
“You comin’, Emerald City?” she asked.
“In a sec,” Annie said, and Brynn’s smile softened before she turned and headed down the stairs.
Maybe it was cheesy, but so what if she thought Emerald City was the nicest thing any guy had ever called her? So what if her heart sped up just because he’d said it? So what if she was starting to hope he might want more than fun when, at the moment, all he worried about was others finding out they were sneaking around like a couple of horny teens?
This wasn’t a relationship. It was an arrangement. Silly things like hoping for more were erased from the picture before things even began. Stricken from the record. So what if it was her brilliant idea in the first place? All that meant was that if and when this backfired in her face—and let’s face it, she was Annie Denning, so the odds were high—she’d have no one to be angry at other than herself.
But if she messed things up for the store—for the working relationship with her and Brynn? She’d never be able to forgive herself for that.
She glanced at her distorted image in the whiskey bottle and mumbled under her breath.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
Secret Friends with Benefits
by HappyEverAfter admin | Leave a comment
Hi there, everyone! So, I’m beta reading this book, which isn’t a book but is actually my life where the hero and heroine have agreed to a mutually beneficial secret sexual relationship. The hero doesn’t believe in HEAs and the heroine whole-heartedly does. So—they’re totally wrong for each other, right? Except the heroine is me, and I’m afraid I like this guy more than I’ll admit, which means it’s gonna hurt like hell when this backfires. The heroine has a secret agenda to make the hero fall in love—you know, to prove to him that happily ever after does, in fact, exist. But to make him fall in love with her means admitting she has feelings for him as well. It’s—messy, to say the least. Unless he realizes that love conquers all, that all you need is love, and whatever other love clichés I can come up with. I’d like to take a poll, readers. Can a heroine force her hero into believing love is all you need, or does the hero need to choose love himself before he chooses her? Because really I just want you to corroborate that I can do this and not get hurt. That’s not too much to ask, is it?
COMMENTS:
HEAlove says: IMO, hero has to figure it out for himself first. Can’t wait to hear how the author deals with this, even if it is a beta read and not an official review yet. Because the hero can still fall in love but not choose love, you know?
6:02 p.m.
RomancingTheShelf says: A strong heroine doesn’t have to trick the hero into falling for her. He will because she’s the one he’s supposed to fall for.
6:44 p.m.
bookswinefeels says: Sounds like the hero needs to get knocked on his ass by love. I hope she’s the one to do it!
7:17 p.m.
11 more replies…
Annie decided to stop reading the comments right there. That’s all she needed—one loyal reader to be in her corner. She’d just have to be the girl to knock Wes Hartley on his ass—a man who, to her knowledge, had never let any other woman do that before.
But Wes was different with Annie. She could feel it. Even if she didn’t truly know him before now, she’d felt a shift ever since the wedding, like she was her truest self with him, and maybe—just maybe—he was the same with her. If that wasn’t the best recipe for proving there was such a thing as happily ever after, she wasn’t sure what else was.
Challenge accepted.
Chapter Seventeen
“It was so good seeing you, Wes.” Lindsay hugged him tight, and he tried not to squirm. “I thought it was you, and I just happened to have my book with me…”
Dog-eared on the page where his hero kisses the character named Becky, a girl who was clearly on the rebound and just needed something to fill the void. Becky, who looks a lot like the curly-haired brunette he was trying to step away from now.
“What are you doing with yourself these days?” he asked when she finally set him free.
She batted her eyes, and her cheeks grew pink. “I finished nursing school. And Kevin and I are still together.” She flashed a ring. “Engaged, actually. He flipped when he read your book—when I showed him how much you wanted me, but I wouldn’t let you truly have me because I still loved him.”
Wes made a choking sound and looked around for Annie, hoping she was still unpacking stock in the supply room.
“I’m happy for you, Lindsay,” he said. And he meant it. But he also meant to end this exchange, like, now. He scratched the back of his head and looked longingly at the couch behind him. “I should really get back to work, though.”
She gasped. “Oh, of course. I’m meeting Kevin for dinner soon. I just wanted to thank you—and have you sign my book.” She winked. “Our book.” Then she backed away and out of the store.
Wes wiped his palms on his jeans and let out a nervous laugh. Who knew coming home could be so—confrontational? He dropped back down into the spot that had become his over the past few weeks.
The couch? Comfortable. The lighting? Perfect. The sugary sweet warmth of the apple cider sitting on the table next to his laptop?
The worst. Like, the absolute worst. This was no writer fuel. It wasn’t fuel at all. It was candy, and Wes didn’t do candy. Or sweet. Unless he was tasting it on Annie Denning’s tongue. That was a whole other story.
Annie materialized out of nowhere and plopped down on the couch perpendicular to his, picking up the now cooling cup.
“You hate it,” she said.
He was caught so off guard he wasn’t even going to try to lie.
“I really hate it.”
But he couldn’t stop smiling, especially not when Annie looked adorable in that green T-shirt that read reading is my superpower. It was cut so that whenever she reached for something on a high shelf, he caught a glimpse of the skin between the shirt’s hem and the top of her jeans. Not that she was reaching for anything right now. But he was imagining her reaching, and well—he was a writer. He could do a lot with his imagination. Plus, the shirt made those green eyes of hers even greener, and he got a little lost when he looked at them.
But he still hated the cider.
“I drink coffee, Annie. With nothing in it. Strong and bitter.”
She huffed out a breath. “That should be your author bio. Strong and bitter.”
He chuckled, then reached for her wrist and tugged her over to his couch. There were no patrons in or around the reading nook of Two Stories at the moment, and while he was enjoying the quiet time to write, he enjoyed this distraction even more.
She landed on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You could probably sue me for sexual harassment or something,” she said, nipping his bottom lip.
“Hmmmm,” he hummed. “I’m not your employee, so that probably wouldn’t hold up in court.” He nipped her right back, and she gasped. “Besides,” he added. “I tend to think of it as exceptional customer service rather than harassment.”
He licked her bottom lip, and she took in a sharp breath.
“Wes?” she asked, as they continued with not kissing but almost kissing, which was driving
him out of his mind more than actual kissing might do.
“Annie?” he said, his voice raspy and deep.
“I think we should maybe—you know. We haven’t actually…”
God she was adorable when she was flustered, even more so when he was the one doing the flustering. He leaned back and crinkled his brow, feigning confusion. “We haven’t actually…what?” He bit back a grin.
She groaned. “Look, I’m not shy about this. It’s just different with us. We’ve done the whole naked thing and the orgasm thing, but we haven’t actually—”
“Tamed the one-eyed monster?” He spoke softly and raised a brow. She opened her mouth to continue, but he cut her off. “Tickled the pickle?”
“Wes…”
“Pillaged your castle? Slytherined your Hufflepuff? Opened the gates of Mordor?”
“Wes!” she cried, and an older woman’s head peeked out from behind a nearby bookshelf. Annie clapped her hand over her mouth, but tears were streaming down her cheeks as she stifled the sound of her laughter.
She whacked him on the shoulder.
“Mordor?” she whisper shouted. “You have simultaneously ruined both Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings for me!”
He sighed.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’d probably be Ravenclaw anyway, and you’d end up being Gryffindor. Ravenclaw your Gryffindor doesn’t sound as hot.”
“It sounds downright painful,” Annie said. She snorted, and the spying woman poked her head out from the shelf again.
This time the woman’s eyes locked on Wes’s, and recognition bloomed. He cleared his throat and gently slid Annie from his lap so he could stand.
“Mrs. Forster,” he said, striding toward the woman and holding out his hand.
But she swatted the hand away and wrapped him in an unexpected hug.
“I’ve known you all your life, Wesley. Cut the crap and call me Sarah.”
…
Annie didn’t want to eavesdrop, but Wes didn’t exactly invite her over to meet whoever this Sarah was. Other than walking straight past the two of them, there was no way out of the reading nook, the spot Wes had been coming to write on nearly all his free days for the past three weeks. Even Jeremy couldn’t question it since he’d been having spotty internet access at his place and Two Stories offered free wifi. It meant she could see Wes several times a week—in public—and not have her brother question it.
But now she was trapped in her own place of business. Tabitha was at the register, so Annie decided to straighten shelves and try not to listen.
“Does your father know you’re here?” the woman—Sarah—asked him.
Wes let out a long breath. “I tried to tell him I was coming home. Even called him from the road. But you know how he is.”
She sighed. “He’s your father, Wes. I think he’d like to know you’re in town. I read about the book signing a while back, but luckily your father didn’t see. How long have you been here?”
The tone in her voice told Annie that this woman knew Wes well, well enough to ask that question. Annie had known Wes needed a place to stay, but she didn’t know it was because he didn’t want to let his dad know he was home.
“A month,” he said, his tone flat.
Annie stilled in the long silence. Her back was to them, and she fought the urge to turn, but her resolve didn’t last long, not after Sarah spoke.
“Hasn’t he lost enough?” she asked. “He loved your mom, Wes. I did, too. And we all miss her. But if he knew you were so close yet didn’t call? If he knew? It would crush him.”
Annie spun to face them, her heart in her throat. At least this wasn’t another ex. Annie hated pretending like she hadn’t seen the other girl. But this seemed even more intimate—family drama that Wes hadn’t shared with her, and she wanted more than anything to escape.
Wes stared at the woman, his jaw tight and his hands fisted at his sides.
“If you really knew her like you think you did…if you knew them, you’d know how fucked-up that sounds,” he said.
“Wes—”
He shook his head. “No. Sarah. Don’t. Just don’t. I appreciate your good intentions, but my father and I are way beyond that. Robert Hartley doesn’t get crushed. He doesn’t even shed a tear for the woman he supposedly loved.”
Shit. Annie needed to abort this mission and fast. She shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t her conversation to hear.
She pulled out her phone and quickly texted Tabitha, asking her to come looking for her in the reading nook. It was terrible and awful to put her employee in the middle of this, but the way Annie saw it—Tabitha kind of owed her one.
Fifteen seconds later, Annie heard her name.
“Hey, Annie? Can you come help with something up at the register?”
Wes and Sarah froze as Annie emerged from where she was hidden.
She gritted her teeth and painted on a smile. The woman must have seen her and Wes earlier, but now wasn’t the time for introductions.
“Excuse me,” Annie said, walking past them as if she didn’t know either one. And the more she thought about it as she made her way toward the front of the store, the more she believed that to be the absolute truth.
Chapter Eighteen
Wes checked his phone. One thirty. Jamie thought they’d be dead tonight, a Thursday with no important games on or anything like that, but at eleven o’clock an unexpected bachelorette party on a pub crawl burst through the door, and his chance of getting off before midnight disintegrated into thin air.
“Hey,” Jamie said, wiping down the bar. “I’m really sorry I had to keep you so late.”
Wes shrugged, doing his part and wiping off the taps now that last call had turned into Finish your drinks and pack it up, ladies.
Wes’s phone buzzed with a text, and he pulled it from his pocket. He tried to keep his reaction neutral.
“That Annie?” Jamie asked.
“Am I that obvious?” Wes countered.
“I—uh—” Jamie continued. “I know you were probably banking on taking advantage of Jeremy being out of town for the weekend.”
Actually, he’d just planned on taking advantage of the fact that Jeremy had already left this afternoon. The rest of the weekend was still in question.
“We really don’t need to do this,” Wes said. “Annie’s a smart girl. I trust her to make her own decisions.”
Jamie nodded. “So do I. And if it was anyone else, I’d stay out of it. But Annie’s my friend. I owe her a shitload of gratitude for what she did to help me and Brynn figure our crap out. So if I need to step in on her behalf, I will.”
Wes nodded in response. Guess they were really doing this. Talking about it out in the open. He didn’t think that was the way of men, at least not men he knew and certainly not himself. Besides, maybe Annie would still be awake when he got there. Tabitha was opening the shop tomorrow, so she could sleep in.
Wes sighed. “You probably think I’m a huge asshole,” he finally added.
This time Jamie shrugged, and Wes wondered if they’d ever make it further than noncommittal gestures in this so-called conversation.
“I don’t make it a habit of taking advantage of my friends or sneaking around. But this is what Annie wants right now, and I’m honoring that,” Wes said. “Just so we’re clear. I know what Jeremy thinks of my past, but it’s not like that’s a secret from Annie. She knows where I’m coming from, and she’s okay with our arrangement.”
Jamie nodded.
“Annie and Jer are more than friends to me—to us,” Jamie said, and Wes knew he meant Brynn. “They’re family. And while I respect that this is what Annie wants right now, I won’t stand by and watch if you do anything to hurt either of them.”
Wes clenched his teeth and let out a forceful breath through his nose. He really was on his own here. Wasn’t he? If this whole thing crashed and burned, Annie and Jeremy would have Jamie and Brynn to help pick up the pieces, and Wes would be, once again, flying so
lo.
Never mind that he’d been in town for nearly a month, that he and Annie had finally found a rhythm, even if it meant only seeing each other one-on-one once or twice a week. He still hadn’t called his father, the one person who should have his back yet never really did.
“I care about Annie,” Wes said. More than he was willing to admit out loud. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t be careful with what they were doing—with doing his best not to hurt her even if he was starting to feel things he hadn’t felt with any other woman.
Jamie stopped what he was doing and turned to face him now.
“I know she’s smart. I know she can make her own decisions. But I also know she’s got these…expectations when it comes to relationships, and maybe I worry about her wanting more than you might be willing to give.”
Jamie did have a point, but Wes’s instinct was still to go on the defensive. He did his best to hold back. Jamie was the guy who signed his paychecks, after all. It would only be another month before he got that first royalty check, and then he wouldn’t have to play it so safe anymore. And if the movie thing panned out? Well, then he wouldn’t even have to wait. He could stay or go. And the closer he got to finishing his manuscript, he wondered how welcome he really was in the place that used to be home.
“Noted,” Wes said.
The last of the patrons were filing out, including the very drunk group of women for whom Wes had already called a cab to make sure they got home safe. He and Jamie finished closing up in a thick, tense silence. Wes locked the front door and followed Jamie out the back where he set the alarm and made sure the place was secure.
“She likes you,” Jamie finally said before he hopped into his truck and Wes onto his bike.
“I like her, too.”
Jamie shook his head. “Every other guy she’s brought around—she never lit up for them like she does for you.”
Wes laughed quietly. “Because you notice these things.”
Jamie crossed his arms. “When it comes to those who matter, Hartley, I notice.”
Though he knew neither of them would say it, he wondered if Jamie noticed how he lit up when Annie was around, too.