The next morning, Hadley got herself ready for work and I sat around with a cup of coffee, gazing appreciatively at her hot little ass as she padded from room to room. I realized as I watched her that somehow or other, Hadley was always going to come crashing into my life, sooner or later. I had never been one to believe in fate, but somehow, Hadley and I had been inevitable. We were always going to end up together. And once we met, there was never going to be any turning back.
Hadley finished getting ready for work, kissed me long and deep, and then headed out the door for the clinic. I took a final swig of coffee and was starting toward the kitchen when the door swung back open. “My car won’t start,” she complained. “And there’s a puddle of something that looks like oil underneath it.”
I shook my head and laughed. “I’ll take a look at it. You want me to take you in on the bike?” I asked.
Hadley looked down skeptically at her outfit. “Yeah, but I’d better change out of this skirt into some pants,” she frowned.
“My loss,” I smirked, and she swatted at me and headed into the bedroom to change.
“Might be time to get a new car,” I said as I followed her down the hallway. “Yours is getting to be more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Oh, no,” she shook her head, laughing. “We can never get rid of that car. It’s what brought us together, after all. Good think you know how to fix cars, because you’re stuck with it now. And me,” she added, smiling wickedly.
Babe,” I said, “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with.”
THE END
Sneak Peek
SNAP COUNT: A BAD BOY SPORTS ROMANCE
Chapter 1
Ivy
What’s the point of having a giant bull mastiff as your guard dog when he doesn’t guard, and barely knows he’s a dog?
Weighing in at one-hundred thirty pounds, with enormous jowls that could easily fit around my head, Zeus ought to strike fear into the heart of anyone he meets. That’s one reason Franklin got him as a puppy — hoping he’d be good protection out in public, and better than an alarm system at home.
The day I arrived in my tiny car loaded up with the few possessions I own, Franklin introduced me to my future roommate as “the worst security system ever. He eats me out of house and home, sleeps twenty-three hours a day, and makes sure to lie around in high-traffic areas so I’m always tripping over him.”
Which is why Zeus is lying splayed out on the floor snoozing like an old geezer when three men just appear on my balcony one morning.
My balcony. With no curtains on the French doors that open out onto it.
Oh. And did I mention I’m not wearing any clothes?
My name is Ivy Kincaide. I’m a graduate student in neuroscience at Springville University. Franklin Reynolds is the gentleman for whom I am currently house- and dog-sitting, while he’s off on a wild romantic adventure visiting his boyfriend, Juan Carlos, in Argentina. Franklin’s been a friend of my mother’s since they were both in college. Which is how I got this gig: free rent, in an absolutely beautiful condo I could never afford in a million years. And all I have to do is feed and walk a giant fur-covered sofa three times a day.
It’s a dream job for someone who’s short on cash and needs a calm, quiet place to study and work on my master’s thesis. And having to walk Zeus periodically gets me out of the house on days when I’d otherwise be holed up like a monk with my books and laptop. Not to mention having free lodging means I can survive on the meager stipend I get from my department for being a part-time research assistant to Dr. Nancy Springer, one of the top neuroscientists in her field.
Which means I’m often at home in the mornings, writing and studying.
Like this morning.
Yeah, still not wearing any clothes.
I’ve just gotten out of the shower, and pad out to the kitchen to make myself some iced coffee. It’s the middle of June, and the beginning of what looks like it’s going to be a long, hot summer. Already this morning, it’s feeling pretty steamy, but I’m loathe to put on the air conditioner just yet, preferring to keep the windows open as long as I can stand it.
So, I’m basically drip-drying as I wander around the house, which isn’t a problem because the condo is on the second floor. It’s a corner unit, which means that there’s only one neighboring unit next door, which has been empty for months. On the other three sides, trees obscure the view through the windows and the balcony. It’s sort of like living in a tree house, and I love the feeling of privacy it gives me.
Except today.
As I stand in the kitchen pouring cold coffee over ice in a tall glass, I hear the murmur of voices that sound like they might be coming from the condo next door. Frowning, I glance up toward the wall our units share. From Franklin, I know that the owner of the condo, Mrs. McGregor, died a few months back. I haven’t seen a “for sale” sign go up in front of the building, or any evidence the place has gone on the market.
Maybe whoever is in charge of Mrs. McGregor’s estate is finally selling the place, I think as I take my iced coffee out into the living room.
And promptly drop it onto the hardwood floor with a shriek when a pair of vivid blue eyes meet mine.
Chapter 2
Knox
I wasn’t so sure this condo complex was gonna be a great fit for me, but I have to say, the view from the balcony is pretty damn good.
I just signed a six-month lease on this condo, which the realtor for the Springville Rockets found for me before I got to town. The Rockets just signed me on as a wide receiver for the team. I moved here from Atlanta, where I was born and raised, and played football there for four and a half years in college. I got drafted to Carolina for four years after that, then signed on with the Rockets when they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
I didn’t have a lot of time to come up to Springville to check out places to live, so I ended up choosing this place mostly sight unseen, except for a few photos sent over email and the assurance of the realtor that it was a nice place. It’s definitely good enough for now — at least until I get to know Springville better and can look around for someplace to buy. The only problem is that when the movers showed up today with the van full of my stuff, they figured out pretty quickly that the narrow front stairwell wasn’t going to accommodate my huge leather couch. Pete, one of the movers, suggests we try to haul it up through a window or something. He and I and the other guy, whose name is Matty, are standing on the large balcony that stretches from the unit I’m renting to the one next to it. The two of them are arguing about whether the railing is strong enough to hold the couch, so I wander over to the open French doors of the condo next door and happen to glance in.
And come face to face with a red-headed, green-eyed beauty, naked and glorious for all the world to see.
Well, for me to see, that is. And believe me, it is glorious. My dick instantly rises to attention, getting hard so fast it almost hurts.
A look of sheer horror and panic crosses the redhead’s face as she lets out a scream and drops the glass she’s holding. It falls to the floor and shatters, dark liquid and glass going everywhere. “Jesus!” she yells as she awkwardly tries to cover herself. “What the hell are you doing out there?!”
Pete and Matty look over curiously. Pete starts to walk over, but I stop him with a quick shake of my head.
“I’m Knox Harper,” I say with a slow grin. “I’m your new neighbor.” My eyes slide over her body, noting her smooth, creamy skin, full breasts, and generous hips, and it’s only with a supreme effort that I will the tent in my shorts to go down.
I make a mental note to send the team’s realtor a fruit basket.
The hot redhead shrieks again as I take a step through the French doors into her condo. “What the hell are you doing?” she cries, moving back a step and grabbing a sofa pillow to hold in front of her. “Don’t you dare come any closer!”
I ignore her and step through the French doors into her condo. �
�You’re gonna get your feet all cut up,” I tell her, nodding toward the floor. “You should go put some shoes on.” I walk into her living room, almost tripping over a fucking huge-ass dog I didn’t even notice was there at first. He lifts his head to look at me, and his giant tail begins to thump heavily against the floor.
“Goddamn it, Zeus,” she fumes at him. “You are the worst guard dog ever.” The dog glances up, looks at her and then at me, then lays his enormous head back down between his paws and closes his eyes.
I laugh. “You got a broom handy? I can get started on cleaning this up while you go get some shoes on.” I rake my eyes over her curves. “But be my guest if you wanna skip the clothes.”
“Jesus,” she spits at me. “Why are you still here? Get out! I should call the cops on you!”
“Far as I can see from here, you don’t have your phone on you,” I say easily. “Besides, I’m not taking no for an answer, until you go get some goddamn shoes on.”
With a tiny roar of suppressed fury, she turns and flees down a hallway, and I take advantage of the opportunity to cop a glance at her full, luscious ass. I look over at Zeus and say, “Is she always like this?” His tail thumps twice as his mouth opens in a big, slobbery grin.
Then I head to where I think the kitchen is, to look for a broom.
A minute or so later, the redhead comes back into the living room, disappointingly with clothes on, and a pair of flip flops.
“You call those shoes?” I frown at her as I sweep up broken glass, but I let it go.
“I asked you to leave,” she says pointedly, pointing to the balcony.
“Didn’t your mama teach you any manners?” I reply. “I’m cleaning up this broken glass for you, after all.”
“You broke into my house!” she cries. “And you scared the hell out of me. Which is why I dropped the glass in the first place. And I should thank you for that?”
I scoff. “Your doors were open. That’s hardly breaking in. That’s just walking in. Completely different.”
“Oh, my God! Either way, it’s trespassing.”
“Eh. Details,” I shrug, and continue sweeping.
Outside, Pete yells my name. “Hey, man,” he says, his face appearing in the doorway. “We’re gonna go downstairs and rig up the couch.” His eyes flick toward the redhead. “Ma’am,” he says to her, his eyes moving over her curves.
“Sounds good,” I tell him. “You guys need me?”
“Maybe, yeah. You and Matty can be up here to hall it in.”
I nod. “Got it. Be there in a sec.” I turn toward the redhead. “Sorry, cupcake, I gotta go help the movers. Maybe we can continue this conversation later?”
Her lips part slightly in disbelief as her brows furrow. I am seriously pissing her off, and unfortunately for her, it’s cute as hell.
“You call this a conversation?” she fumes.
“Hey, you’re talking to me, I’m talking to you. That’s a conversation.” I finish sweeping the last shards of glass into the dust pan, and empty the whole thing into a waste basket I found in the kitchen. “There you go. You can thank me later,” I say generously.
She scoffs. “Fat chance.”
I stride over to the French doors, carefully stepping over the huge dog. “See you later, Zeus,” I say to him. His tail thumps once. Then I look back at the hot redhead, who’s still throwing daggers at me with her eyes. “You got a name?” I ask her.
“Fuck you,” she spits.
“Huh,” I say, cocking my head. “That must be a hell of a thing to explain in job interviews. You know, you can change that for a few hundred bucks.”
Then I leave her there, looking like she’s contemplating seven different ways to kill me, and go help the guys pull up my couch.
SNAP COUNT will be released in December 2016 — just in time for Christmas.
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Books by Daphne Loveling
Motorcycle Club Romance
Los Perdidos MC
Fugitives MC
Throttle: A Stepbrother Romance
Rush: A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance
Crash: A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance
Ride: A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance
Stand: A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance
Paranormal Romance
Untamed Moon
Other Books
Daphne’s Delights: The Billionaire Collection
Daphne’s Delights: The Paranormal Collection
About Daphne Loveling
Daphne Loveling is a small-town girl who moved to the big city as a young adult in search of adventure. She lives in the American Midwest with her fabulous husband and the two cats who own them.
Someday, she hopes to retire to a sandy beach and continue writing with sand between her toes.
Getting the DOWN (A Bad Boy Sports Romance) Page 31