Chelsea sat up a little straighter at the opening he’d left her. “That’s a super weird coincidence. Because I once left a bra behind after the best missionary sex of my life. But that was with a big bad wolf, not a prince, so…”
“Well, speaking of coincidences,” Brett glanced over at her, “I actually have a side-gig as a wolf. I’m part of a pack and everything. I can’t really say too much. First rule of the Wolfpack is don’t talk about the Wolfpack. It’s this whole thing.”
“Wow.” The hope in her chest was out of control now. She couldn’t have wrangled it into something more manageable if she’d tried.
“I know. And now that you mention it, you do remind me of this princess I met in a bar once.” Brett shifted on the stool so he was facing her.
“What do we do now?” Chelsea asked, turning toward him. Her knee brushed the inside of his thigh.
“Well, maybe we just leave it up to one of those fairy tale tests of fate.” His eyes dropped to her mouth, igniting a low hum in her belly. “I don’t have the bra with me, but the woman I’m thinking of tastes like strawberries.”
He leaned in, but she held a finger up to stop him. “Hold on one sec.”
Chelsea fished the plastic sword from her drink and slid the strawberry off it with her teeth. Her pulse kicked up at the way Brett’s gaze focused on her mouth while she chewed. Swallowed. Licked her lips for good measure. “Okay. Where were we?”
A dangerous grin worked its way across Brett’s face, and her skin prickled with want. “I’m pretty sure you just cheated fate.”
Chelsea shrugged, then shifted forward on her bar stool and grabbed him by the tie. “Sometimes, when she really wants something, a princess has to break the rules and take matters into her own hands.”
She pulled him close and his groan mixed with her sigh as their mouths met in the kind of kiss that woke sleeping princesses and promised them forever. And then, when she thought her heart might burst, she touched her tongue to his bottom lip to wake the beast, and he growled as he tightened his arms around her and hauled her right off her stool and onto his lap. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Chelsea gave herself up to the wolfish kiss that promised something else entirely.
She was panting when she pulled back, sliding her right hand up to cradle the stubbled jaw of the man who meant everything to her. “I love you so much.”
He reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear. “I love you too, Chels. I have from the minute I laid eyes on you.”
She wiggled her hips to let him know she wasn’t unaware that staring at her wasn’t all his body wanted right now. “And here I thought it was the minute you laid hands on me.”
“Yeah, that part was really good, too,” he agreed.
“So, what do you say you carry me out of here and let me get to work on giving you a happy ending,” she teased, unable to hold back her giggle as he tightened his arms around her and stood up.
But he didn’t walk out of the bar. He didn’t move at all, actually, and his eyes turned serious and reverent. Something profound quaked through her chest, and her smile faded as she recognized the full implication of what it meant to find true love.
“Actually, I think maybe a happily-ever-after is more my style.”
Chelsea let his perfect words wind their way right into her heart. “I can do that, too,” she said solemnly, wrapping her arms around his neck and sealing her vow with a kiss.
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Acknowledgments
To the entire team at Entangled, thank you for all your hard work in bringing this book to life.
I am especially grateful to Brenda Chin, for teaching me so much about myself as an author and for putting up with my penchant for stylized sentence fragments. Better next time. Promise.
Julia Knapman, you made me look good with your eagle-eyed copy editing. T-shirt, not t-shirt. I won’t forget again.
To my agent, Paige Wheeler. I’m thrilled this is the book that marks the first step on our journey together. Thanks for taking a shot with me.
So many people have cheered me on and kept me sane in this business, and I can’t thank them enough. I am honoured to count Stefanie London, J. Margot Critch, Regina Kyle, Carrie Nichols, and Mia Kay as friends as well as colleagues.
Liz, you’ve been BRETT BRETTERSONED!
And a shout out to Crystal, who reads my stuff at all hours, in all formats, even when she’d rather be watching Netflix. Friends don’t come more best than that.
About the Author
Taryn Leigh Taylor likes dinosaurs, bridges, and space, both personal and of the final frontier variety. She shamelessly indulges in clichés, most notably her Starbucks addiction (grande-six-pump-whole-milk-no-water chai tea latte, aka: the usual), her shoe hoard (I can stop anytime I…ooh! These are pretty!), and hockey (keepin’ it Canadian, eh?) Eventually, her penchant for falling in reading lust with fictional men set her on the course to writing them, too. She’s a firm believer that you can never have enough happily ever afters. Taryn’s first book, Kiss and Makeup, was short-listed for the Kobo Emerging Writer prize.
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