Hard Wood

by Lauren Blakely

  The sun hangs low in the sky, its bright peach and fiery-orange rays signaling the coming sunset.

  Walker clears his throat. “We are gathered here today to join Patrick and Mia in holy matrimony.”

  Since this is a simple ceremony, he slides right into the vows. “Do you, Patrick, take Mia to be your wife?”

  With my gaze locked to hers, I give the easiest answer ever. “I do.”

  "Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only unto her?"

  "I do."

  Walker looks to Mia. “Do you, Mia, take Patrick to be your husband?"

  Her smile can’t be contained. “I do.”

  “Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only unto him?”

  “I do.”

  And I soar. I am officially the happiest man in the world.

  “It is now time for the exchanging of the rings.”

  From my suit pocket, I take out the platinum bands from a small velvet bag and hold up hers. “I promise to love you, cherish you, hold your hand on balconies, take care of you whenever you need me, and hold you from this day forward, until death do us part,” I say, and Mia’s eyes well with tears as I slide the band on her finger.

  She takes mine. “I promise to love you, cherish you, hold your hand over bridges, take care of you whenever you need me, and hold you from this day forward, until death do us part.”

  She puts the ring on my finger.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  And so I do, kissing her sweet lips, cherishing her taste, loving that as the sun sets over the cliffs, this woman is now my wife.

  Later that night, I make love to her, and it just gets better and better every single time.

  When she curls up against me for our first night together as husband and wife, I hold her hand, studying our rings.

  “I love our rings,” she says, snuggling against me.

  “The best part is what’s engraved.”

  She laughs and dots a kiss on my nose. “That is the best part of these rings.”

  After all, it says what’s always been true.

  The cat knew first.

  Epilogue

  A few months later

  “And then you need to bring caviar for the cat.”

  Camilla laughs at my final tip. “What would any glamping feline need but caviar?”

  Zeus stretches a paw across my leg, and raises his chin at the WRBC Channel 10 anchor. He’s become a regular on the Tips and Tricks for Enjoying the Great Outdoors segment. Turns out when you’re a hiking cat, you’re in demand. The first segment with him was one of the station’s most popular, so they asked if I could bring him back for each and every one.

  Gladly.

  He’s one chill feline, and if he helps more people and pets enjoy the world around them, then I’m a happy camper.

  And Camilla says she’ll be a happy glamper if she follows my tips.

  “I know you’ll have a great time, Camilla.”

  “I’ll report back on whether my curling iron works in the woods.” Then she turns to the camera. “And that’s all for today. Join us next week for another segment from our outdoors expert and his cat, Zeus.”

  Camilla thanks me again, shakes my hand, and tells me she’ll see me next week.

  I load Zeus into his pack and head home.

  To see my wife.

  Since it’s Friday morning, she’s just finished her shower and is rubbing coconut lotion into her shapely legs when I return to our place.

  “Ah, just like I imagined,” I say, then press a kiss to her cheek.

  After she tugs on her skirt and zips it up, she tosses me her damp towel. “And now for my fantasy.”

  “Laundry,” I say in a deliberately husky tone, as I drop it into the basket I’ll be sending out later today.

  “Mmm. You get me so excited when you talk about chores. Tell me more about the household tasks you’ll engage in.”

  I loop my arms around her waist, and press a kiss to the back of her soft neck. “I’ll order some groceries,” I say seductively.

  “Oh yeah,” she hums.

  “I’ll pay the utility bill.”

  She cries out, as if in pleasure.

  “I’ll even pick up a gift for Max’s wedding.”

  She laughs and slides around in my arms so she’s facing me. “Silly kangaroo, I already did that.”

  “I have no doubt you did.”

  Then she slips away, puts on a blouse, and blow-dries her hair. When she’s done, she tells me she’s leaving for the office.

  “Same here,” I say. I give Zeus a goodbye scratch on the chin, and we take off together.

  Mia heads for the Pure Beauty offices, and I head to meet Dana to review our upcoming trips. Dana handles Pure Beauty’s regular excursions now, and that works out just fine. In fact, everything has worked out just fine.

  Sure, Mia and I argue every now and then. Like last week, when she wanted to give me head before I went down on her. Insistent little thing, she was sure she’d win.

  She didn’t.

  I can be pretty convincing with my tongue.

  There was another time we didn’t see eye-to-eye, but she was right on that count. It turned out that fresh strawberries and champagne did make a better gift for my sister’s engagement party than my idea to give them a backpack. In my defense, my sister didn’t have one, and I still don’t understand how anyone can function without one.

  In any case, I let Mia pick a gift for her brother’s wedding. Besides, I’ve been the recipient of the greatest gift of all. Not just Mia, obviously. But the gift of teasing Max relentlessly about the fact that I beat him in the marriage game. He’s the last of our crew to tie the knot, even though he was engaged well before I started seeing his sister.

  But hey, every man goes at his own pace.

  Some just go a little faster than others when they fall in love.

  That’s evidently the kind of guy I am.

  The next night, Mia is a radiant bridesmaid as she stands across from me at the front of the ballroom in the Plaza Hotel while Henley and Max exchange their vows.

  The venue was Henley’s choice. She works on cars all day long, so she said her inner girlie side needed nothing less than a full Plaza wedding, and that’s what she’s having.

  Chase and Josie are part of the wedding party, too, while Spencer, Nick, and Wyatt are parked in the front rows with their wives and kids. Spencer and Charlotte’s son is adorable, perched in his mom’s lap, with blond hair to match hers. Nick holds his infant son, who has blue eyes the same color as Harper’s. Wyatt’s toddler daughter holds his hand.

  Briefly, I wonder when Chase and Josie will head down that path, but there is plenty of time for that.

  When the officiant tells Max he can kiss the bride, Henley jumps in his arms then smothers him in kisses.

  They have the right idea, so once they’re walking the other way down the aisle, I give my wife a kiss.

  She smiles and sighs happily. “Everyone’s married off now. Does that mean the rest of us have to get knocked up soon, too?”

  I tense for a moment. “Is that your way of telling me you’re pregnant?”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “No. But the abject terror in your eyes is all I need to keep taking my birth control.”

  I grab her hand tighter, tug her in closer. “I’m not scared. You just caught me off guard. Do you want to have kids soon?”

  “Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but someday. Someday is soon enough.”

  “That sounds good to me, too.”

  Then we join our friends and family, and when I dance with Mia later that night, I remember the last time I danced with her at a wedding, when I was ready to fly clear across the country to date her long distance. Now, several months later, she’s here with me every night.

  I run a finger across a strand of her hair. “Sometimes, I think this life we
have is everything I imagined. But then I realize, it’s even better than I could have dreamed.”

  “Me, too.”

  Another Epilogue

  A little after that

  By now, most women have met enough players, enough guys who don’t ever want to settle down. I suppose that’s fine. There’s a time and a place for everyone.

  As for me, I knew what I wanted from the first night I met Mia. I wanted her, and for more than one night.

  But you don’t always get what you want just because you’re ready for it. Even though I like to think I’m easygoing, laid-back—hell, even normal—I discovered I had my own baggage.

  I had to let go of what I thought I needed—proximity—before I could get it.

  I needed to be willing to take what I could get. When I fell in love with Mia, the problem I had to solve was learning that she was worth the distance, worth the miles, worth the wait.

  Now I have everything I could ever have imagined and then some. Sometimes, you just have to say why the hell not? and go after the life you want to lead.

  That’s what I have now. A great job, fantastic friends, a healthy family, a cat who isn’t like any other cat, and a woman I’ve pitched my tent with.

  Speaking of tents, I’ve made good on my promise to introduce Mia to the true joys of camping. We’ve spent many nights under the Milky Way, and I make sure she always sees stars.

  If you catch my drift.

  After all, we both like camping best . . . with our particular style.

  And One More Epilogue

  Sometime soon enough

  Conversations with the Cat

  Zeus

  He padded toward the bathroom on the quietest feet in the home. The woman had gone in there the second she woke, springing out of bed.

  She never bolted up in the morning. Perhaps she needed to stroke his soft fur to feel better about whatever was making her nervous. He’d sensed her nerves. He was talented like that.

  Now, as the man slept deeply, Zeus nudged his shoulder against the ajar door, pushing it open.

  The woman was perched on the toilet bowl, holding a stick. He cocked his head to the side, watching her. She stretched her arm to push the door closed.

  “Shh. I don’t want him to know I’m even taking this.”

  Zeus parked his rear on the tile and stared at her, while she stared at the stick.

  Tick tock.

  She set the stick on the sink and flushed. She watched the stick more as she washed her hands.

  Zeus never looked away from her.

  At last, she peered at the stick once more. She gasped.

  She dropped down to him, scooped him up in her arms, and pressed her lips to his furry face. “You’re going to be a big brother.”

  Then she set him down and burst out of the bathroom, waving the stick and waking up the man, who erupted into the kind of cheer that Zeus could only assume accompanied a fresh can of tuna.

  Whatever was exciting the man and the woman, he found great satisfaction in the fact that he had known first.

  THE END

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  Coming next is THE V CARD, a sinfully sexy new standalone romance co-written with bestselling author Lili Valente! You won’t want to this miss sexy and swoony romantic comedy about lessons in seduction that lead to so much more! Then, look for MOST LIKELY TO SCORE, a fun & sexy sports romance about a forbidden love, releasing in January 2018. A sneak peek follows. Looking ahead to early 2018, I’ll release WANDERLUST (hello, hot British hero) and COME AS YOU ARE! First, MOST LIKELY TO SCORE…

  Chapter One

  Jones

  I’m buck naked.

  I often am.

  I’m not an exhibitionist. I simply don’t find I have a need for clothes most of the time, unless I’m on the field or at a public appearance. Obviously.

  Pretty sure I was one of those naked kids. You know the type. Runs around in the sprinkler in his backyard in the buff. Streaks down the hallway with nothing on. Oh wait, that was me in college too, and I did that stunt on multiple occasions. So often in fact, I was nicknamed Flash. I was fast. Still am. Like a motherfucking silver bullet.

  Right now, I’m all in with the birthday suit style of attire, the costume for the annual Sporting World body issue.

  Okay, perhaps I’m exaggerating. I do have one thing on — my Adam’s fig leaf comes in the form of my hands holding a strategically-placed football to cover the goods.

  The pigskin is doing its part to make this photo printable in the magazine, though all the shots of star athletes in this issue are in the nude. A tennis player will lob a ball, the racket covering her breasts, and her lunge obscuring other Not Safe For Work parts. Or a swimmer will glide through crystal waters, the angle ensuring it’s not a triple X centerfold shot.

  The photographer with the ponytail and lip piercing, snaps pictures of me and asks for a smile.

  I oblige.

  “Love it,” Christine says emphatically, her lips and that barbell in them the only parts of her visible since the lens covers most of her face. “How about a little tough guy look now?”

  Because tough guys hold footballs in front of their junk.

  “This is my best badass pose,” I say, narrowing my eyes, staring at the camera like I’d do the secondary of the Miami Mavericks.

  “Oh yes, more of that, right Jillian?” Christine shouts to the other person here in the studio with us.

  That person is Jillian, and she hasn’t looked my way since I strolled in here and dropped my drawers. Damn shame.

  From her spot leaning against the far wall, the team publicist answers in a crisp professional tone I know well. “Exactly. We love his tough guy face.”

  She doesn’t even look up from her phone.

  I keep working it for Christine, doing my best to make sure my blue eyes will melt whoever is looking at the picture when the magazine hits newsstands and Internet browsers in another few weeks.

  It’s an evergreen kind of issue, since the body edition is one of the most popular. Gee, I wonder why. Maybe it’s because so little is left to the imagination. I’ve no doubt this shot of me with a football for my skivvies will quickly surpass the most-searched for image of yours truly — the game-winning catch I made in the end zone in the SuperBowl two years ago.

  But, to be fair, there’s another shot of me that’s searched for maybe a tiny bit more. I like to pretend that that shot doesn’t exist.

  “The camera loves you,” Christine croons, as the snap, snap, snap of the lens keeps the rhythm.

  “The feeling is entirely mutual,” I say, pursing my lips in an over-the-top kiss.

  Christine laughs. “You are my favorite ham in all of sports, Jones. That’ll be a perfect outtake for our Web site.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea,” Jillian chimes in. “Make sure to send me a copy for social, please.”

  “Absolutely,” Christine answers.

  I sneak a peek at the dark-haired woman by the wall, that silky curtain of sleekness framing her face, as she smiles a bright, buoyant, outgoing grin at the photographer, then snaps her head back down.

  Damn.

  Jillian Moore is one tough nut to crack.

  I’m nearly naked in front of her and she hasn’t once looked my way.

  As the woman behind the lens shoots another photo with my favorite ball covering my favorite balls, Jillian doesn’t even proffer another glance.

  I’m going to need a whole new playbook to get this woman’s attention.

  MOST LIKELY TO SCORE will release in January…

  Here’s a sneak peek of WANDERLUST, a swoony, sweeping, sexy, utterly romantic, brand-new standalone set in Paris…

  Prologue

  Joy

  Forget oysters. Screw candlelight and champagne. A sexy accent is the true aphrodisiac. I’m talking a weak-in-the-knees, flutters-all-over fast-track to euphoria.

  I’ve
tried to analyze precisely why accents can elicit this reaction in, frankly, millions of women. But when I break down an accent and study it like a chemical reaction, it’s nearly impossible to draw a logical conclusion. The ingredients in and of themselves don’t seem swoontastic enough.

  And yet, accents have been known to induce major swooning.

  That’s why, in my professional opinion, the sounds aren’t the rocket fuel for the tingles. Instead, it’s the associations evoked. Italian is food, wine, and days that drench you in the pleasures of the senses. Australian is the laid-back twang of a surfer. A Southern drawl says a man will take his sweet time. Oh, yes, darling, will he ever.

  But British? Dear god. A delicious British accent to my oh-so-American ears triggers wave after wave of goosebumps across my skin. My knees wobble. My stomach swoops. My skin heats. All the turned-on centers in my body are cranked to high.

  A British accent is James Bond in a bottle. It’s sex, it’s style, it’s sophistication, and it’s the man who’ll find his way out of any jam, save the damsel, and do it all with silver cufflinks on.

  Wait. Make that platinum.

  Charmed, indeed.

  That’s why I say it’s a damn good thing I’m moving to a country that won’t be chock full of my personal vocal kryptonite, since I don’t have the time or inclination for distractions in my life right now. Look, I don’t have a single problem with the French accent whatsoever. A hot French man can voulez-vous avec moi, if you know what I mean.

  But it’s a British accent that turns me to silly putty, so in Paris I’ll be mighty fine.

  Then, I meet him.

  WANDERLUST will release in March…

  STUD FINDER preview

  Did you enjoy getting to know Patrick’s sister, Evie? She has a story of her own to tell in STUD FINDER, available now! Here is a preview…