I blinked back a rush of tears. I missed him every day. On holidays, I showed solidarity to my mother, though. “I don’t mind being here with you.”
“You’re young,” she repeated. “You need to live more. I invited someone over tonight, by the way."
I groaned aloud this time. "Seriously? Why?"
"My friend Barbie knows this guy that is new to town and she thought it would be good for the two of you to meet. Trust me. It'll be nice. He's bringing cookies."
God, the last thing I wanted was to see some new guy here with cookies. "I've got to work on this script, Mom. I'm really busy."
"Oh, clearly," my mother said, nonplussed. "I can tell by the way you've been sighing over the same three words all night."
I gritted my teeth just as the doorbell rang.
"Get that please, Luna."
"Mom," I hissed. "No!"
"Do it for your mother."
I rubbed my forehead. "Mom, I don't want you to hook me up with anyone on Christmas Eve. Seriously. I'll just go to my room, all right?"
"Not before you answer the door," she called out.
The doorbell rang again.
"Just a moment," my mother shouted, and then nodded at me.
"Mom, pleaaaase." If she was going to treat me like a five year old, I'd act like one. I didn’t want this guy. I didn’t want anyone but Owen.
"Door," she said, and pointed at it over her shoulder. "Now."
Clenching my jaw against my mother's stubbornness - guess I'd inherited it from her - I went to the front door and flung it open.
Owen stood there, red roses in hand, a plate of Christmas cookies tucked under his arm. A sprig of mistletoe hung above him on the porch.
I screamed and flung my arms around him.
Owen laughed and dropped the flowers on the ground. They fell in a crunch onto the icy porch but I didn't care. His arm wrapped around me and then his mouth was on mine, and we were kissing. My desperate lips clung to him, and I gave a little whimper of joy when I felt his tongue slick into my mouth.
A moment later, the cookies crashed to the ground. Owen's other arm went around my back, and he clung to me. He held me pressed against him as if just as desperate to see me as I was to see him.
We kissed for what felt like hours.
Eventually, my mother cleared her throat from behind us. "Excuse me."
I pulled away from Owen almost sheepishly, wiping at my (deliciously) wet mouth. "Oh. Uh, Owen, this is my Mom. Mom, this is Owen. He's the guy I met."
"I know," she said in a dry voice. "He called a few days ago so we could set this up."
"Your friend Barbie, huh?" I said, staring up into Owen's dreamy eyes. "So you guys were lying to me?"
"Not really lying," Owen said, a wide grin spreading across his gorgeous face. "I told my Mom I wanted to see about opening up a second bakery, and I might have suggested Boston to her. Your mom's friend Barbie owns a storefront that would be perfect for my needs. So...here I am."
My fingers twined in the front of his silly, silly cupcake shirt. "Please tell me you're coming in," I whispered.
"Absolutely." He kissed me again, and then stuck his hand over my shoulder for my mother to shake. "Mrs. Collins, it's nice to finally meet you in person. I'm sorry that the cookies I brought got, uh, trampled."
"That's perfectly okay," she said, and I could have sworn her eyes were damp as she smiled at me. "Merry Christmas, Luna."
"Merry Christmas," I whispered back. God, my mom was awesome.
She shut the door, letting us have our privacy on the porch. I turned back to Owen and dragged his face toward mine, kissing him over and over again. "I can't believe it's you," I said in between lip locks. "I can't believe you're really here. I thought I'd never see you again." A horrible thought occurred to me and I dragged my mouth away from his. "You're here to see me, right?"
He laughed and kissed me back. "Yes. Absolutely. Why else would I come to this place if not for you? It's not because of the delicate way you guys pronounce 'parking lot'."
"You're such an ass," I said as I cuddled him.
"I know, Boston," he said. "Anyhow, I figured I had one last competition in mind for you and I."
"Oh?" The pit of my stomach dropped just a bit. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well," he said, and his hand went to the small of my back as he pulled me against him. "I kinda thought it'd be fun to see which of us says 'I love you' first. I'm totally willing to bet you all the hot water, too."
"You're on," I told him.
Best Christmas ever.
About Jessica Clare
NYT & USA Today Bestselling author Jessica Clare writes under three pen names. As Jessica Clare, she writes erotic contemporary romance. As Jessica Sims, she writes fun, sexy shifter paranormals. As Jill Myles, she writes a little bit of everything, from sexy, comedic urban fantasy to zombie fairy tales. She lives in Texas with her husband, cats, and spends way too much time playing video games. To sign up for Jessica's new release newsletter, go to http://www.jillmyles.com/newsletter
Read on for an excerpt from The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild - Coming January 7, 2014.
The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild
Copyright © 2013 by Jessica Clare
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Chapter One
Coming January 7, 2014
BRENNA WHISTLED TO HERSELF AS she left her cabin. She headed to the ATV shed on the far side of the main lodge that served as headquarters for Wilderness Survival Expeditions. She was alone, which meant it was the perfect time for sabotage.
After glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, she closed the doors and clicked on the overhead light, fanning herself. With the doors shut, it was probably a hundred degrees in the damn shed, but she didn’t plan on being in there long. Brenna moved to the first ATV—her favorite, the cherry red one—and squatted next to the front tire. She took the cap off the valve stem and then pressed her key into it until she heard the hiss of air. Humming to herself, she let out about half of the air before replacing the cap. Moving to the back tire on the same vehicle, she repeated it.
All done. Beaming to herself, she dusted off her hands and re-opened the shed doors, glancing at the empty parking lot. It was still early in the morning, the birds chirping and a breeze swaying the tall trees in the distance. Her gaze landed on Grant’s immaculate Audi gleaming in the parking lot.
A naughty smile curving her mouth, she moved to the hood, popped it, and surveyed the engine. She found the switch casing, opened it, and reviewed the list of switches until she identified the fuel pump switch. With careful fingers, she plucked it out of his car, closed the casing, shut the hood, and tossed the switch into a nearby garbage can.
Some days, she just loved her job.
Recently, their small business had expanded to include Colt’s aging father, who everyone called Pop. He mowed the lawns and did repairs, but there wasn’t normally enough to keep the man busy. Colt wanted his dad to feel needed, though, so Brenna was tasked with finding stuff to break for Pop to fix. She was great at it, too, though pretty soon she figured he’d be on to her flushing the tampon down the toilet trick. It was time to switch up her game a little, and a bit of vehicle maintenance would do the job just fine. Whistling again, she headed around the front of the main cabin and paused on the front steps.
Two male voices inside were arguing. Huh. She glanced at her watch. Six thirty in the morning. Too early for Pop to be up, or Grant, who was a late sleeper. She tended to get up with the sunrise, just like Colt and Dane. Habit from Alaska for them, she supposed, and habit for her from years of living in the back seat of a car.
Like any good nosy busybody, she pressed her ear to the front door to listen in.
“You can’t leave right now.” Dane sounded almost betrayed. “What am I supposed to do while yo
u’re gone?”
“Same thing you always do. Hold classes. Keep Brenna out of trouble. Keep Grant from killing Brenna.”
“But we have classes booked every week for the next three weeks.”
“Then we’ll go in four weeks.”
“But what if we have classes then?”
“Dane, Beth Ann and I are going to have our damn honeymoon, whether or not it fits into your precious schedule. Now you’re starting to sound like Grant.”
“Fuck off, man. I’m just thinking of the business.”
All right, time for her to step in and distract them before things got ugly. Brenna opened the front door and yawned loudly, alerting them to her presence. “Morning, boys.”
They both nodded at the sight of her. Dane sat at the wooden desk that he shared with Colt, which was a pretty nice desk when it wasn’t covered with magazines, books, old coffee mugs, and various other crap. Colt, naturally, was seated on the couch, staring at the Xbox. And both had stopped talking.
Screw that. She smiled brightly at them. “So what’s up? I heard something about a honeymoon?”
“Romeo here wants to abandon us for a few weeks and take his new missus up to Alaska and visit the cabin,” Dane said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I told him we had to be responsible adults because of the job.”
Colt glared at Dane. “Not my fault you’ve been roped into a big church wedding, buddy. Don’t take it out on me.”
Dane rubbed a hand down his face, looking frustrated. “God, don’t remind me.”
“You can still back out,” Colt pointed out.
“No, he can’t,” Brenna said cheerfully, moving to her chair and curling up cross-legged. “Then Miranda and Beth Ann will never talk to either one of you again.”
“Miranda wants a big wedding, so that’s what she’ll get,” Dane said, though he sounded a little weary at the thought. “Who’d have thought I’d end up with the high-maintenance girl?”
Colt snorted.
Dane just smiled that silly, lovesick expression he had on his face every time someone mentioned Miranda.
Brenna put a finger to her mouth and pantomimed gagging. “You two are pathetic.”
“You’re just jealous,” Dane said cheerfully.
“Nope. I just feel sorry for any women who have to put up with you two clowns.” She pulled a box of Pop-Tarts out of her desk and sighed when she realized it was empty. “Who was supposed to buy groceries for the lodge?”
“You,” Colt said.
“Oh crap. That’s right. I forgot.” Brenna tossed the box over onto Grant’s immaculate desk and shrugged. “Anyone for a donut run?”
Two male hands went up.
“Ok. I’ll get my keys.” She dug through the messy drawer of her desk until she located her keys, held them aloft, and then bounced out of her chair. “Be back in ten minutes.”
“Hey, Bren,” Dane called. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
She turned and snapped her fingers. “Right. If Pop asks, one of the four-wheelers looks a little low on two tires. Can you get him to take a look at it?”
“I think he meant your pants,” Colt drawled.
She glanced down at her legs. She wore a pair of men’s boxer shorts. SpongeBob SquarePants. “What’s wrong with my pants?”
“They’re missing,” Colt pointed out dryly. “Along with your shoes.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to the donut store, not the prom. Like I said, I’ll be back in five.” And she made sure to wiggle her bare feet as she left.
BY THE TIME SHE RETURNED with a box of fresh donuts and a tray of hot coffees, she was disappointed to see that Grant was up. He frowned at the sight of her bare legs and boxer shorts and ratty T-shirt. Hey, at least she’d brushed her hair. She gave him an arch smile as she entered the room, setting the donuts down in front of Colt on the coffee table and snagging a coffee.
“Morning, boss,” she said in her sweetest voice, because she knew it would drive Grant crazy. She grabbed a donut and headed back to her desk.
Grant frowned over at her as she sat down. “Don’t eat that at your desk, Brenna. You’ll get crumbs into your keyboard.”
She deliberately took a messy bite of donut, half the food falling out of her mouth and dribbling crumbs all over her desk.
He sighed and turned away, his hands going to the pockets of his slacks as he paced before the fireplace. It was before nine and the man already looked immaculate. Sheesh. She gave him an annoyed look as she ate, noting his dark gray slacks with a pleat pressed into them, the lighter gray sweater he wore over a black collared shirt. Even his hair looked perfect. Tousled, perfectly styled waves that probably wouldn’t look that way without a ton of product. He was perfectly shaven, not a hair out of place. And he was frowning as the two other men attacked the donuts as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks.
“Have you two looked at the schedule for today?” Grant asked them.
“Schedule?” Dane said in a deliberately blank voice, then scarfed half a donut in one bite. “We have a schedule?”
Colt shrugged.
“I have a schedule today,” Grant said. “We have a carpenter coming out to look at the area we’ve roped off for the paintball course so we can see what needs to be built. I need one of you to be here.”
“I can’t,” Dane said. “Miranda wants to go in to Houston so we can talk to someone about flowers for the wedding.”
Colt raised a hand and made a noise that sounded like a whip, but Dane only gave them the same good-natured, lovesick grin.
“So you’ll do it, Colt?”
“I can meet with him,” Brenna volunteered, putting down her coffee. “Just show me what needs to be done and I can get with the carpenter.”
Grant glanced over at her and then turned back to Colt. “So you’ll do it, Colt?”
She was tempted to throw her donut at the back of Grant’s immaculate head. Jerk.
Colt shrugged. “Fine.”
“Good. I have to be at the airport this afternoon to pick up family, otherwise I’d take care of it.”
Brenna choked on her coffee. She began to cough, grabbing a wad of napkins and covering her mouth as she struggled to get her breath. Dane came over to her side and began to pound on her back with one of his big meat hook hands, nearly knocking her back off the chair again.
So now was probably not the best time to mention to Grant that she’d sabotaged his car.
Without the fuel pump fuse, it wouldn’t start. She’d figured it’d be a lot of fun to see him get all flustered and irritated, and then Pop could spend the afternoon trying to figure out what was wrong with the car. It was two birds with one stone, really. She’d keep Pop busy and annoy Grant at the same time.
Except, well, she hadn’t looked at the calendar either. She glanced over at it. Sure enough, it was circled in red and said very clearly, airport.
Oops.
“Something wrong, Brenna?” Grant’s frown was directed at her, as if he could sense what she’d done.
She decided to take the heat off her. Between coughs, she said, “I think we should have a company meeting to discuss what we’re going to do when Colt leaves for two weeks.”
Grant immediately turned his frown to Colt. “You’re leaving?”
Colt glared at Brenna. “You suck.”
She gave him a thumbs up between coughs. Right back atcha.
“Where are you going?”
Colt leaned back on the couch until he could see Grant’s head. “Beth Ann wants a honeymoon and we’re low on cash, so I thought I’d take her up to the cabin in Alaska for a few weeks. Just the two of us. She likes alone time.”
“But what about classes?”
“Dane can do ’em. This is our slow period anyhow.”
“That’s why we’re setting up the paintball course,” Grant said, frowning and moving to snag the last coffee. “So there wouldn’t be a slow period. We’ve already advertised it in all the nearby papers that it�
��s going to be live as of December first. I’m already getting calls about it. I need you here.”
“It’s paintball,” Colt said patiently. “Can’t Pop handle it?”
“Pop’s already pretty busy,” Dane said, earning him a scowl from Colt. “Don’t look at me like that. He is always busy. Brenna keeps him hopping.”
Colt glanced at Grant. “You going to run it for us, then?”
“My family’s in town, so I’m going to be busy with them for the next few weeks.” Grant tugged at his collar as if it were too tight. That was impossible. The man probably had his clothes tailored so he could look perfect at all times. Brenna rolled her eyes at the thought and wiped the crumbs off her keyboard. “And Dane’s going to want some time off around the holidays, too. It’s like we need another set of hands.”
“Maybe you should take over some of the classes,” Brenna said to Grant.
This time, three sets of eyes turned to glare at her.
Brenna hid her smile behind a look of mock-innocence. “What’d I say?”
Grant shook his head, dismissing her comment. “I’m needed in the office to organize things since my assistant is so very lacking.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
He ignored her and turned back to the two guys. “Do you think Pop can handle an extra workload?”
Dane shrugged. “Why don’t we hire another trainer? I’m getting kind of tired of having back-to-back classes. Throw in the paintball and it doesn’t sound like we’re ever going to get a day off.”
“Where are we going to find another survival expert?”
“I’ll do it,” Brenna volunteered. When they turned to look at her again, she shrugged. “I’m the assistant. Let me assist.”
“We need someone with certifications,” Grant said, warming up to the subject. He stalked over to Brenna’s desk. “Write this down, Brenna. We need someone physically fit, preferably in top condition. Someone who’s personable and good with all kinds of people, from kids to businessmen. Someone with a lot of background in survival training. We’d need a list of what classes they’ve taken and what teaching skills they have. And we’ll pay for relocation.”
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