Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Find love in unexpected places with these satisfying Lovestruck reads… Seduced by the Soldier
Three Day Fiancee
The Attraction Equation
One Sexy Mistake
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Mariah Ankenman. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
10940 S Parker Rd
Suite 327
Parker, CO 80134
[email protected]
Lovestruck is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Stacy Abrams and Judi Lauren
Cover design by Bree Archer
Cover photography by Pekic and FollowTheFlow/Getty Images
ISBN 978-1-68281-526-7
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition January 2020
Dear Reader,
Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.
xoxo
Liz Pelletier, Publisher
To my very own computer geek.
Thanks for always supporting me, encouraging me, fixing the computer so I don’t toss it into the wall, and making sure I have three backups at all times.
Chapter One
There are many things a woman can do the night of her best friend’s wedding: A) enjoy three slices of cake because it’s a celebration, B) wallow in the misery of her singledom, C) dance the night away until her new bridesmaid shoes make her feet blister, or D) hook up with an insanely hot stranger at the hotel bar.
Lilly Walsh had chosen option D.
Oh boy, did she choose D.
Okay, so she’d also picked A, because everyone knows calories don’t count when it comes to wedding cake, but the other choice was the one currently freaking her out.
Last night came rushing back to her in full Technicolor. She remembered the beautiful, intimate wedding of her best friend and business partner, Pru, to the woman’s lifelong friend, Finn Jamison. There had been happy tears and sad ones, mostly from the happy couple’s adorable six-month-old twins, who detested their wedding attire and let everyone in the entire hotel ballroom know it.
Food had been delicious and drinks flowing. Lilly had partaken mostly in the food because melancholy set in after one glass of champagne. As one-third owner of Mile High Happiness, Lilly was used to planning weddings and seeing others’ joy, but last night had struck a deep chord. One she hadn’t realized existed.
She was lonely.
After the happy couple had been sent on their way, the festivities over, the magic of the evening ended, Lilly found herself gravitating toward the hotel bar. Pathetic? Maybe, but seeing her friend exceptionally happy caused an ache inside she desperately needed to soothe. Not one for hookups; she didn’t have any of those apps on her phone. She couldn’t explain why she took a seat at the polished, dark wooden bar, ordered a vodka and cranberry from the bartender, and scanned the room for a friendly eye.
She’d felt like she was part of a cheesy movie cliché and nearly left, but then she spotted…him.
“What did the pirate say on his eightieth birthday?”
Lilly glanced up from her drink, startled to see the attractive stranger she’d locked eyes with had come over to stand beside her.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He grinned, and her heart skipped a beat. Talk about a panty-melting smile.
“What did the pirate say on his eightieth birthday?”
“Um, what?”
The stranger’s smile widened as he closed one eye and swung his arm like a buccaneer. “Ayyyyy matey!”
She tilted her head in confusion.
“Get it?” the man asked. “I’m eighty. Because he’s a pirate, and they say matey, which sounds like eighty, and—”
Covering her mouth, Lilly let out an unexpected laugh at the corny joke.
“Sorry.” He shrugged, grin going sheepish. “I know it’s a lame joke, but you looked like you needed a little laugh.” He indicated the empty chair next to her. “May I sit?”
Though he’d used the corniest pickup line she’d ever heard, Lilly had found the man funny and extremely attractive. She’d invited him to sit, where they talked until the bartender announced last call.
“Mmmmmm.”
The deep rumble of the sleepy murmur vibrated along her spine, sending tingling sensations to all her good parts. Good parts the body responsible for the sound had attended to very, very thoroughly last night.
She’d done it. Prim and proper Lilly Walsh had partaken in a one-night stand.
The woman who made a list for everything from groceries to what book she was going to read next had gone off the beaten path and taken a veritable stranger to bed to have her wicked way with him.
And how ravenously wicked it had been. Perhaps it had been the anonymity or the knowledge that she would never see him again, but last night she’d let herself go in a way she never had before.
A flush heated her skin as she remembered all the ways they’d touched and tasted each other. All the inhibitions she’d left on the floor along with her midnight-blue bridesmaid dress and three-inch heels. Pride swelled in her chest at the knowledge that she’d been a veritable sex goddess, giving and receiving more pleasure than she had with any other man, ever.
Exactly half a millisecond later, her flush of pride turned into scorching embarrassment.
I slept with a stranger!
Not entirely true. She knew his name. Lincoln…something. Okay, she knew his first name. That had to count, right?
Oh dear God, I’ve become my mother.
Again, not entirely true. She’d only slept with Lincoln after knowing him all of two hours, not married the guy. A quick glance to the ring finger of her left hand confirmed as much. Not that she couldn’t remember the evening in vivid detail.
The strong arm draped across her chest tightened as Lincoln mumbled in his sleep again. The man was a sleep talker, she’d discovered. See! She knew him…slightly.
His large palm started to drift toward her breast, caressing the sensitive skin in an unconscious manner. A yearning ache woke between her thighs, and she mentally told her lady parts to calm down. They’d gotten th
eir fun last night. Numerous times, as she recalled.
Now a stealthy escape was in order.
Having never engaged in a hook-up-type situation before, she really didn’t know the rules for this. Was she supposed to leave before he woke up? Go grab him breakfast? Wait for him to get her room service? Have another go before she hightailed it out of there?
Honestly, the last option sounded the most tempting. However, if she stayed for round two—or five, technically—she might never leave, and wouldn’t that make her look pathetic and clingy? She remembered Lincoln had said something about just arriving in town to visit some friends or reconnect with friends, but whatever he’d said, it was obvious the guy wasn’t local.
Not good for the long term. Long distance rarely worked.
She should leave now, before he woke up, and keep this as a nice memory she could take out on lonely nights.
Or boring nights.
Late nights.
Any and every night.
Slowly, she shifted on the bed, her body screaming in protest as her naked flesh rubbed against the lean, hard, and equally naked body next to her.
What are you doing? You have two more condoms in your purse. Put them to good use!
She told her raging libido to stuff it and gently lifted Lincoln’s arm off her chest to make her escape. He grumbled in his sleep, rolling over as she quietly slipped out of bed. Thank God he seemed to be a heavy sleeper. Now all she had to do was find her clothes, get dressed, and make a run for it.
No, that made it sound like she regretted what happened last night, and she most certainly did not. It might have been out of character for her, a bit naughty and completely off the wall, but she didn’t regret it. Slight embarrassment? Sure. Regret? Not a chance.
Besides, it wasn’t like anyone had to know. It could be her little secret. Her naughty little secret. A small giggle escaped her lips at that thought, and she slapped a hand over her mouth, the noise sounding incredibly loud in the silent morning air of the hotel room.
“Get the cat off the dresser. He’s an orange conductor.”
Wow. Heavy sleeper and talked nonsense in his sleep. Lincoln was just a cornucopia of interesting quirks. No. No he wasn’t. He was a good time she could put in her spank bank, and that was all. Oh, crap, she had to get out of here before she did something rash like wake the man up to jump his bones again.
Glancing around, she frantically searched for her clothing. The room was slightly fuzzy due to the fact that she’d slept in her contacts. A stupid thing to do, but she’d worn them for the wedding and hadn’t brought her glasses, not expecting to spend the night anywhere but at home.
Ah, there! Her dress was strewn across a chair in the corner. Hurrying over, she almost tripped on her heels at the foot of the bed. A memory of Lincoln bending her over the end of the bed, taking her from behind while she wore nothing but those shoes he erotically referred to as “Fuck Me Shoes,” entered her mind. Another flush rose on her skin, but this one came with a longing. A longing she was adamant to deny if she ever wanted to get out of here. And she did. Totally. Very anxious to leave. Yup. No reason to stay.
But her gaze drifted back to the bed and the sinfully sexy man sleeping blissfully. While he lay there, without a care in the world, her mind raged with the inner battle of the century.
Stay or go?
Go. She had to go. If only because she wanted to stay so badly.
There was no future with him. He was a fling, a fun night, a walk on the wild side. Besides, the man didn’t even live here. She didn’t go for the long-distance thing. Lincoln was temporary, and so were they.
Hurrying over to her dress, she shoved the garment on, grateful her friend had chosen a stretchy fabric and simple cut. She didn’t think she could handle a ton of buttons or zippers this morning. She grabbed her heels, opting to put them on once she left the room for stealth reasons. Now all she needed was… Crap! Where the hell were her panties?
I threw them to the wind last night. Much like my caution.
Great, deny herself a little sex and her inner voice became a raging bitch. Hadn’t last night been enough? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so many non-self-induced orgasms. Seriously, how greedy could one woman get?
She had to leave before she fell into the temptation of another round. She didn’t think she could walk away from this man in the light of day.
But he’s right there!
Amazing how her inner voice sounded a lot like her free-loving hippie roommate, Moira.
Giving up on the pantie search, Lilly debated writing a note but ultimately decided against it. What the hell would she say? Thanks for the hot night of sex? Ew. That sounded…wrong. Last night had been much more than hot sex, anyway. She’d felt a spark, a rush of heat, an instant connection the moment she met Lincoln’s pale hazel eyes across the bar. Maybe that was the reason she felt this clawing need to escape. This was supposed to be a fun one-night stand. Nothing more.
Lilly quietly grabbed her small clutch from the TV stand and slipped out the hotel room door. In less than ten minutes, a cab dropped her off at her apartment. The perks of living in the city of Denver—what had once been called the hook-up capital of Colorado—the driver didn’t even glance sideways at her appearance, which she assumed screamed “walk of shame.”
She walked the flight of stairs to her apartment, sliding the key in the lock and pushing the door open with a sigh of relief. Her relief, however, was short-lived as she entered the kitchen area to see her roommate sitting at the table, coffee mug in hand, sly smile on her pixie face.
“Why, Lilly Walsh,” Moira Rossi said with a waggle of her pale blond eyebrows. “I do believe you were wearing that exact dress last night.”
Lifting her chin, Lilly headed toward the coffee pot and the heavenly smells emanating from it. “You know it, since you were wearing the same exact dress, Mo.”
“Ah, yes, but it’s eight thirty in the morning, and I’m wearing my pajamas now. And slept in my own bed last night.”
Of all the mornings for her night-owl friend to be awake, why did she have to choose this one?
“Could it be our dear Lilly Walsh, champion of making a man wait until date eleven, has gone and had herself a sexual liaison?”
Lilly took her time grabbing a mug and pouring a teaspoon of creamer and a dash of sugar in before filling the mug with coffee and turning to face her smug roommate. “Maybe.”
“Wahoo!” Mo pumped her fists in the air. “‘Walk of success’!”
Stirring the brain juice, Lilly came to sit at the table. “Don’t you mean ‘walk of shame’?”
“Pfft.” Mo waved a hand in the air. “Hell no. A shame would be if you spent all night with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy and didn’t get any. I assume from your rosy complexion and satisfied glow, you got it and then some.”
She had indeed. But wait. “How do you know he’s tall, dark, and sexy?”
“Aha!” Mo pointed a finger. “I didn’t; you just confirmed it.”
Crap! Her friend was far too crafty, considering the flower-child persona she played up.
“But it doesn’t matter if he was tall or short, dark or pale, muscular or had a rocking dad-bod. All that matters is he got you where you needed to go. The spark is all that matters.”
She and Lincoln didn’t have spark; they had burned the city down with fireworks. But even so, Lilly didn’t believe in the romantic notion of soul mates the way her friends did. She, Pru, and Mo all believed everyone deserved to have their special day with the one they loved, which was why they had started Mile High Happiness, their wedding planning company. Well, that and weddings were a very lucrative business venture. The average couple spent more than twenty-eight thousand dollars on their wedding. That was a lot of money for one day, and the women tried their best to ensure all couples got the dream wedding that
would kickstart their happily ever afters.
But since 40 percent of marriages ended in divorce, she knew happily ever after wasn’t for everyone. After all, her mother was currently on her fourth “soul mate.”
“Lead with your heart, Lilly dear, and love will always find you.”
Her mother’s oft-said advice rang with the blare of a warning bell in her mind. If leading with her heart got her what her mother had—a string of bad husbands and multiple broken hearts—she’d lead with her head, thank you very much.
Love at first sight? Spark? Soul mate? These were simply words people invented to excuse their rash decision to jump into huge, life-altering changes too soon. She’d seen it before. A couple so enamored with each other they couldn’t see the problems ahead for the stars in their eyes. Mark her words, those who rushed in would rush right back out when they discovered that spark didn’t last.
You had to have substance, compatibility. You couldn’t just see someone and know. Love didn’t work that way.
“Are you seeing him again?”
Only in her dreams.
“I highly doubt it. He’s from out of town.”
Mo gasped, placing a hand to her heart. “Your first one-night stand. Oh, my precious Lil. I’m so proud of you. Look at you stretching your sexual wings.”
That didn’t even make sense.
“I can’t wait to tell Pru when she gets back from her honeymoon.”
“Don’t you dare!” She might have enjoyed last night, but she didn’t want to go broadcasting it to the world. Attention, all! Lilly Walsh slept with a man whose last name she doesn’t even know. Might as well start wearing clothes fifteen years too young for her and becoming her mother now. “This was an impulsive, one-time thing induced by an overwhelming mix of emotions at seeing my best friend get married to the man she loves.”
“Hey!” Mo stuck her bottom lip out. “I thought I was your best friend.”
“What, are we in grade school? A person can have more than one best friend, Moira.”
“Then say it.”
She sighed, knowing the tiny woman wasn’t going to give up until she did as commanded. “You are also my best friend.”
The Best Man Problem (Mile High Happiness) Page 1