Catching sight of movement at the back of the room, I looked up and—
Oh. My. Gosh.
He wasn’t supposed to be here yet! The clock on the back wall read 6:44 pm, not 7:00 pm, and I was mortified. Colton was early. How long had he been standing there? The look of amusement on his face, the brightness in those eyes, told me it had been a while. Even as my jaw dropped, I couldn’t look away.
“Well, don’t stop now,” Betty said, voice hushed. Apparently, no one else had noticed our new visitor. They were so into the story. “We’re finally at the good part.”
Colton sat at the back of the room, making himself right at home on a floral sofa, and then he lifted that brow, the pierced one. I couldn’t be sure, but the move was so perfect, so challenging, I wondered if he practiced it in a mirror.
“Yeah, come on, girl,” this from George Trask, a man who was nice enough but could be a pill if anything interrupted his daily schedule. “Jeopardy starts in few minutes, and I can’t miss my show.”
“You can’t leave us hanging like this,” Cora added.
She was right. They all were. Why should I care what Colton thought anyway? These people depended on me, and there was no way I was going to be intimidated. Lifting my chin to where Colton sat, in a cool tone, I said, “If you’d be willing to wait, we’re almost done here.”
“Oh, hello, Colton dear,” Betty called to him like he was a long-lost friend. “You’ll wait, won’t you? This is a very important scene.”
Colton held up his hands. “Hey, I’ve got no problem with that. I want to see what happens with Blackwood and his girl as much as anyone else.”
Of course, he did, I thought as he shot me a grin.
Clearing my throat, I took a deep breath then picked up where we had left off.
Pippa’s breathing was erratic. Her heart pounded in her breast as Laird Blackwood’s hand made the slow journey up her thigh to cup her backside, a place no other man had ever touched.
“Wrap your legs around me, lass,” Laird Blackwood said, voice rough and heated.
Just like that, her legs wound themselves around him seemingly of their own accord. They had begun to weaken some time ago, and now they rested high on Laird Blackwood’s hips. The man groaned at her easy acquiescence.
“Good girl,” he growled.
“Oh,” Pippa cried out as he buried his head into her neck, leaving kisses and little bites up and down the column of her throat. “Laird Blackwood, please!”
His hips thrust up once in response, making both of them moan.
“Tell me what you want, lass.”
She hardly knew. Even if Pippa did know what she wanted, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to ask him for it. Not out loud, not here in his study surrounded by his amazing collection of books. It was improper. It went against everything she had ever been taught growing up. Libraries were sacred and no place for such dalliances.
I stuttered on that last bit and definitely did not look at Colton. I could feel his grin from across the room, but I decided to do the smart thing and kept my eyes to myself. Looking back down, I kept reading.
Laird Blackwood had no clue where her thoughts had wandered. If he had, he might not have spoken so rashly or so honestly. As it was, his mind so addled by passion and the heady feel of her warmth around him, he said exactly what he had been thinking.
“Your arse is lovely.” He gave it a squeeze, causing Pippa to gasp in affronted delight. “Your body is so responsive.” His lips pressed against her fluttering pulse. “Most days I walk around hard, and it’s all because of you.”
I gulped. That last part was bad enough, but did I seriously have to say this next bit? Yes, I thought. Yes, you do have to read it Sadie Day because you are not a goody-two-shoes. You are not too nice, and you are definitely not a coward.
I plunged into the last section, again, keeping my eyes on the words in front of me.
Pippa clutched the back of his neck, forcing him to look up at her. When she looked into his sable brown eyes, she saw hunger and strength and a fierceness she had come to associate with the brash Scottish highlander. It awakened something inside of her, and she could remain silent no longer.
“Take me, Laird Blackwood,” she breathed. “I have an ache inside, and I believe you are the only man who can ease it. Will you help me? Please?”
“Aye, lass,” he said, taking her mouth once more in a fierce kiss. “I’ve got you.”
My voice cracked on the last word. Why me? I asked not for the first time this week. Was it possible to die of embarrassment? I’d have to Google that later.
When I looked up, the Shady Grove residents hadn’t moved a muscle. Their eyes were glued on me (or heads turned in my general direction for those who could no longer see). Even George Trask, the grumpy curmudgeon that he was, had his good ear turned my way. I guess they were waiting for what happened next, but we were done for the day. So done.
“That’s the end of the chapter,” I mumbled. “We’ll pick up here next time.”
George was the first to start moving, grumbling about “missing the first part of Jeopardy,” the others not far behind. Many of them were talking about the book as they walked/wheeled toward their rooms. Some of them even thanked me for reading which was so nice but completely unnecessary. I hadn’t checked to see if Colton had moved yet, hadn’t even glanced his way. It like seemed the safest course of action.
Betty fanned herself. “Well…that was some finish. Now, I’m just dying to read the next chapter.”
“Me, too,” Cora said. “That Quinn Phillips sure does know how to write a racy scene.”
As Colton walked up to us, I kept my eyes averted. “And you? What did you think?”
“I liked the part about the library.”
My eyes shot straight to his at that. There was nothing innocent about the look in those baby blues.
“I never realized that was something girls were into,” Colton said. “But I’m starting to see the appeal.”
I could not believe he’d just said that.
“Oh yes,” Betty said, a matching gleam in her eyes. “It’s a bookworm thing, I think. A library, the nooks and shadowy corners, all those books looking on, it’s the perfect place for romance. Don’t you think so, Cora?”
“I do,” Cora said. “And I’m sure most book lovers would agree.”
I had to break up this little conversation before it went any more off the rails. “The author, Mrs. Phillips, wouldn’t take that view,” I said. “Even in the heat of the moment, the heroine questions herself and if that was the right place to do…what they were doing.”
Colton lifted his eyebrows. “Yeah, but she also wrote that scene. I think it’s safe to say she knows it can feel good to be bad.”
“Here, here!” Betty said. It was a good thing she’d jumped in because I had no comeback. “So, Colton, I see you took what we spoke about to heart. What do you and Sadie have planned for tonight?”
“It’s a secret,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, “but I can tell you it has to do with her list.”
“Say no more.” Betty held up her hands and took Cora’s elbow, helping the other woman stand from her chair. Cora may have been ninety-two, I thought, but she moved faster at that moment than I’d ever seen her. “Have a great time. We won’t keep you—but I will say one thing.”
The two older ladies stepped up to Colton, and standing there, they looked tiny in comparison to his six-foot-two height.
“You’re a lovely boy, Colton,” Betty said, looking up into his eyes. “I have a lot of faith in you as I’ve already said. Don’t let our Sadie get hurt. If you do…well, let’s just say my third husband taught me how to shoot a bullseye at a hundred paces. I have a shotgun under my bed, and my favorite movie is Misery.”
Colton’s face was frozen, and my jaw had dropped during her little speech. Betty had delivered her threat without flinching, but I knew a least some of her statement was false. The only things under her
bed were several pairs of fabulous shoes, a box of old records and three hatboxes of love letters from her fans. And her favorite movie wasn’t Misery. Betty’s favorite movie was the same as mine: Pride and Prejudice, the BBC version with Colin Firth. I couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Colton’s face.
“She’s kidding,” I said.
He nodded but didn’t look like he totally believed me.
“You just take care of our Sadie,” Betty said.
“Or else,” Cora added and sent him an overly flirty wink. The two of them left, cackling as they walked down the hall to their rooms.
Once they’d turned the corner, Colton looked at me and said, “You have some crazy friends.”
“Hey,” I sniffed, “they’re wonderful, and I love them. You’re just jealous.”
“Whatever. You ready to go?” he said, shuddering. “We can talk about the list in my car. This place gives me the creeps.”
I laughed, couldn’t help it.
“Aw Colton,” I said, leading him out, “don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the scary senior citizens.”
He shook his head again, and we didn’t speak until we were in his car. Colton drove a pristine white Camaro; it was only a few years old, so not vintage, but still a very pretty vehicle. It was mid-sized with two doors, two font seats and a smallish backseat. As I sat on the passenger side, him in the driver’s seat, Colton turned on the engine to let the car heat up. It was November and chilly by North Carolina standards.
“So, what are we doing?” I asked.
“I figured we should set some ground rules,” he said, pulling something out of his pocket and unfolding it. “Since there’s money and my pride on the line, this isn’t really just about you anymore.”
He handed the paper to me, and my eyes widened as I read aloud.
“I, Sadie Day, hereby promise to do whatever my coach, Colton Bishop, says for the next 30 days or until all 22 of the items on the attached Carpe Diem List have been completed—with the exception of items #1 and #2.” I stopped here to shoot him a glare. “What the heck is this?”
Colton crossed his arms, sitting back in his seat. “It’s a contract.”
“A contract?” I repeated. “Are you serious? I already told you I’m not doing anything you say. You must be crazy if you think I’d be dumb enough to sign this.”
“Keep reading,” Colton said. “We both have something to lose now. If we’re doing this, Sadie, it’s important that we trust each other. This will keep us on track.”
Trust him? Ha!
“You said you wanted to complete your list.”
Rolling my eyes, I looked down and kept reading. “I promise to help Colton Bishop win the bet against his brother, Kyle Bishop, at all costs. And I will not, under any circumstances, lose on purpose (aka not complete certain tasks just to let Kyle win).” My cheeks reddened, remembering Kyle’s request to do just that, though I knew he’d been joking. “Colton, I would never cheat! How could you even—”
“Keep reading, Sadie,” he said.
“In return, Colton Bishop promises not to abuse his power and will only use his authority over Sadie to help her complete her list,” I finished in a rush, having to go back and read a second time to really understand the meaning. “Wait,” I said, “does this mean I only have to do what you say when it’s to help my cause?”
Colton gave an exaggerated slow nod and said, “Finally, she gets it. Give the girl a prize or something. There’s one final provision, and I suggest you read it carefully.”
Right there, below where I’d stopped, was one final sentence. It was bold and underlined.
It read (and I’m being completely serious): I promise NOT to fall in love with Colton Bishop—no matter how hot and irresistible he is.
I snorted a laugh. “Fall for you? Irresistible? As if.”
“I notice you didn’t dispute the ‘hot’ part,” Colton said.
“I do dispute it,” I said. “I totally dispute the ‘hot’ part.”
“Too late,” he said. “The fact that you think I’m hot isn’t a problem, Sadie. Falling for me would be, though, and it’s been known to happen. Especially when the girls are as innocent and naïve as you.”
I ignored that last dig, chose not to argue—Colton Bishop was hot, so hot, and the worst part was…he knew it. Instead I focused on his signature at the bottom. His name was written in close, slanted cursive. There was a line right next to it where my name was supposed to go—if I signed.
“Okay, let’s say I go along with this,” I said. “Let’s say I believe that you’re not just in this for yourself and the money. What happens if we don’t complete the list?”
“We will.”
“But what if we don’t?”
“If we don’t, then after 30 days, we forget about the list, and I pay Kyle.” Colton grimaced, his eyes hard. “But that’s not going to happen.”
“How can you sound so confident?” I asked. “It’s taken me months to even do that first thing, and we still have a lot more left.”
“Back then you didn’t have me in your corner,” he said, and there was the arrogant side of Colton that I knew so well. “I never lose, Sadie. I’m not losing this either.”
“Did you even read my list?” I asked.
“Yeah, a few times,” he said, a grin forming as I flushed. “It’s an entertaining read. We need to work our way from the easiest up to the hardest. I think that’s the best way to go.”
Could I really sign this? I thought. Everything seemed to be on the up and up, but Colton was a sneaky little bugger. If I gave him this power, would he use it to make me say or do stupid things? He said he wanted to help, and I wanted to believe him. Like he pointed out, he would lose something, too, if I failed. More than anything, though, I really, really wanted to seize the freaking day…
Before I could think too much about it, I signed my name above his.
“Good choice,” he said, taking the paper, placing it in his pocket.
“Where did you get the idea for a contract anyway?” I asked.
Colton shrugged. “Fifty Shades of Grey.”
“Seriously?” I choked on air. “Colton that is so messed up.”
“Sadie, please,” he said, “as if you have room to talk after the reading you did for those horny old people. How often do you do that anyway?”
“It’s romance.” I sat there shaking my head. “And they pick the books, not me.”
Colton’s lips tilted upward. “Sure, they do.”
“They do,” I insisted. Though there was no denying, I did love a good romance. “I just read what they like.”
“Okay, I believe you,” he said. “No need to get upset. It’s not like you care what I think anyway. Right?”
“Right,” I said, crossing my arms. “It was just a shock. That’s all.”
“What was?”
“The fact that you can read,” I said sweetly.
“Nice,” he said, though I couldn’t tell if he was offended or amused. “Now, let’s get serious. Your list. Are you ready to start?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “For your first task, I’m going to need you to grab my stick.”
My eyes went saucer-wide. Did he really just say… “Wh-what?”
“Damn.” Colton laughed quietly. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Sadie.”
As I spluttered, he pulled the paper back out of his pocket and flipped to the second page which was a printed a copy of my list. I noticed that the one about my first kiss (#14) had been crossed off. Also, right under “Carpe Diem List,” Colton had written “S’s Naughty List.” I bet he’d gotten a real kick out of that.
“Right there,” he said, pointing about a third of the way down the page, “number 10, learn to drive a stick shift. It’s not that hard. Just grab on, and I’ll show you how to handle a stick.”
His eyes were laughing at me as I placed my hand on the gear shift and muttered under my breath.
I had a feeling it was going to be a long 30 days.
“Just so you know, Colt said you’re banned from ever driving his car again.” Kyle looked far too happy about this as we walked to lunch together. In fact, he was practically skipping. “Good going, Sadie. I think you permanently scarred him with your non-existent driving skills.”
“Hey,” I said, “I’m an awesome driver. You know I always go the speed limit and stop on yellows.”
“Yeah, it’s incredibly annoying,” Kyle said.
I bumped him with my shoulder.
“Colt said he was in fear for his life.”
“Yeah well, he distracted me,” I muttered.
“How’d he do that?”
Oh, I don’t know, I thought. It could’ve been how he just had to comment on every single thing I did. Or how he kept jumping, grabbing the sides of his seat when I shifted to another gear. Or how he kept staring at me with this look of horror on his face. I mean, yes, it had taken me a little while to get used to it (I’d never fully gotten the hang of the whole clutch-shift-then-gas-as-you-come-off-the-clutch rhythm), but by the end, I was able to drive around the block three times with only a few minor hiccups.
“He was being so dramatic,” I said. “Like we were going to die every time I had to shift, or we stalled out. It wasn’t like I was going off the road or anything. We were totally safe.”
“I heard you got pulled over,” he said back.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, because I didn’t have my lights on, and it was after seven. The officer let us off with a warning.” Because I’d cried like a baby, I mentally added. I’d never gotten pulled over before, and I hoped it would never happen again. “It wasn’t too bad.”
“I heard you cried a lot.”
Of course, Colton had to tell him that.
“Yeah, it was definitely an ugly cry moment,” I said. “But it could’ve been worse.”
“Did my brother act like a jerk?” Kyle asked.
The Good Girl's Guide to Being Bad Page 8