A loud scuffle of shoes at the door drew them apart just enough to turn and look.
Gavin, Del, and Malcolm skidded into the room followed by Thea. “Oh my God! We couldn’t get in!” Thea said. “What did we miss?”
They all stopped at the same time and stared, taking in Mack’s hands on Liv’s back, her hands in his hair, the freshly kissed plumpness of their lips.
“Oh,” Thea squeaked. “Oh, thank God.”
Del dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He strode forward and shoved a wad of bills at Mack.
“What’s this?” Liv asked, eyebrow raised.
“Congratulations,” Del said. “You finally have a girlfriend.”
Liv backed up, hands on her hips. “Excuse me? You had another bet about me?”
Mack shoved the money in his pocket, drew her back, and silenced her crankiness with his lips. For once, she didn’t mind.
A discreet cough a moment later drew them apart again. A man Liv didn’t recognize had entered the room. With his plain white shirt and khaki twills, he had reporter written all over him.
“Jessica and Alexis said you were the one who started all this,” the man said.
Liv turned around. “We just helped.”
The man shook his head, looking from face to face, recognition dawning as he saw Gavin, Del, and even Vlad.
“I don’t get it. You guys are all, like, famous. What do you have to do with this? I mean, who are you guys?”
Liv watched as the guys did that silent conversation thing—raised eyebrows, shrugs, nods.
Mack grinned down at Liv. She laughed and burrowed her face in his chest.
“Who are we?” Mack said, standing all. “We’re the Bromance-Fucking-Book-Club.”
The reporter raised his eyebrows. “The what now?”
Mack grabbed Liv’s hand. “They’ll explain it,” he said, nodding at the guys. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a happy ever after to start.”
EPILOGUE
Six months later
“Prosecutors announced today that disgraced reality-TV chef Royce Preston has accepted a plea deal for charges of endangerment, embezzlement, and tax evasion. Preston is expected to receive a sentence of sixteen to twenty years in federal prison . . .”
Liv turned down the volume of the TV in her garage apartment and flopped down on the couch next to Braden. “No charges for sexual harassment.”
Braden lifted his arm so Liv could snuggle against him. “He deserves a lot more than twenty years.”
“It was nice of Gretchen to take on the cases of all the women. I can’t believe they need legal protection, but at least she’s doing it pro bono.”
“I’m just glad it’s over,” Braden said, pressing his forehead to her temple. “I’m ready to focus on other things finally.”
“Like the new restaurant?”
“And my hot new pastry chef.”
“Seems risky,” Liv said, turning to straddle his lap. “Hiring your girlfriend? Could be really complicated.”
“I’m willing to take the risk.” Braden’s hands snuck inside her shirt. “Especially if she’s not my girlfriend.”
Liv scrunched her face up. “This is a really weird way to break up with me, Mack.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of going into business with my wife.”
Liv froze. “What did you say?”
“I’m asking you to marry me,” he said, his hands spanning her waist, his heart in his eyes. “I want to come home to you every night and work with you every day. I want you to lean on me on the couch and tell me about your day. I want to make love every night and fight and make love some more.”
She gazed down at him and felt her chest clench at the expression in his eyes. How did this happen? How had she found this man? She covered his lips with hers. His kiss was hungry, probing. She let him plunder her mouth, but she finally grasped his head and held him steady. He obeyed, and then his fingers were at the button of her jeans, his hands tugging impatiently to ease the denim from her hips. She slid off him and reclined on the couch, the need suddenly fueling an inferno inside her.
They made love and promises, and when they were done, he tugged her close to his chest. “You wanna snuggle?”
She pressed her cheek the warm valley over his heart. “Yes.”
“Yes, you want to snuggle? Or yes, you’ll marry me?”
“Both.”
It was actually a while before they got to the snuggling part, because after she said yes, he did things that made her say it a whole bunch of times naked. She collapsed, spent and satisfied, on top of him, and he pulled a blanket over their bodies.
“I love your chest.”
He kissed her head. “It’s yours.”
Liv made a fist and held it out for him to bump. “Partners?”
He brought her fist to his lips. “Forever.”
Photo by Lauren Perry of Perrywinkle Photography
Lyssa Kay Adams read her first romance novel at a very young age when she swiped one from her grandmother’s stash. After a long journalism career in which she had to write too many sad endings, she decided to return to the stories that guaranteed a happy ever after. Once described as “funny, adorable, and a wee bit heartbreaking,” Lyssa’s books feature women who always get the last word, men who aren’t afraid to cry, and dogs. Lots of dogs. Lyssa writes full time from her home in Michigan, where she lives with her sportswriter husband, her wickedly funny daughter, and a spoiled Maltese who likes to be rocked to sleep like a baby. When she’s not writing, she’s cooking or driving her daughter around from one sporting event to the next. Or rocking the dog.
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Undercover Bromance Page 29