Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
He’s also my best friend.
A friend I wish could be more, but he refuses to even consider dating.
He’s convinced he’s too old for me.
But I know he feels the electricity that crackles in the air every time we touch, and I don’t care about our age gap. All I care about is that no one has ever made me feel as safe, understood, or desperate to get naked as Seven does.
So when we end up stranded in the woods together after his daughter pulls a Parent-Trap scheme for the ages, I’m in no hurry to find a way back to civilization.
I intend to take advantage of every second of being trapped in a tiny cabin with this man.
Every moment of sharing that one bed…
Every moment of feeding the fire building between us…
And turns out, Seven feels the same way.
Soon we’re christening every surface in the cabin–and the outdoor tub on the porch–and I’m positive my dreams are coming true.
But can our fledgling relationship survive in the real world? Or will Seven’s determination to “protect” me shatter both our hearts?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Beatrice “Binx” McGuire
A stubborn burrito of a woman stuffed with
recalcitrant beans and topped with obstinate sauce…
I’m insane.
Truly, out of my mind.
That’s the only explanation for why I continue to do this to myself, though Seven has made it abundantly clear that he only wants to be friends.
Friends, that’s it.
Not even friends with benefits or kissing friends or friends who hold hands when they’ve had too many martinis at his mother’s dive bar. I can’t even get a longing look across the bank lobby when he comes in to make a deposit.
And yet, here I am, lingering at the entrance to my brother’s wedding reception in a clingy gold sweater that shows a hint of my black bra underneath, crossing all my fingers that the bearded bad boy of my dreams is about to stride up the hill from the parking area.
“It’s getting late,” Wendy Ann, my little sister says, stretching out on the lounge chair she dragged to the end of the vineyard’s driveway. She has a blanket over her legs, but the night is surprisingly warm for mid-October, the perfect evening for dancing the night away with the people we love. “I’ll make sure no uninvited guests crash the fun. Go enjoy the party. I’ve got this.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll keep you company a little longer.” I glance over my shoulder at the brightly illuminated tent crouched beside the vines. The band just launched into a cover of The Way You Look Tonight, and half of the guests are still in line at the buffet. “They haven’t gotten to the fast songs yet.”
“So?” Wendy Ann asks. “It’s still dancing. You love dancing. I, however, understand that dancing is a gateway drug.”
I arch a brow her way. “To what? Enjoying yourself?”
“To losing focus.” She sniffs and pushes her glasses higher on her nose, though there isn’t much to see out here at this point. The sun set an hour ago, and only the faintest pink light lingers on the horizon, making the surface of the lake glow in the distance. Soon, we won’t be able to see anything beyond the gas lamps flickering along the drive leading down to the parking lot. “And I refuse to lose focus. I have four fellowships to apply for tomorrow.”
I hum beneath my breath, willing the sound of a motorcycle engine to cut through the air. It’s Saturday night, Seven’s one night off kiddo duty, and it’s not like there’s a lot to do in Bad Dog. Surely, he didn’t get a better offer than a McGuire family wedding reception. Yes, the reception is taking place a full month after the bride and groom eloped to Las Vegas, but it’s still going to be a banger.
Say what you will about my family, but we know how to party.
Except for Wendy Ann, my nerdy baby sister, who I’m beginning to think is allergic to fun.
“Oh, come on, you can take one day off,” I say. “Tomorrow is Sunday, the Lord’s Day. And the Lord wants you to stay in bed nursing a hangover and eating nachos. That’s why he invented Sundays.”
She rolls her eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’re not living with Mom and Dad. There’s no sleeping in at that house. Dad’s up by five a.m. slamming cabinets while he makes coffee, and Mom hits the exercise room at five-thirty to blast Jane Fonda.”
My upper lip curls. “That woman is permanently stuck in the 80s. Does she still wear hot pink leggings and the leotards with the string up the butt?”
Wendy Ann shudders. “Yes, and Dad still follows her around like a horny puppy after, patting her sweaty bottom while she makes breakfast.” She sticks out her tongue with a soft gagging sound. “It’s so disturbing. I have to land a position and move out before Thanksgiving, or I’ll lose what’s left of my will to live.”
“Valid,” I say. “Though, you know, you could always crash on my couch, if you wanted. I’m pretty sure Drew has a spare room he hasn’t filled with kids yet, too. He’d probably let you stay for free if you helped out with babysitting every once and a while.”
Wendy Ann sighs. “Thanks, but that would hurt Mom’s feelings, and you know how she is.”
“A living nightmare?” I mutter beneath my breath, not wanting to think about my mother right now.
At the last family wedding, she tried to convince my father to physically subdue me so that she could cover my tattoo with makeup. And she still hasn’t quit giving me shit about shaving my head last January, even though it’s grown out to my chin, and is cut in a shaggy bob that’s pretty cute, if I do say so myself.
I never told her the real reason I shaved my head—that I was helping raise money for Seven’s daughter’s cochlear implant surgery. Even my image-obsessed mother would have been proud of me for helping a deaf girl hear music again, but I didn’t want her understanding because I’d done a good deed. I wanted her to accept that my body is mine and whatever I do with it—tattoos or haircuts or showing a hint of bra under my sweater—is my right.