Also by Kelsie Leverich

The Valentine’s Arrangement

Feel the Rush

Pretending She’s His

A Hard Feelings Novella

Kelsie Leverich

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PRETENDING SHE’S HIS

An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

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Contents

Also by Kelsie Leverich
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine

Acknowledgements
Special Excerpt from THE VALENTINE'S ARRANGEMENT
Special Excerpt from FEEL THE RUSH
About the Author

This book is for my readers. Letting yourself get wrapped up in a fantasy, lost in a make-believe world, is why I love to write. Because

sometimes, you just need to pretend.

Chapter One

“I told you to bring a date.”
Eva sighed and rolled back onto the oversized, king bed. Bring a date to the cabin for an entire

weekend . . . an entire wedding weekend? Meagan really should know her better than that.

“Seriously, Meg?” She propped up onto her elbows and arched her eyebrows at her six-month-

preggo best friend who was about to tie the proverbial knot. “Weekend getaways are one thing.
Weekend getaways surrounded by wedding festivities is in a completely new realm of ‘hell no.’”

Meagan stepped into her swimsuit bottoms and shimmed them up underneath her dress. “Why not?

If you had”—she pulled her sundress over her head and dropped it to the ground—“invited that cutie
you went out with last weekend, then the whole Luke thing wouldn’t even be an issue right now.”

Ah, Luke. Eva had dated him for a little while, but they had been broken up for eight months now.

He was fun. Well, he was more than fun. He was sexy and cocky, and just enough sweet to keep her
interested—for a while. When she started her little rendezvous with him, she never anticipated him
falling for her. Their relationship was easy, and completely, one hundred percent, built around sex.
And that’s all it ever was for Eva—an attraction. But for Luke, it had been more than that. Okay, so
yes, she cared about him. She wasn’t a heartless bitch, for crying out loud. But, she’d never loved
him. It never reached that point for her. And she knew it never would. Eva didn’t fall in love easily.
Actually, she was beginning to think she was incapable of feeling the little pitter-patter that pulsated
around her heart as opposed to the one that pulsated between her legs. Physical attractions—physical
feelings—she had down solid. It was the emotional ones she struggled with.

“Luke isn’t a problem. It’s just . . . awkward,” Eva admitted. Eva never had an issue being around

her exes. But it was different with Luke. She had never been dumped before. She had a tendency to be
the one to bail out of relationships. No need to rewind and take a walk down memory lane to Eva’s
past to determine why she didn’t hang on to a man longer than a few months or why she always
seemed to split before her relationships turned into relationships—because there were no reasons. No
sappy story, no devastated, heart-wrenching breakup that destroyed her for all future men. She just
never felt “it,” plain and simple.

But Luke dumped her, which, granted, she completely understood given his feelings for her and her

lack of feelings for him, but it surprised her. It put a little trip in her step, battered her ego and took a
nice little chunk out of her pride. He was pissed and hurt when he broke up with her and they didn’t
leave things on the best of terms. Awkward was an emotion Eva was unfamiliar with, but she had a
feeling she was going to perfect it this weekend.

Meagan laughed as she attempted to hook her bikini top. She had already been blessed in the boob

department before she was pregnant—and now her fiancé, Reed, was in male heaven. She walked to
the bed and spun around. “Tie this,” she said, handing the straps over to Eva. “Have you talked to
him?”

“I didn’t have a chance to say anything. Your saint of a mother swept in and saved the day, pulling

me away to help her set up for the rehearsal dinner. Then we all went into wedding mode, so I
haven’t run into him yet.”

Eva finished tying the strap around Meagan’s back then swatted her on the ass. “You’re the only

pregnant woman I’ve ever seen who could actually pull off a bikini.”

“And you’re the only single maid of honor I’ve seen who actually refuses to bring the hot man she

just went out on a date with to her best friend’s wedding.”

Eva sighed, causing Meagan’s shoulders to slump and her eyes to soften. Bringing a date to a

wedding felt too . . . serious. Love and commitment and everything else that went along with a
wedding was just too much for a casual date. Bringing someone to a wedding was like staking your
claim on your relationship. Giving it a title or a status—neither of which she wanted.

Standing up off the bed, Eva shimmied out of her shorts and panties and pulled on her bikini

bottoms. “Just point me in the direction of the margaritas, and I will be just fine.”

“Have you heard from Trevor yet?” Meagan questioned, changing the subject, the slight hiccup in

her voice catching Eva’s attention.

Trevor was Meagan’s best friend. He actually held the number one spot, Eva coming in a close

second. Eva was a sergeant in the army stationed at Fort Drum when Trevor came down on orders to
relocate there. Trevor and Meg had been best friends since high school when their parents were
stationed together at the same army post and their friendship picked right back up where it’d left off.
Eva became friends with Trevor by default. He was a cocky SOB who was the epitome of a player.
He looked at women like they were a challenge that he had already won. And it worked. It. Fucking.
Worked. Women flocked to him—batted their eyes and swayed their hips at him with the one little
wink of his eye. She had seen it done time and time again. But as much as she hated to acknowledge
it, he was a good guy. A little slutty, but a good, dependable man—although she would never outright
admit that to him, or anyone else. Trevor didn’t need a boost to his ego, in fact, Eva thoroughly
enjoyed knocking that ego of his down a few notches every now and again.

“Don’t worry, babe. That man has never let you down before. He’ll be here. When he called

earlier, he said he hoped to be here sometime this evening.”

“It’s past this evening, Eva. He missed the entire rehearsal dinner. Are you sure he’s okay?”
Eva laughed. “Yes, he’s fine. If the dumb-ass hadn’t missed his flight he wouldn’t have had to

drive here.”

“I still can’t believe they didn’t have any more flights to Atlanta until tomorrow.”
“Meggy,” Eva coaxed. “Stop worrying and enjoy your last night as a single woman.”
A smile trickled over Meagan’s already glowing features and the lines around her eyes softened.

Eva pulled the elastic band from her wrist and wrapped it around her wild, red curls that seemed
even more out of control in this Georgia heat. She locked her arm with Meagan’s and led her
downstairs to the main level of the cabin that should have been classified as a five-star resort.

“There’re my girls,” Reed said as his eyes fell over Meagan when they stepped out onto the back

deck. His arms wound around her and he pressed a kiss to her stomach before moving those damn
sexy lips to Meagan’s. Eva had to give it to her, she’d snagged a good one.

Reaching behind him, Reed grabbed a Solo cup off the patio table. “Eva,” he lilted, handing the

cup over to her. “I made a pitcher of my famous margaritas, just for you.”

Eva gladly took the cup from his hand and pressed it to her lips. Condensation from the sweating

plastic coated her palm. Pulling the cup away from her mouth she smiled. “I knew you were good for
something, Reed.”

Eva felt someone step up behind her. She didn’t need to see Meagan’s worried expression to

confirm that it was Luke. That man had been pressed behind her so many times that even with a small
distance between their bodies she could tell it was him.

“You gonna get your ass in the water, or do I need to toss you in?” he said from behind. His voice

was casual and easy, and his friendly, subtle flirting surprised her. It reminded her of the Luke she
liked when she first met him. Cocky and flirty. Definitely not the Luke he was the last time she saw
him—when he walked away from her with his asshole hat on after her dumped her.

He was leaning forward, lowering his head close to Eva’s ear. She would be lying like a dog if she

said that she didn’t feel that slight flutter in her stomach when his hot breath hit the side of her neck.
Luke was attractive, and damn good in bed. He was fun, just the way she liked ’em. But regardless,
she didn’t want to go there with him again. Not after the way he ended things between them. Not after
he made her feel like complete shit for hurting him. When Eva got a fucking conscience and actually
gave a damn, she didn’t know. But she did know that she didn’t want to hurt him, not again.

Eva took a cautious step forward out of the immediate proximity of Luke, and spun around on her

heels to face him now that there was enough distance between them. She lifted her eyes to meet his,
and she instantly regretted it. He was watching her—staring at her. Gaging her every little move. And
like the warm-blooded American woman that she was, standing in front of every woman’s ideal
image of the perfectly, sexy American soldier—she was gawking. Dammit.

The corners of his lips lifted, displaying his cocky-ass grin. Eva rolled her eyes. “Hey, big guy.”
“So how about that pool?” he hinted. His eyes travelled down her body and she hated the reaction

her body had from his appreciative stare.

“Eh, maybe in a . . .” Eva trailed off as the clunk of a door shutting gained her attention. “Trevor!”

she shouted, leaning her head to the side to see past Luke’s giant body, which was towering in front of
her. “’Bout damn time!” Trevor couldn’t have timed that better if he’d planned it.

Meagan pulled out of Reed’s embrace and bounded the few steps to the sliding glass door that led

inside the cabin where Trevor had just come from. His arms wound around her and he easily picked
her up, her pregnant belly causing her body to stick out behind it.

Trevor set Meagan back down on her feet and ambled over to Eva. She hoisted her hands on her

hips, feigning her annoyance toward him, and cocked up a golden-red eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look, Red,” he said, his voice turning down an octave—laying his I-get-what-I-

want tone on thick. He stepped into her and snaked his arms out and linked them around her waist,
pressing her up against him as he lifted her off her feet, just like he did Meagan. When he set her
down, he draped his arm over her shoulders, keeping her body against his, tucked into him, then he
kissed the top of her head.

“I missed my girls,” he exclaimed with a huge grin on his face, swinging his other arm around

Meagan’s shoulders and pulling her in as well.

Bumping her hip into him and wrapping her arm around his waist, Eva looked up and smirked. “I

missed your pain-in-the-ass too.”

“Hey, man,” Trevor said, finally making eye contact with Reed who was now standing next to

Luke. He dropped his arm off Meagan and reached his hand out to Reed.

“Good to see you again,” Reed said, shaking Trevor’s hand.
Eva was watching their little exchange, internally laughing at the memory of the last time the two of

them saw each other. Reed had been fully ready to take a swing at Trevor when he’d last played his
role of Meagan’s big, bad, overprotective friend.

Eva’s gaze shifted to Luke—and he was watching her. Like, intensely watching her. His eyes

flicked over Trevor’s arm that was still wrapped around Eva’s shoulders, pulling her in tightly to his
side, then down to Trevor’s waist where Eva still had her arm wrapped around him.

Then his eyes flitted to Eva’s.
Was he jealous? She and Luke were no longer together—not to mention he broke up with her—and

besides, Trevor was just a friend—he would always be just a friend. Sure, Trevor may try every now
and again to sleaze his way into her pants—but she wouldn’t give him access if her left tit depended
on it. He was Trevor. He had probably slept with more women than Luke and Reed . . . hell, even
Eva, combined. Yes, she had that one experimental moment back in her early twenties—but it wasn’t
her thing . . .

But the look in Luke’s eye was definitely teetering on the border of jealous and hurt—and she

unexpectedly felt guilty for being the reason that small fleck of hurt glimmered in his eye. Damn
conscience. She was suddenly feeling very sympathetic toward poor little Pinocchio. Having a little
conscience singing in your ear’s a bitch.

About that same time that Eva was having her sudden moment of sympathy, Trevor shot out a grin

and lifted his hand to Luke. “Hey, man. I’m Trevor.”

Luke’s eyes went hard. Definitely not a Luke expression. Luke was a cheese ball. He was cocky

and arrogant, yes, but he wasn’t one to hike his leg and mark his territory . . . at least she’d never
thought he was. But at that very moment, she wouldn’t be surprised if he whipped it out and used her
like a fire hydrant.

“Luke,” he sputtered, grasping Trevor’s hand.
“Good to meet ya, Luke.” He grinned. Trevor was one of those men that everyone liked. From what

Meagan told Eva, he’d been the all-American boy in high school—captain of every team, the class
president, homecoming king, the life of the party, and the desire of every female within a thirty mile
radius, heck, even the desire of a few housewives as well.

But he definitely hadn’t won Luke over.
Trevor dropped Luke’s hand and pulled Eva in closer, kissing the top of her head again. “Come on,

Red. Show me which room is ours.”

Eva was stuck with the pleasant opportunity to share her room with Trevor. Insert sarcasm here.

Okay, she supposed she was fine with it. Not the end of the world. Would she rather share her bed
with a man that she would get naked with? Yeah. But since she’d willingly omitted her plus one, and
since the cabin was already a few bodies over capacity, she was sharing a bed with Trevor. It was
either that or she slept on the floor in the living room. Easy choice.

Relieved to get away from the unwanted scrutiny of Luke, Eva allowed Trevor to lead her back

inside the cabin. Once inside, he dropped his arm from her shoulder to pick up his duffel bag, which
was sitting by the sliding glass door.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck that was about?” he nosily questioned as he ascended the stairs

after her.

Keeping her eyes forward, she asked, “What?” Although, going off of the testosterone pissing

match she just witnessed exuding from Luke, she had a pretty good idea what he was referring to.

“You know, every time I visit you ladies I seem to end up getting the death look. So what’s up with

this Luke guy?”

Eva briefly shifted her head over her shoulder to glance at Trevor. He was smirking at her. The

asshole knew exactly what was up with Luke and he was trying to rib her about it. Eva rolled her eyes
and stepped onto the landing that looked down over the main level of the cabin. She led Trevor down
the hallway to her right, all the way to the back bedroom.

Eva plopped down on the king-sized bed as Trevor dropped his duffel by the dresser. His hand

latched on to the ledge of the cherry-colored wood, and he leaned his weight against it. “So?”

“Nosey much? He’s my ex. We haven’t been together for a long time, though.”
Slowly, he nodded his head upward and lifted his lips into a lopsided grin. “And I’m guessing that

he doesn’t want to be your ex.”

Eva sighed and threw herself back onto the mattress. “I’m pretty sure he’s been seeing someone. I

don’t know. It’s been eight months, Trev. We didn’t have the smoothest of breakups, though.”

A deep laugh emitted from Trevor’s chest. He sat down on the bed next to Eva then groaned

contentedly as he lay back, his shoulder brushing Eva’s. “You don’t strike me as a woman a man just
gets over easily,” he said.

Eva rolled her eyes.
“But I take it you’re over him?”
She turned onto her side and propped up on her elbow, resting her head on her hand. “Trev,” she

started, lifting a perplexed brow. “You know me.” If anyone knew and understood Eva’s lack of
intimate emotion—it was Trevor. They were cut from the same cloth that was missing the fall-in-love
thread.

He grinned. “I know.”
“I knew it was going to be awkward and difficult being around him all weekend, but if you didn’t

notice, the man is gorgeous. And those arms”—she sighed—“those are hard to resist. If things
between us hadn’t ended so shittily, he would have made the perfect weekend fling.”

This time Trevor lifted his brows, looking at Eva as if she had dumb written across her forehead.

“I can guarantee he wouldn’t have a problem with that,” he said.

Eva huffed out an exasperated laugh. “No shit, he has a penis. My experience with that organ is that

it rarely, if ever, has a problem with that.”

“So what’s the issue?”
“First of all, he dumped me. I don’t care how sexy his abs are glistening in the pool”—she paused

as a shiver raked through her shoulders—“I wouldn’t give him the benefit of sleeping with me again.”

“Damn, bitter much?”
She sighed, blinking slowly, then continued. “Second of all, even if I was bitter, as you put it, I

don’t want to hurt him. I wouldn’t want him mistaking me sleeping with him as emotion. It’d be kind
of a dick move for me to hook up with him just for my own selfish need for pleasure.”

He belted out a laugh. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with my friend?”
She slapped him on the chest. “I know, right?” She smiled but it quickly faltered. “This is Meg’s

big weekend. We’re supposed to have fun, I’m not supposed to be whining about my ex issues.” She
nudged him with her shoulder. “And you, you’re supposed to be the cure-all. Isn’t that your role in our
threesome? To balance the clusterfuck of crazy that Meg and I bring to the table?”

A mischievous gleam took over Trevor’s eyes and Eva got the feeling that something equally

mischievous was spinning around in that head of his. “What?” she questioned cautiously. That look
could never mean anything good . . .

“I just might have the perfect solution to your problem.” The slick innuendo of his words didn’t

necessarily give her the warm fuzzies. He was up to something. Plotting was usually Eva’s gig. That’s
what she was good at. Scheming and plotting. Being on the receiving end of someone else’s scheme,
on the other hand, wasn’t as fun.

“And what might that be?” she asked, knowing that any plan Trevor Owens came up with probably

wasn’t one she would want to go along with.

He smiled slowly, confidently, like what he was about to say was the best fucking idea he’d ever

had. “Be my girl for the weekend.”

And she was right. Definitely not a plan she wanted to go along with.
“And how the hell would that make things between me and Luke less awkward?” She turned her

head away from him and looked up at the ceiling. “Seriously, sometimes men are idiots,” she
mumbled.

“Hey, woman, I resent that. And all I was saying is that if you pretend you’re mine, it would keep

Luke’s eyes from fucking you. Make it a little easier on ya.”

Eva shot him a glare behind slit eyes.
“I’m tellin’ ya, Eva. The dude still wants you, and I’d bet money he still cares about you.”
Eva sat up on the bed and crossed her legs. “I can’t believe I need to even say this to you, but, hell

no.”

“Why not?”
“Do you want me to start at the top of the list? We do have a wedding to attend tomorrow, you

know.”

He sat up and shook his head. “Don’t act like being with me isn’t something you’ve fantasized

about.”

She didn’t respond. There was no point. She’d never fantasized about Trevor that way . . . he was

Trevor. But trying to convince the man who thought he was God’s gift to women any different was a
lost cause. Instead, she pondered this little suggestion for a moment. It would work. And plus, Luke
probably already assumed as much by the way Trevor was holding on to her downstairs—even
though that was just Trevor being Trevor. But pretending to be with Trevor. The man already had a
big enough ego, she didn’t see the need to stroke it by playing his little acting game. And what all
would this little scheme include? Physical affection. Hell no.

She reached over and patted him on the shoulder a few times. “Thanks, but no thanks.” She stood

up and Trevor followed.

“All right, just thought I would throw it out there, Red.”
“Noted. Now, let’s go. I need another drink.”

Chapter Two

Trevor rolled over as the alarm on the nightstand on the other side of the bed starting going off.
“Eva, turn that off,” he mumbled sleepily.
She didn’t even flinch.
“Red. Wake up,” he said a bit louder, flopping back onto his stomach and burying his face in his

pillow. After another few seconds of continuous shrieking from the alarm, he rolled back over,
reached across Eva, and slapped the top of the clock.

Now awake, he took a moment to look down at her sleeping beneath him. He laughed. She had

always been an ugly sleeper. Her unruly red curls clung to her neck, her lips were parted wide open,
a trickle of drool flowing from the corner of her mouth, and a sweet, soft snore rattled from her nose.
She may be an ugly sleeper, but it was fucking adorable.

“Wake up,” he said as he yawned and rolled off her. She stretched and groaned and flipped onto

her stomach, flailing her legs out wide at a diagonal and over top Trevor’s. “Come on, sleepyhead.
Don’t you have maid-of-honor duties to do or something?”

Sitting straight up in bed, she rubbed her eyes. “Shit.” Dropping her legs to the side of the bed, she

stood up. “You’re helping the guys set up the tent for the reception, right?” She yawned.

“Yep.” He stretched his arms above his head and took his time looking at the round, ivory flesh of

Eva’s delectable ass, which was barely covered by a pair of black panties. Sure, they were friends.
But Trevor was a man, and any man who slept next to that little fireball and saw her in panties and a
tank top would be cursing himself for not trying to get that black scrap of fabric around her ankles,
and flipping her beneath him.

Again, they were friends. But fuck, he wanted her. She was feisty as shit, and he had a pretty strong

idea that she would be just as feisty in bed.

“Good.”
Picking up clean clothes from her suitcase, which was sitting on the chair next to the picture

window, she stumbled into the bathroom. Within a few minutes he could hear the patter of water
hitting the shower floor. Lazily stretching his legs, he stood up and headed to the bathroom.

Trevor opened the door and walked in.
“Trev?”
“Just taking a piss.”
“Okay, but don’t flush.”
Trevor grinned and shook his head. Eva was a rare one. As with Meagan, he could be himself

around her—to include pissing in the toilet while she’s standing naked in the shower—except with
Eva, he felt the need to pull the shower curtain aside so he could watch her lather her sweet body . . .

He put the toilet seat down then leaned in front of the sink. Turning the faucet on, he quickly

washed his hands—then an idea struck, making him grin like an idiot.

Grabbing the cup next to the toothbrush holder, he turned off the hot water, letting the stream from

the faucet turn cold—waiting for it to run icy cold—then he filled it up.

“Hey, Red?”

“What?”
He smiled again, proud of his little prank he was about to pull, knowing good and well that if he

did this, Eva would get him back. But, hell, it was a risk he was willing to take.

All at once, he pulled the shower curtain back a bit, and without looking in—yes, he wanted to see

that naked body of hers, but he wasn’t a complete prick—threw the contents of the cup at Eva.

She shrieked, and he laughed.
“Trevor fucking Owens! I swear to God, you will pay for that!”
“Yeah, I figured,” he said, continuing to laugh. “But it was worth it.”
She joined in his laughter. “You’d better hope so, buddy.”
He took a step toward the doorway. “Yeah, yeah.”

***

The girls were inside doing Lord knows what. Hair, makeup, and whatever else chicks deemed

necessary to get ready for a wedding. Trevor had spent the afternoon helping Meagan’s parents set up
the reception, and now he was sitting on the back deck by the pool, drinking a beer. It was going to be
a small wedding. Just immediate family and close friends—not a lot of people—so it didn’t take all
that long to set everything up.

“You need another one?”
Trevor looked over as Luke took the seat next to him. “Naw, man. I’m good, thanks.”
Popping the top on his beer, Luke leaned back and took a long drink. The silence was awkward.

Trevor knew the game. Luke was sizing him up. Checking out the competition, more than likely
attempting an intimidation tactic. Luke didn’t know that Trevor wasn’t even in the game, but being a
man who loved a challenge, regardless of what it was, Trevor wasn’t going to let him in on that little
fact.

“So, where you from?” Luke asked.
“I’m stationed at Fort Drum in New York right now.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s how you know Meagan, huh?”
Trevor smiled inside, wanting desperately to let that smile loose. Luke had it fucking bad. He was

inching his way around the question Trevor knew he was dying to ask. “No, Meagan and I go way
back. We both grew up in the army. I met Meg when we were freshman in high school at Fort Bragg.
Fuck, seventeen years ago. She just happened to be at Fort Drum when I relocated there a few years
ago.”

“Oh, shit. I didn’t know you two have been friends that long.”
“Yep.”
“How long have you known Eva?”
And there it was. The conversation had drifted right on over to the fiery redheaded soldier they

both knew and loved. Trevor smiled, thinking back to when he first saw Eva.

He’d just moved to Fort Drum, arriving earlier that day. The cold weather sucked ass, especially

since he’d just moved from Fort Shafter in Honolulu. He hadn’t seen Meg in probably three years, and
he was happy she was living at Fort Drum. It made it a hell of a lot easier than driving to wherever
she was to visit her. After she went off to college and he joined the army, the most time they had spent
together was when they would meet up for a week here and there. With him moving from one army

post to another with a handful of deployments in between, it was the first time they’d be living in the
same town since high school. And he missed that woman—she was like his little sister.

He walked into the restaurant where they were meeting for dinner and a few drinks and was

surprised to see that Meagan hadn’t come alone. She’d brought along her friend Eva.

She was sitting at the table in a tight long-sleeve shirt that cut low on her chest, showing off a nice

amount of subtle cleavage. She stood up and walked to the bar before he reached the table and he
couldn’t help enjoying the nice view of her ass in the painted-on pair of jeans she wore tucked into
her high-heeled boots.

When she got back she smiled at him and offered him a hello, but it wasn’t in the way women

typically regarded him. She wasn’t nervous or flirty. She didn’t blush or fidget. She was just Eva.
Confident, snarky, sexy as hell, and a pain in his ass.

“I’ve known Eva for about four years now,” he replied.
“And you two are?”
Now they’d get down to it. Sitting up straight in his chair, Trevor leaned his elbows on his thighs

and tilted his head to the side to look at Luke. “Look, man, I know you and Eva have a past. I also can
tell that whatever was in that past is still in the present—for you. I’ve known Eva a long time and I
care about that woman a lot. We’re—”

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” Eva interrupted as she stepped out onto the deck. He could tell

she had caught the tail end of their conversation by the way her nostrils flared and her lids lowered,
giving him just the right amount of warning. But she didn’t need to worry about what he was going to
say—the sight of her had rendered him speechless anyway.

Her normally wild curls were smoothed and straightened, her copper locks tumbling down over

her shoulders. As he lowered his gaze, his eyes fell upon the open neckline of her dress. Two delicate
straps held up a soft, flowy fabric that caressed her slight curves and looked as if it was chosen to
match the midnight specks of blue that splayed in her eyes. The dress covered little of her thighs, and
Trevor was a leg man. He loved a smooth, delicate thigh—and he loved the way Eva’s fit little body
played with the lean, defined muscles of her legs. She was short, and small, not much in the tit
department, but she had one sexy-ass pair of legs.

“Damn, Red. You look good . . . Fuck.”
Raising her eyebrows, she smiled. “I will take that ‘fuck’ as a compliment. So, thank you. Now get

your ass inside, Meagan needs you. She’s having a Meagan moment.”

He stood up from his chair and stepped next to Eva. “Lead the way,” he said, flattening his palm

out on the small of her back.

Chapter Three

Holding up the bride’s wedding dress while she peed went to new extremes when the bride was

six months pregnant. Eva had just come down from the cabin for probably the third time in the last
hour, trailing behind Meagan as she carefully descended the steep stone steps back down to the
reception.

Meagan’s parents were letting loose out on the dance floor, showing the “young’uns” how it was

done, as her dad had pointed out earlier. A few of Reed’s friends were spinning their dates around
and Reed had his niece in his arms, bouncing her along with the music.

“He’s gonna be a good daddy, isn’t he?” Meagan asked rhetorically as an elated smile fanned

across her flushed face. The sun was lowering, but it was still hot as hell outside.

Eva laced her arm through Meagan’s as she stepped off the bottom step and pulled her toward the

tent and to the bar to force a bottle of water down her throat—and refill her own champagne glass.
“Yes, babe. He’s going to be an amazing daddy to that little princess you’ve got growing in there,”
she said as she rubbed Meagan’s stomach with her other hand.

Bumping Eva with her hip, Meagan looked over at her and winked. “Thanks. And I was going to

wait to tell you this . . .” She trailed off, shifting her gaze back to Reed, who was still dancing with
his niece.

Meagan didn’t keep secrets from Eva, so the idea that she had information she’d been keeping from

her and was still contemplating telling her had Eva’s mind instantly whirling.

Dropping her arm from Meagan’s, she stepped in front of her as they reached the bar. “Spill it,

babe.”

“All right, but I haven’t told Reed yet. I want to surprise him,” Meagan said in a stage whisper.
“Okay, okay. Lips are sealed.” Eva swept her hands out in front of her, gesturing for her to

continue.

Meagan smiled. “I want to name the baby Maclynn Eva Porter.”
Eva’s hands fluttered to her collarbone as a wave of joy engulfed her. A sheen of moisture

accumulated across her eyes and Meagan’s grinning face became a blurred distortion as the tears kept
coming. “It’s beautiful,” she choked, suppressing a full-on happy cry.

“You like it?” Meagan asked. “I haven’t even met her yet and I already love her more than I could

even begin to explain. I want to name her after the two most important people to me and Reed.”

“Dammit, Meggy,” Eva cried, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you.”
Pulling away, Meagan brushed a finger underneath her eye and cleared her throat. “All right,” she

said, quickly changing the subject. She picked up the water bottle the bartender handed her and took a
few long pulls. “So, I know your selection is limited”—she turned and scanned the tent and the dance
floor—“but have you found anyone worth switching beds for?”

Meagan was right, her selection was limited. But wasn’t it protocol that if you didn’t bring a date

to a wedding, you got to have hot, steamy wedding sex with a stranger?

Eva turned around from the bar and laughed. Most of the men who came brought dates, and Eva

knew all of them anyway—they were all Reed and Luke’s friends—they definitely didn’t classify as

strangers. Then there was Reed’s brother-in-law, who was off-limits for obvious reasons, and Reed’s
dad—who definitely had that sexy-George-Clooney-older-man thing going on. But again, married . . .

That pretty much left Luke and Trevor as the only eligible bachelors of the bunch, along with a few

other men whom Eva wasn’t interested in.

Meagan’s eyes circumnavigated the reception again then looked back at Eva. Eva arched her brows

and Meagan clenched her teeth together and sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, your selection went
from limited to nonexistent. Sorry, babe.” She laughed. “Like I said, you should’ve taken advantage of
your plus one.”

Shrugging, Eva sighed. “I will happily spend my evening next to this handsome man,” she affirmed,

smiling at the overweight, balding, middle-aged man behind the bar. He smiled and his cheeks
flushed.

Meagan grinned, rolling her eyes, but it turned into an all-out smile as Reed made his way to her.
Kicking off her wedges, Eva sat down at the table next to the bar. It was really satisfying seeing

Meagan this happy. Eva had witnessed Meagan’s fair share of asshole boyfriends through the years,
and watching the way Reed looked at her—like she was the very reason for his own existence—sent
the warning sign of more tears stinging in her eyes.

Meagan crashed into Reed’s waiting arms and his lips connected with hers lovingly, gently, as if he

couldn’t get enough. He walked backward with her still in his arms, their mouths still kissing, until
they reached the small section of grass that acted as their dance floor. And even then, he didn’t stop
moving, he just changed his destination to nowhere—content with holding Meagan and moving with
her in a circle to the slow tempo of music.

That love was rare. It was special. It was the kind you grabbed on to and didn’t let go. She’d seen

that kind of love a handful of times. With Meagan and Reed, with Meagan’s parents, with her sister
and her husband. She envied that love. That soul-consuming, weak at the knees, your world in their
hands kind of love. That was the kind a woman held out for. That little tightening in your chest caused
by the space that was now inhabited in your heart by someone else.

She’d never felt that . . .
“Dance with me?” a deep voice said, slipping through her mind.
Turning her head over her shoulder, she smiled and stood from her chair. “Sure.”
Eva took Trevor’s hand and he led her to the makeshift dance floor right outside the tent. The sun

was still shining, although the early-evening cast had dimmed the rays and softened the sky. The
yellow hues bounced and danced with the ripples of the water, radiating the lake with a mid-
summer’s glow.

When they stepped onto the lush section of grass that was squared off by large hurricane vases

lining the perimeter with tall gold candles, Trevor pulled on her hand, tugging her into his arms. The
thick grass felt soothing underneath her bare feet as her toes curled around the smooth blades, closing
the distance between herself and Trevor.

His large palms flattened on the small of her back and he slowly pressed against her, forcing her

body to run flush against his. His head lowered, his lips turning up slightly on the side, giving off the
cocky air that expelled from him on a normal basis.

Lifting her hands, Eva glided her fingers over his arms, coasting across the tendons and muscles

that pulled under his skin. She’d always appreciated Trevor’s beautiful physique and had never been
one to shy away from the feel of a powerful pair of arms. But she caught herself pressing the pads of

her fingers hard against the sleeves of his shirt as if her body were willing her to feel more of him.

Was it the cool air that had her acting out of sorts? The wedding? Or maybe her recent mental

contemplation of what it would feel like to feel . . .

Her hands reached his shoulders and she slipped up onto her toes in order to wind her hands

around his neck.

Or maybe it was the champagne. Yes, it was definitely the champagne . . .
A soft, airy laugh left his lips in a quick breath and he pressed his hands harder along the dip in her

spine—holding her weight against his body with only the palms of his hands. She felt like she was
floating, gliding against Trevor to the sound of a slow melody that was vibrating in waves of air
around them, weightless on her toes as he held her close.

“Now,” he said, leaning his head down closer to Eva’s, “you’re not nearly as drunk as you should

be given your maid-of-honor status.”

Oh, Eva had had her fair share of champagne, so there was no denying the little buzz she had

flowing through her veins, but given the weekend events and the company in the form of her ex—she
needed something a little harder than champagne. Lifting her head, she cocked a perfectly sculpted
brow at him. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

His head dipped down lower, and Eva stilled her body as his mouth came so close to the skin

below her ear that she could feel the warm condensation left on her neck from his breath. Like breath
on a cold window. “Do you know that you smell amazing? Like summer sweat and strawberries,” he
whispered, his bottom lip grazing across her skin as his lips moved to form the words—words he
said with sensual excess.

Still frozen, she tried to first figure out why in the hell her flesh erupted in goose bumps, and then

pondered why in the hell she could feel Trevor’s hand snaking down lower on her back.

Without pulling away, and without raising her voice higher than a whisper, she bit her teeth

together. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Another low chuckle unfurled over his lips, bouncing across Eva’s neck. He either didn’t pick up

her subliminal threat or he didn’t give a shit, because his hands continued their descent toward her
ass.

His eyes flitted over her lips, making her uncomfortable. “You’re being watched.”
Confused, she looked to her left, then her right. “What?”
Trevor shifted their bodies, casually moving a quarter turn, so the “watcher” was now in Eva’s

view. Trevor cocked his head to the side, leaning his lips over her ear. From any other angle, it
probably appeared as though he was dotting kisses along her neck, hell, he easily could be . . . but he
whispered into her ear instead. “Move your eyes to your left, Red. Luke hasn’t taken his eyes off
you.”

Careful to only glance quickly, her eyes fell on Luke who was sitting at one of the tables under the

tent. His ankle was crossed over his knee, and he was leaning back, his arm draped on the table
behind him. He was looking directly at her, not even attempting to be subtle. His jaw was set tight,
but other than that he was stolid. He didn’t look jealous, or hurt, or pissed. He just watched—
unashamed, like he wanted her to notice. And what was his motive? Why the hell was he sitting there
acting all cool and mysterious? His behavior was starting to confuse her. First he was flirting, acting
like a shit storm hadn’t poured on them the last time they talked, then he acted jealous and now he’s
passively watching her?

She tried to ignore the feel of Luke’s eyes on her. “So Luke watching me is justification for you to

grab my ass?” she sneered, needing to shift her mind away from the perplexing look in Luke’s eyes.

“I haven’t touched your ass once.”
Raising her chin, she cynically lifted her eyebrows. “I can feel your fingers dangerously close,” she

accused.

His hand slid up a few inches and he straightened his body. “All right, all right,” he teased, and the

light tone to his voice penetrated the stiff mood that had suddenly encased her. But Trevor was
always good at that. He always seemed to know when to step in and play the hero—no matter what
the situation. Even if she didn’t need to be rescued.

Eva dropped her hands from Trevor’s neck, letting them fall to her sides as she rolled her eyes at

him. “I’ve gotta go pee. Grab me a drink?”

“What do you want?”
“Something strong.” She needed to get a little more tipsy—okay a lot more tipsy. She had looked

forward to this wedding weekend for a long time and she’d secretly hoped, okay, maybe not so
secretly hoped, to have a man in her bed after a drunken evening of dancing and celebrating. She just
didn’t think that the man who would be spending the night in her bed would be Trevor, or that the man
who dumped her would be looking at her like he wanted to sleep in her bed. Dammit, that was a
cluster-fuck of confusing. At this point, maybe a lot tipsy needed to transform into downright trashed.

Turning, she headed toward the stone steps that led back up to the cabin. They were steep and

narrow, built into the ground. The rock was uneven, with dips and bumps, but the surface felt smooth
beneath her feet.

Holding onto the cedar log railing, she ran her hands along the aging wood as she made her way up

to the back deck of the cabin. The summer Georgia heat was nice and thick, and that combined with
the small hint of alcohol that was mixing with her blood, heating her body, made the clear pool look
extremely tempting. Bending her knee, she skimmed the toes of her left foot across the water before
continuing toward the cabin.

“How’s it feel?”
She knew that voice. That deep, smooth voice. Turning her head over her shoulder, she feigned a

smile. Why in the hell had he followed her up here?

“Good,” she replied flatly.
He took slow, deliberate steps toward her. He looked almost unsure, or nervous, and she could see

the edge of a storm brewing. Like heat lightning on the horizon. No powerful rain, no sounds of
thunder. But you could see it . . .

She made sure to keep her eyes on his, not wanting to look away, not wanting to give that little

subtle waver. She could handle this. A confrontation was knocking down her door and she would
handle it like she did everything else. Like she didn’t give a shit.

“What do you want, Luke?” she demanded, hoping her words would form a barrier between their

bodies, but he kept advancing toward her.

Stopping a few strides short from her, he shoved his hands back into his pockets. “That’s a pretty

loaded question, don’t you think?”

“It shouldn’t be.”
He took another step. “I miss you,” he divulged, his voice almost a whisper. His head dropped

between his shoulders as if he was ashamed of his admission. And as much as she gathered the little

inclination that he harbored some sort of emotion toward her, she was still surprised by his words.

He missed her?
She sighed. She didn’t want to go there . . .
“You’re the one who ended things, Luke. Not me.” He may have said the words first, but she knew

it was only a matter of time until she would’ve ended the relationship herself. She couldn’t tell him
that though. The way he’d done it—the way he’d picked a fight and made her out to be the bad guy—
that was just wrong. Trevor was right, she was bitter.

Looking back up at her, he scrubbed his hands over his face a few times. When he pulled his hands

away, his mouth was pulled down and his eyebrows were gathered in—a flash of regret flickering in
the specks of his eyes. “I know, and I made a mistake.”

For some reason his words ignited a spark in her chest, like a lighter running out of fluid—

flickering—just begging to flame.

Her hands found their way to her hips and the thin fabric of her dress pressed even closer to her

skin. “You were an asshole.” Which was an understatement. When he told her he thought he was
falling in love with her, it was sweet—scary as hell—but sweet. She was flattered. No man she’d
dated had ever told her that before. But she couldn’t say it back. She wasn’t going to lie . . .

Luke had been crushed, but understanding. He’d told her to take her time. But that was the thing, she

didn’t think time would change anything.

He wasn’t too happy about that answer.
It was strange for a man to play the wounded-heart role. And what was even stranger was when

Luke flipped his switch. She believed his exact words as he stood up and walked out of her apartment
were, “I’m fucking done with this. I’m done with you.”

Really? Luke got his balls twisted because a woman didn’t drop to her knees and profess her

undying love for him?

That little spark had caught a flame . . .
If she took herself out of the situation and looked from the outside in, sure, she got it. She could tell

that his ego was shattered and he felt humiliated and hurt. She hated that she hurt him.

But he’d acted like a prick. And he had made sure to steer clear of her ever since that night. Sure,

they would run into each other occasionally if they were with Meagan and Reed, but that was as far as
their communication went. Now, here they were eight months later and he wanted to tell her he
missed her?

“Eva—”
“Luke, don’t,” she pleaded. She’d had this conversation with him when they split up. He was in,

and she wasn’t. It wasn’t a road they needed to travel down again.

He took another step. “Can we talk?” he lilted, the hopeful lift in his voice almost infuriating her.
“I don’t think there’s anything that needs to be said.”
“I fucked up. I know that. I should have just given you time, given you time to fall for me. Please,

talk to me. I still care about you. I never stopped,” he said as he took another step. His head was
angled toward the ground but his eyes honed in on hers, hard, piercing eyes, ringed with . . . what?
Sadness? Seeing the depth of want—longing—in his eyes, sent every bit of venom she was forming in
her mouth back down her throat to the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t tell him to fuck off. She
couldn’t tell him that she didn’t care about him in that way—that she never would. She couldn’t
pretend that she didn’t give a shit—because underneath all the bitterness, she did. Luke was a good

guy. Just not the guy for her.

She tried to form words. She tried to summon up the nerve, the balls, to tell the man in front of her

who was all but wearing his heart on his sleeve that she didn’t care about him. That whatever feelings
he had for her, she couldn’t reciprocate.

But no words seemed to come. She wasn’t a break-it-to-’em-easy kind of girl. She was wading

through new emotional territory.

“Give me another chance, give us another chance,” he pleaded.
“Luke, I’m with Trevor,” she blurted out before she had a chance to really weigh the repercussions

of her words. It just seemed easier at the moment. She’d told him the truth the last time this
conversation was unfolding. And that didn’t turn out too well.

His eyes fell from the penetrating hold he had on her and his head lowered between his shoulders

—but only for a moment. When he looked back at her he lifted his lips into a smile. It wasn’t the type
of smile that she was used to seeing pulled on his face. But before she could wade through the
possibilities of the unfamiliar tilt of his lips, his smile faded.

“I’m happy for you.” There was a rough crack to his voice.
“Luke—” she started, almost ready to take it back and tell him the truth. She didn’t know what the

hell she was doing at this point. Lying to make it easier on him or easier on her? Son-of-a-bitch.

“I really am happy for you, baby.” The endearment sent a blade through her stomach making the

guilt of her lie sting and burn. “I mean, it fucking sucks ass for me because I care about you, a lot, and
I would love nothing more than for you to give me another chance. But more than that, I want you to be
happy.” He smiled that smile again, the one she couldn’t decipher.

Everything he was saying was making her feel more and more like complete shit. Not only was she

lying, but now he was happy for her? Fuck, she felt like she was crawling down a rabbit hole, and
there was no possible way she was going to be able to crawl out.

“I see the way he looks at you.”
The way Trevor looked at her? Everything he was seeing was just the way it was between her and

Trevor. It was the same exact way he was with Meagan too. He was flirty and touchy and
unfortunately adorable, but he was harmless. He didn’t mean anything by it when he would wrap his
arms around her and hug her or kiss her forehead. That was just Trevor being Trevor. If he wanted
her that way, he wouldn’t just be hugging and kissing foreheads. He would be laying on his Trevor
charm, throwing out the one-liners and giving off his signature wink that seemed to have a panty-
dropping quality that worked on almost every single woman he laid it on.

His eyes softened around the edges and he smiled that damn smile again and once more her words

were lodged in her throat. She didn’t know what the fuck to say or how to say it. Her tongue had
forgotten how to roll and move to form words. She was mute, looking at Luke like an idiot.

Fuck. What in the hell had she gotten herself into?

Chapter Four

A hand clamped down on Trevor’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So, how’s your dad? I

haven’t talked to him in a long time.” Mr. Mitchell, Meagan’s dad, asked as he stepped up to the drink
table that acted as the bar.

Turning his head to look at him, Trevor smiled. “He’s doing better, thank you for asking, sir.”
“Ah, none of that ‘sir’ shit here, son. Do you see stars on my collar? You call me Don.” He gave

Trevor another squeeze on the shoulder then reached down for the bottle of Jack and poured some in
his glass.

Trevor nodded and smiled his acknowledgment. Don and Trevor’s dad went as far back as he and

Meagan did. His dad was post commander at Fort Bragg when Meagan’s dad was stationed there.
They were good friends.

“They’re living in Memphis, right?”
“Yes, sirrrr . . . Don. My mom grew up there.”
“How is your mother? She holding up?” he asked. His face had gone solemn, his own grief mixed

in with the sorrow and sympathy he felt for Trevor’s family.

“She’s a strong woman—”
“Yeah, she’d have to be to be with your dad.” He laughed as though a memory was passing through

his mind at that very moment, and knowing Trevor’s dad—it probably was a good one.

Trevor’s smiled extended a little more than it usually did when he thought about his parents, and he

was grateful to Don for connecting that happy image in his mind. “She tells me she is doing great, that
dad isn’t giving her any more trouble than he did when they first got married—but I know she’s
exhausted. He’s in pain most days. Nights are the worst. And that’s what wears my mom down the
most. Seeing him suffer night after night and not being able to do a goddamned thing—” He stopped,
his words lodged in his chest as the shit he tried to keep buried in the back of his mind started rearing
his ugly head.

His dad was dying. He had terminal cancer; an inoperable tumor in his brain. Some days he wasn’t

even his dad. He was just gone, like he’d slipped into another world, another realm of thought that he
and his mother couldn’t reach. To watch the man who raised him, the man who taught him how to
throw a football, shoot a rifle, and drink a beer; to watch him wither into a man he barely recognized
was shredding a piece of him every day.

Trevor was the exact replica of his father. They had the same square shoulders, the same ashy

brown hair; the same steel gray eyes. But his father was so fucking calm. Nothing had ever seemed to
stir him or piss him off. He’d let things roll off his shoulders and kept a smile on his face doing it. He
wasn’t what you would picture a one-star general to be. He wasn’t this rigid, uptight, by-the-book
leader. He was approachable, relatable, and understanding.

His dad always had a way with the women too, and they’d flocked to him, wherever they were. But

his dad only had eyes for his mom. She was his everything.

How was he supposed to live up to the man his father was? He wasn’t even in the same fucking

category. And there wasn’t a whole lot of time to figure it out.

Trevor cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said, needing to get away from that conversation. He

turned, but Don called out his name, stopping him. He spun back around, fighting the burn that was
pricking in his eyes.

“Your dad’s a great man. He was an outstanding commander, but he’s an even better father—and

husband. I’m so sorry for you and your family.”

Nodding, he tightly pressed his lips together until he could feel the pain from his teeth biting into

his lips.

An arm slipped through his and a small hand gave him a gentle squeeze. Meagan. He didn’t know

how that woman seemed to know exactly when he needed her—but she did, even if she didn’t realize
it.

He smiled at her, then nodded at Reed and Luke who were behind her. “What you boys talking

about?” she asked. There was such joy in her voice, such ease. He not only wanted to protect her
from the hurt he knew she would feel bringing up his dad, but he also didn’t want to ruin that sweet
sound. That perfect paradise her mind was relaxing on. He couldn’t take that away from her.

“Just how I would give your dad the first swing, but I would get to finish Reed off if he ever even

thought about hurting you,” he teased, making sure to send Reed a look that very well told him that he
may be teasing Meagan, but he was serious as shit. Reed nodded, a faint smile tugging up—almost a
challenge. And Trevor could appreciate it. The only man who would ever be worthy of Meagan was
a man willing to fight him for her. Reed had already proved that he was willing and ready.

Her blue eyes rolled toward the back of her head. “Seriously? I thought we covered this already.”
Pressing his palm to the back of her head, he gently pushed until the top of her head connected with

his lips. “Covered,” he reassured her. He’d taken it upon himself to have that conversation with Reed
the second he found out Meagan was marrying him. He’d needed to make sure she wouldn’t get hurt.
But he wasn’t worried about that anymore. Reed was a good guy, and he loved Meagan. No doubt
about it.

“Hey, baby, can I talk to you for a quick second?” Eva said from behind. He recognized her voice,

but it lacked that confidence it usually carried. She sounded nervous. Her words didn’t register—he
didn’t realize she was speaking to him until he felt her hand on his biceps. He turned around to face
her and Meagan did the same.

Meagan’s eyes widened as she looked from him to Eva, the same confusion he was feeling was

inscribed on Meagan’s expression, but the look in Eva’s eyes warned him from asking what the hell
was going on.

“Sure,” he said cautiously. Dropping his arm from Meagan, he followed Eva.
He was enjoying the view from behind as she quickly made her way down the slight decline

toward the dock. The now-setting sun saturated her body, her hair soaking up the golden rays as the
light reflected in the fiery strands that were blowing in the faint breeze.

She hopped up onto the large dock, the boards creaking under their feet as he followed her to the

edge.

“Dammit,” she basically shouted, like she was cursing the water in front of her for flowing. Trevor

wanted to reach out and touch her, but the way she wrapped her arms around her stomach as she sat
down, dangling her feet into the cool water, made him resist. He just stood behind her, letting her
work through whatever had her riled. When she was ready, she would tell him, and he would help her
figure out whatever it was. He had this woman shit figured out solid. At least he thought he did, but

the next words out of Eva’s mouth shocked the hell out of him.

“I fucked up Trev. Real bad.”
Eva admitting that she did something wrong sent the first wave of confusion his way. This woman

wouldn’t admit her shit stank. “Can you give me a little bit more insight than that?”

She rolled her head back, closing her eyes as her face lifted toward the sky. An audible sigh laced

with a frustrated growl hummed from her lips. He took that as his cue to sit. He slipped off his shoes
and socks and lowered himself next to her, dunking his feet into the lake.

Dropping her head, she turned to face him. She was embarrassed. He didn’t see this emotion cross

over her face often, but he fucking loved it when he did. Her smooth, porcelain skin that had only a
hint of a sun-kissed glow had a transparent flush—a rosy tint that clashed with her golden-red hair—
and it was sexy. “I told Luke we were together,” she muttered almost shyly, which was another
emotion that wasn’t one she typically harbored.

And he laughed. He laughed deep in his chest until his back was damn near forced down against the

dock. He laughed hard enough to the point where no sound was hitting his ears—silent laughter.

“It’s not fucking funny,” she whined, slapping his chest hard.
“Oh, it’s funny,” he said attempting to catch his breath.
She grimaced and shook her head. “Well, what am I supposed to do now?”
Winking, he laid on his thickest grin—one that would hopefully make her laugh, or make her call

him some foul name—anything to remove the oh-shit look from her face. “We act like we are
together.”

Her face contorted, her brows angling toward her nose, her lips tightening into a firm line.
“Oh, come on”—his hand gently slapped her knee and he grasped it, giving it a squeeze—“it won’t

be that bad.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re a walking erection.”
So she thought he was a joke, not a complete surprise, but it didn’t sit well with him. “Look, you

want to tell Luke the truth, I’ll back you up. You want to continue with this little lie, I’ll back you up.
The ball’s in your court, Red.”

Her eyes shifted to him, and he saw a vulnerable side that was unlike anything he had ever seen in

her before. She was always so sure of herself, so confident, and strong. Seeing her feel almost
helpless tugged at him.

She collected a puff of air in her cheeks, held it in, then blew it out in an aggravated sigh. “Fuuck,”

she said, dragging the word out in a long deflated breath. “You sure you are up for this?” She angled
her body toward him, pulling her foot out of the water and sliding her ankle under her thigh.

Trevor laughed once. She had no idea what she was asking. Was he okay pretending that this little

spitfire was his? Was he okay getting the opportunity to touch her in ways he had been itching to touch
her since she first told him to fuck off? Hell yes he was up for this. He was always up for a good
challenge—and she’d just thrown out the mother lode.

“I’m happy to help,” he said, bushing it off like it was no big deal.
“Okay, we need some ground rules.”
“All right,” he replied, amused.
“Keep the physical affection PG. No ass groping or wandering hands. Hand holding, hugging and

other small embraces are okay. Kisses are okay, just no tongue.”

Trevor arched his brows at her. How did she expect him to kiss that mouth of hers without slipping

in for a taste? This might be fucking harder than he thought.

“I mean it, Trev,” she admonished.
Throwing his hands up in surrender and smiling he said, “Fine, fine. But I hope you know you are

taking all the fun out of this for me.”

She rolled her eyes and he couldn’t help laughing. “Ugh, I can’t believe we are doing this,” she

said.

“Is the idea of being with me really that repulsive?” he asked, although he knew the answer. She

shot him down every chance she could, and was the only woman who had ever done so so adamantly.

“It’s not that you’re repulsive, you’re just Trevor. You’re a slut. You’re cocky and arrogant and

quite possibly the—”

“Sexiest man you’ve ever seen?” he interrupted, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling

her into him. She relaxed against his side and nestled her head on his chest.

“See, I rest my case,” she sighed, defeated.

***

They walked back from the dock hand in hand, which was extremely awkward for Eva but if

they were going to play the part, they might as well start now. She would have to explain everything
to Meagan because there was no way in hell she would ever believe for a second that she and Trevor
were together. Not after four years of tormenting the shit out of him every chance she got about his
playboy ways.

“You know, if we’re going to pull this off, you need to relax a little, Red,” he whispered, leaning in

close to her ear and squeezing her hand.

“Kiss my ass, Trev.”
“Bend over, baby.”
“Oh God, it’s starting already,” she said, withholding the laugh that was forming in her throat. She

would not give Trevor the satisfaction.

As soon as they stepped onto the thick grass and started toward the drink table, Meagan’s big,

round eyes instantly found hers. Eva gave her another don’t-fucking-ask look and Meagan just raised
her brows and shook her head—she’d more than likely deduced her little scheme. Or was it
Trevor’s? Hell, at this point it didn’t matter.

Picking up the chilled chardonnay from the pewter ice bucket, Eva poured herself a glass, filling it

to the brim.

“Easy, woman,” Trevor warned, from beside her. She whipped her head to him and narrowed her

eyes, picked up the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, and headed to one of the tables under
the tent.

It didn’t take Meagan long to find her way to Eva’s table, stopping only briefly to greet someone or

chat quickly with a guest. She sat down in the chair next to Eva and propped her feet up on the empty
chair beside her.

“Spill it, babe.”
“I would rather not,” Eva grumbled. She wasn’t a pouter or a Debbie-downer but this whole Luke

thing knocked her for a loop. Dammit, it would’ve been so much easier if her stupid conscience had
just shut the fuck up and let her send him on his merry little way—hurt feelings and all.

“I’m going to play the it’s-my-wedding-and-I’m-pregnant card. So start talking.”
“You’re such a bitch when you want to be, you know that?” She sighed. “I told Luke I was dating

Trevor.”

Meagan choked on the bite of wedding cake she had just shoveled into her mouth. “Why the hell

would you do that?” she asked incredulously.

“Because Trevor came up with the little idea—”
“Well, no shit he did. Only Trevor would suggest something like that. He’s been looking for an

opportunity to get you in his bed—naked, I might add—for as long as I can remember.”

“It’s not going to change anything. He’s not getting me naked, Meggy. Luke followed me to the

cabin and told me he still cares about me.”

Meagan’s brows lifted. She was as shocked as Eva was, and Meagan adored Luke. He was Reed’s

best friend. Eva would have thought that maybe Meagan knew about Luke’s change of heart, that she’d
have been able to give her a heads-up, but apparently not. “Why this weekend is he all of a sudden
wanting to tell me how he feels?”

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe it’s the whole wedding thing. Maybe he’s truly never gotten over you

and he’s finally got the balls to tell you—hell, I don’t know how his mind works.”

“Well, it worked.”
“It worked?” Meagan asked, confused.
“I wasn’t going to go along with Trevor’s little plan, but I panicked,” she explained, downing the

contents of her wineglass in a few long pulls. “Luke believed it.”

It was the easy way out, it was the cowardly way out. Should she have just told him the truth again

and dealt with it like the strong woman she thought she was? Ab-so-fucking-lutely. But it was too late,
what’s done was done. She couldn’t go back on what she said now: she would look like an even
bigger ass. She’d already dug a hole.

Just then, Trevor made his way into the tent. He was also wearing his dress uniform like the other

men. She was a complete and total sucker for a soldier in his dress uniform with his ribbons, awards,
and medals pinned to his chest. There was just something about a man in uniform—period. A man
who fought for his country, was an M-4 sharpshooter, and wore that beautiful, little metal company
combat pin on his right breast pocket, did it for her. Every. Single. Time. There was nothing, nothing,
sexier than a soldier. Trevor included.

His jacket was off and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. The hem of his shirt

was tucked in nice and tight, showing off his hard physique that gave way to his narrow hips that in
turn led to his thick thighs. Eva noticed Trevor. She had always noticed Trevor. Looking at him was
one of her favorite things about their friendship, especially when he was half naked in a pair of his
tight gray boxer briefs. But the way he looked at her when he entered the tent suddenly made her
nervous. He had a glint in his eye as he smiled at her—like they shared some intimate secret. Okay, so
they did share a secret, but this look was different. It was seductive and intense, and it sent chills
across her heated skin.

He stopped behind her chair. She couldn’t see him but she was strangely completely aware of him.

“Hey, baby, I got you some cake,” he said, a slight slink to his words, a silken purr. Then he set the
small piece of red velvet cake in front of her and leaned down, his head moving close to hers before
he pressed his lips the side of her neck.

It was the first time his lips had moved over her skin like that. It was the first time he pressed his

mouth to her in a way that made her blush. It was a quick kiss, a brief contact—but the strange effect it
had on her lingered long after it was gone.

“Thanks,” she said, her words unsure. He winked and sat down next to her.
Meagan shifted her eyes between them and the scrutiny was torturous. “So you two are really going

through with this, huh?” Meagan questioned.

Trevor’s head tilted back in a dismissive nod and his mouth lifted on the corners. “I don’t know

what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that shit.” Meagan shook her head. “This ought to be interesting,” she speculated.
Eva didn’t say anything; instead, she filled her mouth with the moist deliciousness that was red

velvet wedding cake and poured more wine in her glass.

Reed, Luke, Reed’s sister, Becky, and her husband, Conner, made their way to the table. Nerves

spiked in Eva’s chest at the very real realization that she was pretending she was with Trevor. How
in the hell was she going to pull this off all weekend?

Sitting down in the chair next to Meagan, Reed nodded at Trevor. Sitting down on the other side of

Reed, Conner pulled Becky onto his lap. Luke took the other chair next to Trevor. They all sat there
for a moment, silence filling the space around them with an awkward residue.

“So anyone going to address the elephant in the room?” Becky asked, looking at Meagan,

apparently aware of the awkward tension lingering in the space around the table. Becky had been a
royal bitch when she’d first met Meagan, being overprotective of her brother to a fault. Luckily she
had tamed down some and had learned to retract her claws, which was a pretty good thing
considering Eva had no problem whatsoever letting hers out. For the most part, Eva and Meagan
could tolerate her now. But even then, it pissed Eva off that Becky had to be the one to open her
mouth to start the cumbersome conversation of her lie.

Trevor glanced at Eva and winked. He used his wink on women all the time, but she was about

ready to staple his eyelids open if he kept winking at her. She wasn’t some chick he was going to fuck
when the night was over so there was no need for him to attempt to lay on the charm.

She inhaled a deep breath, trying to soothe the bitch that was begging to come out of her. Becky had

loaded Eva’s weapon and Trevor happened to be in her line of fire. He was doing her a favor. Trevor
was her good friend. A pain in her ass, but a good friend nonetheless. She didn’t need to take her
frustration with the whole damn situation out on him.

“Seriously, what is with all the tension?” Reed asked, looking at his new bride with a worried

frown.

Lifting her hand to the side of his face, Meagan leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Just a chaste

kiss, but it seemed to melt away his unease. “No tension,” she confirmed.

“Okay,” Reed said, unconvinced. “Then what is it?”
Dammit. Meagan wouldn’t call her out. That wasn’t Meggy’s style. She would cover for Eva even

if she was holding a dead body in her arms.

This was Meagan’s day, yet her new husband was now worried and the atmosphere was suddenly

stiff. Eva needed to fix this—and fast. It was her best-friend/maid-of-honor duty not to fuck up this
day for her.

Eva looked to Trevor. She could handle her own shit, but when in doubt, Trevor would come

through—at least she hoped. She’d never had to test out that theory until now.

He smiled, seemingly able to read or mind. “You want to tell everyone, babe?” he asked, reaching

underneath the table and sliding his hand over Eva’s thigh.

She stilled, her body going rigid to the sensual touch of Trevor’s fingers grazing the bare flesh of

her thigh. She wanted to swat his hand away. She wanted to tell him to get his roaming hand on his
side of the table before she dislocated it from his wrist. But she couldn’t. She’d wanted this, after all.
He was playing his part. She feigned a smile, letting her lips curl upward and allowing her teeth to
peek through the thin gap.

Clearing her throat she sneaked a quick glance at Meagan, for a little reassurance, and she was

absolutely no help whatsoever. She looked as if the vein in her forehead was about ready to burst
from the laugh she was apparently suppressing.

“Well, there’s not really much to tell,” she started, shifting her eyes to Trevor, hoping he would

sense her discomfort and come to her rescue again—and he did.

“Eva and I are together,” he announced.
All the eyes, other than Meagan’s, Trevor’s, and Eva’s, darted to Luke. What the hell was that

about? Did everyone know how he felt about her? When Eva finally chanced a glance at him she saw
that he was watching her, that fucking smile from earlier screwed into his cheeks. His eyes flickered
to Trevor who was doing what Trevor did best, standing his ground—emitting his own ounce of
intimidation right back at Luke. When Luke’s eyes found hers again, his smile still firmly in place, he
looked at her as if he didn’t truly believe it. Like he could see right through her little lie.

Was that the reason he was so cool about things up at the pool? Did he think she was bullshitting

him from the start? Fuck. He knew her better than she realized—which pissed her off beyond belief.
Luke was the whole reason she was playing this little game of make-believe to begin with, and if he
didn’t believe it, then what was the fucking point?

Something speared through Eva. Something hot and cold at the same time. It felt a lot like anger, but

it was completely different. She couldn’t find the correct word to convey the sensation she was
experiencing in her veins, her chest, her muscles. She was revved up. Adrenaline coursing through
her like she was about to dive headfirst into the black hole that represented the huge lie she was
suddenly all about seeing through. Luke was challenging her, he was staring at her with a desire in his
eyes as he watched her. She watched them skim over the thin skin at the base of her throat where her
heartbeat was pattering rapidly. Then his eyes traveled to her mouth where her breath had started
coming in quick puffs, and then to her eyes that were locked on his with a ferocity she hadn’t
possessed in a long time.

Yes, Eva was lying like a dog. Yes, Luke was correct in his bold, unannounced assumption that

Trevor was nothing more than a friend. And yes, all of it was coiled into one giant clusterfuck of
emotions that were spiraling around one another. Eva was suddenly pissed. Mostly at herself for
getting into this fucking situation. But now more than ever she wanted to prove her little lie to be true.
It didn’t make sense, and how in the hell did someone prove a lie to be true? That was the same as
proving a lie with a lie. She was going around and around in a circle of lies but she didn’t care, that’s
exactly what she was going to do.

She felt Trevor’s hand slide up her leg and skim over the side of her stomach. The featherlight

touch calmed the ball of heat that had accumulated in her chest, right below her throat, and she felt
slightly more at ease—which was a gift Trevor had always seemed to possess. Eva had watched him
calm Meagan down in all of her panicked Meagan moments with a simple, casual embrace, or with
easy, calming words. But there was a difference in the way his fingertips caressed the chiffon fabric

of her dress, toying with the flowing material as he trailed his fingers up her rib cage. There was a
difference in the way his eyes regarded her—possessed her—as she looked at him. And she realized
—he was pretending.

The confidence she usually wore loud and proud for everyone to see started finding its way back to

the surface. She lowered her hand from the table, and keeping her eyes on Trevor, laced her fingers
through his. He smiled. It was deliberate, and slow, and unfortunately incredibly sexy. She had seen
this smile before, but never directed at her. She now pitied the women he aimed that smile at—it was
dangerous.

Bringing their joined hands to his lips, he kissed each finger that intertwined with his. His lips

hovered over them before he pressed his smooth, wet lips to her knuckles, never once moving his
eyes from hers. She felt a trickle in the pit of her stomach, she felt a slight pull between her legs, and
a faint flutter in her chest—the telltale signs that Eva was getting turned on.

Holy fucking hell. Trevor was turning her on.
For some unknown reason she was paralyzed, subject to his intense gaze. His upper body leaned

in, and she was acutely aware of the subtle sent of cologne mixed in with a small amount of sweat
from the heat lingering on his neck. “Dance with me again?” he asked, but it sounded more like an
order—one she had no intention of disobeying. His voice was deep, low; just barely loud enough for
everyone to hear, but completely loud enough that they wouldn’t miss a single word.

She nodded, and he stood from his chair. She could feel the scrutiny from everyone’s eyes on her

as he helped her from her seat. Meagan stood up as well, pulling Reed up beside her. She was
relieved. Trevor came through, as always, and not just for Eva, but for Meagan as well. They could
put that awkward conversation behind them and get back to the party. And alcohol. Eva definitely
needed more of that.

Trevor’s hands easily found the small of her back and his palm flattened against it. He always led

her into a room. It was a gesture he had done a hundred times over, but this time when she stepped in
front of him, his body closed in against her back and his mouth found its way to her shoulder. He
pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder and she could feel a hint of wet heat from where the tip
of his tongue grazed her skin.

She shivered. Dammit, she shivered.
And he smiled. She could feel the tight pull of his lips as they lingered on her skin. Then he moved

those damn lips of his to the pillowy curve in her shoulder where it met the base of her neck—and he
kissed her again.

She fought back the shudder this time, now that she was prepared for it, but it was still hard to

accomplish. A slow country song was streaming through the speakers, one of Eva’s favorites. The
second they were back on the dance floor, his hands folded over her stomach and he pulled her
against him.

Turning in his arms, she placed her hands on his biceps. “Thank you,” she whispered, her mouth

barely moving.

A lopsided grin tilted his lips. “You’re welcome. I could tell you needed saving.”
“Always so quick to play the hero, aren’t ya?”
“Never had the chance before with you. It’s kind of nice,” he said. Which was true. Eva didn’t

particularly like the whole damsel-in-distress act. She never relied on a man to get her out of a
situation or come to her rescue. She was a soldier, for fuck’s sake. She was pretty damn capable of

handling herself in any situation—except this one. She needed Trevor right now. God, there was no
way she was going to admit it, though.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it, buddy. This is just a one-time thing.”
Trevor laughed, his chest moving rapidly as the lush, thick, sound rumbled through his body. She

was pressed against him—trapped between his rough hands and his hard body, and she absorbed his
laughter. “Would you just relax, Red?” One of his hands left its spot on her lower back and skimmed
over the top of her ass, pushing her in tighter to him—if that was even possible. Then, lifting his hand
from her ass, he trailed it up her bare arm, just lightly touching her skin with the tips of his fingers. It
tickled and she absentmindedly pulled her arm away. “Just relax,” he repeated. “We’re only
pretending.”

His fingers picked back up their slow, torturous path, igniting goose bumps across her flesh, until

he reached her wrist. Lacing his fingers through hers, he brought their joined hands to his lips again,
and slowly kissed each one of her knuckles.

It was such an easy, sweet contact. Nothing intimate. Nothing that would win him an ass-chewing

later. But the touch was sensual in a way that she’d never experienced—with anyone.

As the full cushion of his bottom lip puckered slightly, she could feel the warmth from the inside of

his mouth. Wet, hot, and dare she say it—tempting. His lips carefully and lightly connected around her
skin, brushing a kiss over her finger; and although it was just a quick kiss, he never rushed. He took
his time, paying each knuckle the same amount of attention he did as the previous one.

A foreign thought trickled in the back of her mind, startling the shit of out of her—but she thought it

nonetheless.

If he kissed her fingers like this, what would it be like to feel his lips trace over other parts of

her body?

Hell. No.
This was Trevor. She was not going to entertain thoughts like that, no matter how sexy it was

looking into his subdued gray eyes, the silver-blue flecks softening the steel color a bit as he looked
straight back at hers . . .

Shit.
“See,” he began, lowering her hand from his mouth and resting it on his chest. “Harmless.”
She wasn’t so sure about that at the moment. Not with the way her blood seemed to be flowing—

hot and fast.

“Harmless,” she affirmed, attempting to make the words more true.
His head glanced to the side and a smile that she was unfamiliar with migrated onto his face. Yes,

she constantly gave Trevor an endless amount of shit. Yes, his dick had been inside more women than
she felt comfortable even thinking about, and yes, he would never be the type of man to settle down
with one woman—not that she was the type of girl to settle down with one man. But he was a good
guy. He was a genuine guy. If he ever changed course and decided to settle down with one woman,
he’d be the perfect guy you’d want take home to your parents. A guy that would shake hands and drink
a beer with your dad, then do dishes with your mom. Probably play catch with your brother and earn a
little crush from your sister. He was also the guy that would sneak you off into the bathroom while
your family was preoccupied and fuck you on the sink . . .

She shivered.
Turning his head back toward her, he pulled his lips up in a knowing grin that had her wanting to

wipe that grin off his face with the palm of her hand. “You’re not cold, are you?” he asked. The
fucker knew she wasn’t cold.

“Kiss my ass, Trevor,” she sneered, which seemed to be the only retort she could come up with.

That wasn’t like Eva. She was quick with the comebacks, smart with her mouth. But with unfamiliar
thoughts floating around in the forefront of her mind, and with the warmth of Trevor’s kiss lingering
on her skin, for once, she couldn’t come up with anything better. She was flustered.

“Do I really need to tell you to bend over again, Red? I’ll gladly kiss that ass of yours anytime.”
She rolled her eyes. Not much else to do to smooth out that comment.
“Should we give them a little show?” he asked, a slight hint of excitement in his voice, like he was

at the shooting range, about to pull the trigger on a brand new Glock for the first time. Yes, gun
metaphors—she was a soldier—it would be the same thing that would give her that slight hint of
excitement too.

Raising an eyebrow, skeptically, she questioned, “Give them a show?
“We’ve got an audience.”
Eva didn’t need to look to the side to know that everyone who was still sitting at that table was

watching them. But before she could even respond to him, he kissed her.

Damn, did he kiss her . . .
His finger rested beneath her chin, lifting it slightly so her head was angled toward his. His lips

brushed over hers, and then lingered there—barely touching. It was agonizing. She wanted so bad to
crush her lips to his—hard. She wanted so bad to lift her hands to the back of his neck and pull him to
her so she could feel the full weight of his lips on hers.

But she didn’t.
His hand dropped from hers, leaving it still resting on his chest, and he placed it on the middle of

her back. Although his mouth was gentle, soft, and light, his hands were firm, hard, and eager. She
liked feeling that from him. And she hated that she liked it.

His lips parted, pushing hers open along with his, then he easily pulled her bottom lip into his

mouth. Just a little. He didn’t suck hard, he didn’t nibble, he just pulled it into his mouth, like he was
trying to taste her, like he was trying to savor a little more of their kiss.

She melted against him and his arms held her tightly. She thought she felt a small tug to the corners

of his lips as if he was smiling, but she couldn’t be sure. She was a sopping puddle. She was a
swooning, sappy, gushy mess at the moment. And none of those things were Eva. She didn’t melt, she
didn’t swoon or gush. But apparently she did now.

His tongue never entered her mouth as he moved his lips over hers. Damn, this man knew what the

hell he was doing. She wanted to slip her tongue inside and taste him, she wanted to feel the warmth
of his mouth coat hers, she wanted to deepen this little teasing kiss and expand the flutter that had
formed in her stomach.

Just as she was about to break her own rule, he pulled away. Moving his mouth to the side of her

neck, he kissed her beneath her ear. This time she felt his tongue. It snaked out and sampled a small
patch of her skin, just barely and all too quickly. Then he moved to her ear and whispered, “See, I
told you it wouldn’t be so bad pretending to be mine.”

If she wasn’t still reeling and lightheaded from the most PG-rated kiss she had ever had, she would

tell him to fuck off. She hated that he knew the effect he just had on her. Eva was a proud woman, and
Trevor was a cocky ass. He could think whatever the hell he wanted to think. There was no way she

would admit what that kiss did to her.

Chapter Five

Trevor watched as Eva pulled her dress over her head, standing in nothing but her flesh-colored

strapless bra and thong. Had he mentioned how fucking nice that ass of hers was?

“I think we pulled it off pretty well, don’t you?” he asked, stepping out of his trousers and hanging

them up.

Eva laughed, her mood from the remainder of the evening seeping into the enclosed space of the

bedroom, making him smile. He’d held on to her, and as the night went on, Eva started holding on to
him as well. She would lean her head against his chest as she laughed. She would pull him against her
as she danced, allowing him to feel the way her hips would dip and sway to the fast beat against him
or the way her chest felt as it rose and fell against him to the rhythm of a slow song. She would smile
at him between her conversations. And she would climb onto his lap when they were all sitting down
having a drink together. Seeing Meagan so happy and witnessing Eva’s joy and ease at her best
friend’s wedding gave him a satisfaction that ran deep. He loved these women, and he’d do anything
to see those smiles across their faces. And he’d admit that it felt damn good to finally get his hands on
that redhead.

“Yep,” she replied, turning her back to him as she unsnapped her bra. But he wasn’t going to

complain, because now he got to peer at that perky little ass of hers.

Pulling a t-shirt over her head that hit the middle of her thigh, she turned back around and raised her

brows at him when she noticed his not so subtle staring.

“What?” he asked innocently. “Don’t flash me your ass if you don’t want me to look.”
Rolling her eyes, she slipped the thong down her legs and pulled on a pair of skimpy shorts.

Yanking down the sheet and comforter, she eyed Trevor while he peeled out of his shirt, enjoying her
view just as he had moments ago. But he liked that she looked at him. He would stand there butt-ass
naked if she wanted him to, all she had to do was ask.

“Was it everything you thought it would be?” she teased as she climbed into bed. That was a bit of

a loaded question. He didn’t know how to answer that. Fuck no, it wasn’t everything he thought it
would be because every time he’d thought about touching her or kissing her, it was a hell of a lot
more than the pathetic attempt at a kiss he gave her out by the tent. But at the same time—at the risk of
sounding like a complete sap—it was more than he thought it would be. He about fucking came
undone when her small body fell against his like she was too weak from his touch to support herself.
The way she shivered under his fingers sent a pulse to his dick that gave him images of making her
shiver beneath his mouth. They way her skin tasted on his tongue . . . fuck.

He turned from her and tried to subtly shift his now hard dick in his tight boxers. Unsuccessful, he

walked to the light switch next to the door and flipped the ceiling light off in attempt to hide his
erection. Was he embarrassed about his dick rising at the thought of her? No. But he didn’t want to
make her uncomfortable.

Pulling his side of the covers down, he crawled in bed next to Eva. He could smell the scent of her

shampoo lingering on her hair as it spilled out on her pillow, cascading over to his side of the bed.
He wanted to reach out and run his fingers through the smooth strands. Her hair was usually in its

natural curly state, wild and wiry—like her. But the soft, flowy locks of hair that splayed out around
her now were calm and soft—kind of like the way she felt in his arms earlier.

Stretching out on his back, he raised his hands above his head.
“Think he bought it?” Eva asked.
He shifted his head toward her. She had turned on her side, her check pressed against the pillow

and her hands tucked up under her chin. She looked meek and vulnerable, and the sight of her curled
sweetly next to him was downright torture.

“Do I think Luke bought it?” He laughed and lowered his voice. “Whether he bought it or not

doesn’t matter. He saw me touch you,”—he watched as a rosy heat fanned across Eva’s face, the dim
florescent light from the bedside lamp aiding his eyes. He smiled, loving the idea of her blushing at
the memory of his touch—“and kiss you. As far as he’s concerned, you’re mine. Pretending or not.”

She sighed, relieved.
“But he’s pissed,” Trevor acknowledged. “If you didn’t want to hurt him, you’re failing. I’m pretty

sure you sent a kick to his balls when you kissed me back.”

“I . . . I” she stammered. “Well . . . No, I didn’t want to hurt him—but he got cocky, acting like he

was happy for me, then when you told everyone we were together he looked at me as if he thought I
was full of shit. Don’t give me a challenge unless you want me to accept it.”

“Down, girl,” he said in the midst of a laugh.
“Well, I’m just saying,” she said defensively.
Reaching over Eva, Trevor switched off the lamp on the nightstand. He rolled back onto his back

and starred up at the black ceiling, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. “I’m sure we
could’ve been a bit more convincing.” His voice was low and deliberate. Rolling to his side, he
lifted his hand to her face and trailed his thumb across her bottom lip. It was plump, and felt soft
under the rough pad of his thumb.

He felt her breath stagger as he moved his body closer to her. He wanted to kiss her, really kiss

her. Not that fucking excuse for a kiss he gave her earlier, or all the chaste kisses they shared
afterward. He wanted to crush his lips to her and still all the air from her lungs until she was begging
him to stop, until she couldn’t possibly continue.

“Trev,” she whispered.
His thumb skimmed across her lip one last time before he moved it over her jaw and down the side

of her neck. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Just do it. Just kiss me.”
Her breathless order was shocking in the best possible way.
So he did. He kissed her. And when his lips fell to hers, she melted beneath him.
And it drove him fucking crazy.
Her response to him was like nothing he ever expected from her. Here was this woman who was

tough as nails, ballsy as hell, bossy and confident—strong—and she was a soft, sweet mess beneath
him. Her breath was cool, as he parted her lips with his and sucked the breath from her mouth into his
own. Without releasing his tongue into her mouth, he tasted her. He pulled her lip between his and
savored the taste of mint and wine that lingered on her mouth.

She writhed under him, pushing herself against him, as if she was trying to form an impression of

her shape along the contour of his body.

His hands wandered along her sides, clutching her against him. “God, you feel fucking perfect,” he

confessed, but the moment the words bounced along the thin slice of air between their mouths, she
froze.

He had lost a bit of his control. He had crossed the line. It was just so goddamned easy to forget

this whole thing wasn’t real when he could feel her softening against his hard body . . .

He released a silent, defeated sigh. “Roll over,” he ordered, not expecting her to comply. But she

did.

His hand wound around her stomach and he pulled her back against his chest. “Lift up your head.”

She did and he slipped his arm underneath her neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he curved his body around hers. She was stiff against him.

Fuck. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable near him. But he didn’t think he could sleep next to her
without touching her.

Not now. Not anymore.
“Spooning you,” he replied. This was magic. It was the one thing every man should know if he

didn’t already. Women were suckers for this position—romantically or not. He was almost positive it
was in their genetic makeup. It was a cure-all for almost any situation a man found himself in. Tell her
to roll over and hold her so tightly against you, and she will more than likely forgive whatever the
hell you did in the first place.

“I know all you women love this shit,” he said, subtlety breathing in the scent of her skin—light and

sweet.

She didn’t say anything, more than likely too stubborn to admit that she in fact loved being spooned,

but she sighed and relaxed, then wedged herself in tighter to him—and that said plenty.

***

Eva stretched her legs, groaning, as she rolled onto her back. Turning her head to the side she

looked over at Trevor who was sound asleep flat on his back. The soft puffs of breath that flowed
from his slightly parted mouth breathed warm air between them. His lips were tempting and she never
realized it until she felt them against hers. He teased her with those lips, and she knew he did it on
purpose. Sure, she’d put the “no tongue” rule into effect, but there was no way he couldn’t tell how
eager she was last night for him to kiss her harder, deeper. She was practically foaming at the mouth
to slip her tongue inside his.

But this was Trevor.
Having these feelings and thoughts about him was insane. After four years, she had never once

wanted to kiss him. Never once wanted to scoot her body in close to his and curl up next to him as he
slept. Fuck. What was wrong with her?

But then again, she had never seen this side of Trevor either. The sexy side. Okay, she had seen the

sexy side, but she had never had that sexy side directed at her. Yes he flirted, he was the definition of
a flirt. But the way he regarded her yesterday, and the way he moved his fingers, his hands, his lips,
on her was different. It was sensual. It was sexy. It was sweet.

She would never have thought that the lovable man-whore she called a friend had a sexy side that

ran deeper than his playboy persona . . .

Fighting the desire to reach out and touch the muscles that rippled under his bare stomach, she slid

from the bed and quietly crept toward the door, closing it on her way out.

It was early, but it seemed that everyone was already up. Becky was playing with her daughter in

the living room while a few of Reed’s friends watched TV, and Luke was sitting with Meagan, Reed,
and his parents at the kitchen table.

Ambling into the kitchen, she pulled a coffee cup from the cabinet and filled it.
“How’d ya sleep last night, babe?” Meagan asked when Eva pulled a bar stool over to the table

and sat down.

She narrowed her eyes and said, “Fine. How was your wedding night? And why the hell are you

already up? Reed, I’m disappointed in you. I would have hoped you’d worn my girl out.”

Meagan blushed and shifted her eyes to Reed’s parents, embarrassed.
“Don’t be disappointed,” Reed said, sending Meagan a look that almost gave Eva the warm

fuzzies. “I’m not.” He winked.

Again, Eva had to hand it to Meagan. Reed was sex on a stick and head over heels for Meagan. She

had a good one.

A bare chest pressed against her back and she felt a firm kiss on the back of her head as two hands

fell to her shoulders. “You snuck out on me this morning, baby.” Trevor said, diving right back in to
his role as boyfriend of the year.

She smiled and peered over her shoulder at him. “That’s because you looked so good sleeping. I’m

surprised you’re up already.”

He leaned his head down to her ear and nipped it quickly with his teeth, but the sensation it left

behind sent a flutter between her legs. “I’d be happy to go back to bed if you come with me,” he said
softly.

She pressed her thighs together, aggravated with her body’s response to him. He was just

pretending—it wasn’t real—but the way she reacted to his touch, to his words—there was nothing
pretend about it.

Lifting her chin, she looked up at him and smiled. He caught her face between his hands and

crushed his lips to hers. There was nothing sweet and gentle about the way his lips moved over hers
this time. He was staking his make-believe claim on her for everyone to see—and she let him.

His tongue still didn’t invade her mouth. He kept true to their ground rules, but that didn’t stop him

from parting his mouth and breathing his breath into hers. It was minty, and cool, and it only
intensified the need she had to taste him completely.

Planting a final kiss to the corner of her mouth, he pulled away and walked to the fridge, opening it

up and grabbing the milk jug. Meagan cleared her throat, drawing Eva’s attention away from the way
Trevor’s muscles moved across his back as he tilted his head back and pulled from the plastic jug.

Meagan’s brows reached her hairline and her already big, round eyes widened even more. She’d

definitely caught Eva checking out her friend. Maybe she’d think it was all part of the game? Wishful
thinking. Eva just turned away. Meagan was her best friend, and she could see through any lie she told
—verbal or nonverbal.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Eva asked in an attempt to change the subject and distract her mind

from the man she seemed unable to take her eyes from.

“Meagan wants a lazy day,” Reed responded. Meagan was a little disappointed that they couldn’t

go on a honeymoon immediately following their wedding, but she couldn’t travel too far while she
was pregnant. “We were just going to lie around by the pool and probably head back home later this
evening.”

“You’re not staying the night here again?” Eva asked.
Meagan popped a spoonful of yogurt in her mouth and shook her head. “No, our parents are leaving

after breakfast and we want to get back. We have the cabin through tomorrow though, so feel free to
stay. Plus it will give you and Trevor some more time together.”

Trevor pulled a bar stool next to Eva and sat down. He looked at her and winked. “Sounds good to

me.”

Chapter Six

“Hey, Trev,” Eva shouted from the pool were she was lounging on an inflatable raft. “Will you get

me another beer?”

They had spent the entire day out by the pool. They had cooked stakes out on the grill and drank

well into evening. The sun was setting and Eva was more than a little tipsy—but so was Trevor. He
was far from sloppy drunk, but he was well past the point of sober.

“Come get it,” he hollered from the hammock that was on the deck. He heard her groan and he

laughed. She was still a pain in the ass.

Stepping out of the pool, Eva crossed the deck toward Trevor. Her fit body was nothing but

smooth, lean lines and tight, firm muscle. Trevor loved a woman’s body. God created one beautiful
creature when he made woman. Their bodies—the way their breasts set the path for their sides to dip
and curve into hips that were made to be held which led to legs that were easily his weakness. A
woman’s body was something he appreciated—all shapes and sizes. Trevor loved them all. Big ass,
full tits—perfect. Small tits, killer legs, no ass—perfect. It didn’t matter what combo, they were
fucking beautiful.

But watching as Eva walked toward him, her body glistening from drops of water, had ruined any

future woman he would set his eyes on, because this one in front of him set the bar pretty damn high.
Her chest was small but the cleavage that was pushed up out of her swimsuit top made him want to
run his tongue in between her breasts. The woman had abs too. Her stomach was flat and smooth, but
when she moved just right—unintentionally flexing her stomach—a slight six pack would make an
appearance. It was feminine, subtle, and sexy as hell. Then her legs . . . and her ass . . . nothing more
needed to be said. Pure perfection.

“Beer me,” she ordered when she stepped in front of him. Reaching down, he stuck his hand into

the cooler that was next to him and pulled out a beer.

“Thank you,” she said, stretching her hand out in front of her to take the beer from his hands, but he

grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her down on top of him instead.

The hammock rocked and swayed with the motion of her body tumbling onto his. She laughed, and

it was honest and free. “Dammit, Trev,” she murmured, feigning annoyance.

She was running the length of him, her legs over his, her bare stomach on his, her tits pressed

against his chest, and her face a mere inch from his. He had never felt her above him—on him—and
she molded to him like she was cut from the same pattern. It felt. . . right.

Pretending to be with Eva was easy. And wanting to get Eva in his bed was easy for Trevor to

understand. He had wanted this feisty woman since he met her. However, enjoying the easy way it felt
to hold her against him, or the way it felt to touch her or kiss her was hard for him to wrap his head
around. Wanting Eva this way was never something he saw coming. He didn’t realize the effect she
would have on him.

“That was pretty smooth,” she acknowledged as she adjusted herself on top of him.
There wasn’t much in the way of material between them. Just knowing that all it would take was

one little tug and her top would fall free did things to him that weren’t necessarily ideal given the

company they were in. Oh, and the fact that this wasn’t real.

“I try.” He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but a smile was planted firmly in place.
Trevor’s palms lifted to her back. Her skin felt damp and smooth as his hands leisurely browsed

her flesh, testing and exploring the sweet feel of her back.

He could see the white rays in her blue irises as her face hovered over his. Her eyes had always

been killer—bright, crystal-clear blue eyes that stood out next to her copper-colored hair. But now
that they were so close to his, just peering at him, he realized those eyes could do some damage. He
felt like he was getting sucked in, or lost, or fuck, hypnotized just looking at them.

She was waiting, concentrating on his hands, which were still skimming the bare skin of her back,

rubbing gentle circles and delicate patterns across it.

Then she kissed him.
And it knocked the air from his lungs.
Her lips fell to his in an urgent, desperate descent. They moved over his as if she couldn’t do

anything other than kiss him. Fuck, he wanted so badly to part her lips with his tongue and sink it into
the depths of her mouth so he could explore and taste her. He wanted to truly kiss her. He wanted to
make her delirious with his kiss. He wanted to steal the breath from her lungs and the thoughts from
her mind. But this was just part of the game. It was make-believe. And she made the rules.

His hands left her back and threaded through her wet hair, drawing her mouth tighter to his.
She moaned.
It was soft, and barely audible. But he heard it. And there was no pretending about the way that

breathy little sigh sounded as it hummed from her chest.

“Get a damn room,” Finn, one of Reed’s friends, hollered from the pool. There were only a handful

of people left at the cabin, and they were all good people, but Trevor was tempted to jump in the pool
to give Finn a reason to shut the hell up. Because the second his voice hit their ears, Eva pulled away.

Her face was damn close to the same color as her hair. She looked mortified. Her breathing was

quick and she refused to meet his eyes.

His hands rested on the side of her neck and he forced her to look at him. She didn’t say anything,

just moved her eyes over his face—trying desperately not to meet his.

“Eva,” he whispered, bringing her attention to him. “It was just a kiss. And a damn good one at

that. All part of the show, baby.” He raised his head off the hammock and pressed his lips to hers
once more, only this time he broke the rule. This time he allowed his tongue to venture out—just
slightly—and skim across her bottom lip. He felt her body relax against him for a brief moment, then
her eyes opened and she separated her lips from his.

She smiled, one that was equal parts sexy and evil. She was playing the cocky card to cover her

embarrassment. But this woman knew the effect she was having on him, and she was enjoying the shit
out of it.

***

She’d had one too many. Okay, maybe a little more than one too many. But it was easier to deal

with the shit floating around in her head when her head was fuzzy from alcohol. She’d lost a little bit
of her control up on the deck. But she was a woman, and when a man—a sexy-as-hell man at that—

was running his hands over her body, when she could feel his cock hardening against her, and when
his eyes were looking at her like he was looking for a way in, she couldn’t help it. She kissed him.
And it wasn’t for show. It wasn’t to prove some false point to her ex, it wasn’t to play the part of the
smitten girlfriend, and it wasn’t to appease him. She had kissed him because at that very moment, it
was the only thing she could think about.

The bed dipped down beside her. “You awake, Red?” Trevor asked as he slid in next to her. She

was facing away from him, but she could easily picture him stretched out on his back, his hard chest
rising and falling as he rested his hands under his head.

“Yep,” she replied.
“Ohhh,” he groaned as she felt him flip to his side. “I’m not looking forward to the drive home

tomorrow.”

She was tired. Her good buzz was wearing off, leaving her drowsy. Closing her eyes and drifting

off into dreamland sounded like heaven—but it looked like she was going to have to endure some
pillow talk first.

She sighed and rolled over to face Trevor. When she looked at him that stupid tickle took over her

stomach again. He looked at her differently than before, which she supposed was normal considering
they got a tiny glimpse of a different side of each other these last two days. But the way her body
responded to this new look shocked her. It had always been easy to turn Trevor down because he was
the male version of herself. Casual sex and easy relationships were their signatures and on the
surface, they seemed like the perfect match. But she knew his type and how they operated because she
was the type. She operated the same damn way. She didn’t get close and she didn’t get serious. She
had no hang-ups, no heartbroken past that would cause her to shy away from the proverbial happily
ever after, and no insecurities she needed to work through. She had just never felt it. She never felt the
desire to want anything more than casual fun from a man. But here lay the problem: The way Trevor
looked at her paired with the way it made her feel—that unfamiliar little pitter patter that had
somehow crept into her chest—made her feel more than she had ever felt before. And it terrified her.
It screamed heartbreak. She just didn’t know if it would be hers or his.

Trevor’s face contorted into a goofy-ass frown, his brows furrowing, causing deep wrinkles to

form between his eyes. “You’ve got that look,” he said, unsure.

“What look?” she questioned, fighting back a yawn.
“Like you’re plowing through some serious shit in that confusing head of yours.”
“I’m just exhausted,” she said, refusing to admit that she was juggling the new and strange feelings

she was suddenly having toward him. He was Trevor. Trevor. Maybe it was just the alcohol.

“All right, roll back over. I’ve got this,” he teased, moving closer to her. That would have been just

fine had her heart not decided to lodge in her throat at the little movement. He stretched his arm out
across the mattress in front of him. “Come on,” he encouraged. “I’ll spoon ya.”

“I think you like this more than me,” she said as she rolled over to her side and rested her head on

his arm. He instantly wrapped his free arm around her stomach and pulled her against him.

He laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But don’t tell anyone.”
“Heaven forbid your ladies’-man reputation gets tainted by the rumor that you like to cuddle before

you fall asleep.”

“Actually, tell away. It might score me a few more points. Not that I need any.”
Shaking her head she said, “And there’s the Trevor I know and love. Thought I lost you there for a

little bit while you were playing boyfriend of the year today.”

He scooted in closer to her back and fastened his grip on her a little tighter. “Nope, I’m still here.”
She laughed. “Good, I was worried.”
She felt his fingers slip beneath the hem of her tank top. The rough pads of his fingertips softly

brushed the skin above her panties, causing the muscles in her stomach to tighten as the rest of her
body froze. “So you didn’t like pretending with me?” he whispered. His face was buried against the
back of her neck and his warm breath tickled her skin in the best possible way.

“Trevor”—she inhaled as his fingers started travelling up her stomach toward her naked breasts

—“what are you doing?” Her voice sounded airy, nervous, and excited all at once, betraying her from
her attempts at sounding stern.

“What does it feel like I’m doing?” he asked. Dammit. His voice took on a new tone, a sexy quality

that she never expected or heard. It made that tickle in her stomach spread lower until it reached hot
right between her thighs.

“It feels . . .” she trailed off as his hand reached the underside of her breast.
“Does it feel good?” he asked before he latched his lips onto her earlobe.
She lost all coherent thought. The leftover buzz combined with the intoxicating touch she was

experiencing took all words from her mouth and shoved any resistance she was going to have out the
window.

“Eva?”
“Hmm?” That was all she had in her. She was tired, and his hands and mouth tantalized her body,

lulling her mind while igniting a hot spark that ran through her veins. The heat from his bare chest and
the weight of his body leaning against her intensified both sensations. She felt drunk again, pixilated
by his titillating touch.

His lips tightened into a smile against the side of her neck. “Should I take that as a yes?”
Her shoulders relaxed a bit more when his breath rolled across her skin. She nodded.
His hand cupped her breast, his thumb rolling over her nipple. “What about this?” he asked,

seeming confident of her answer, then went back to dusting kisses along the back of her neck, sending
an array of goose bumps in every direction. His tongue darted out and swiped a line from the base of
her ear to the curve of her neck and she shivered.

“You like this too?”
He wanted her to say it. He wanted her to tell him exactly how much his touch was affecting her.

But he didn’t need the verbal confirmation, she knew he didn’t. Her body’s reactions said enough. He
was such a cocky ass. “Don’t play stupid with me, Trev. You know I like it. But I’m not about to start
stroking your ego now.”

His laughter pushed her hair around her shoulder. “Please tell me you keep your feistiness in bed

too.”

Were they going to do this? Was she going to go here with him? God, she wanted it. But a small

part of her hesitated, wondering if it would take away from their friendship. Would it change
everything?

Somehow, she thought it already had.
She flipped to her back and looked up at him. His steel eyes looked like liquid metal. Hot and

shiny—glassed over with desire. The corners of his lips tilted into a lopsided smirk and his tongue
darted out and skimmed across them. Whether or not he did it on purpose didn’t matter. She wanted it.

She wanted it on her. She wanted to taste it and feel it—everywhere.

He was lying on his side, hovering over her. His hand was stroking up and down her stomach, each

time getting a little lower and lower.

He held her eyes. There was no question in them, no waiting, and no wondering. It’s like he knew

the answer to all his questions already. He knew she wanted him. He knew how good his hands on
her felt, and he was drinking it all in by the look in her eyes.

“I’m bending your rules . . .” he quipped, yet the low, raspy vibration of his words sounded as if he

was questioning her reaction, giving her the opportunity to tell him to stop. He knew her body wanted
him, but he also understood the game.

“Fuck the rules,” she proclaimed. Then she leaned up and crushed her lips to his.
Immediately his tongue invaded her mouth. Finally. He was forceful and eager but completely

gentle at the same time. She melted into the mattress as his body made its way on top of her. She felt
deluged by him—but she loved it. Every inch of her body was touching a part of him and it calmed the
rotating ball in her chest that had been building and building over the weekend, ever since their
charade had started and he’d first touched her in a way he’d never touched her before.

His lips left her mouth and she whimpered. She wasn’t done kissing him. She loved the way his

mouth moved over hers. She loved the taste of him on her lips.

Abruptly opening her eyes from shock, she stared at the ceiling. Being with Trevor this way felt

right, it felt good. They were behind closed doors. There was no pretending going on between them
but that didn’t make it real—and she didn’t care.

“Red?” he questioned, looking into her eyes as if they held the answer. When she didn’t respond,

he dipped his head down and scattered kisses along the base of her throat.

“I want this,” he said, snaking his hands down her sides and to the back of her thighs. He pulled her

legs up, his hips falling between her thighs as he continued to tease the thin skin at her throat with his
tongue. “I want you. I want to pull these fucking shorts from these fine-ass legs of yours and bury
myself deep inside you. Fuck, Eva,” he whispered, lifting his head back to look at her. She could feel
his erection pressing against her, nestling along the exact place it needed to be. Just the hard feel of it
between their clothes made her internal muscles clench in anticipation. She wanted this too.

“I’m hangin’ on by a thread here, baby,” he said as his forehead fell to hers. “I can feel you want

this just as much as I do. But if I’m wrong, tell me now and I’ll stop. Because if not—”

“Don’t stop, Trev.”
He leaned up, bracing his hands on either side of her body to support his weight. “Are you sure?”
She grabbed the hem of her tank top and peeled it over her head, dropping it off the side of the bed.

“I’m sure,” she said as she leaned up onto her elbow to get closer to him. She extended her neck to
reach his chest and licked the underside of his hard pectoral as she dragged her nails along his lower
back until they reached the waist of his boxers.

His eyes were observing her with a need that matched her own. Her tongue journeyed over to the

other pec and she swirled it over his nipple. He groaned deep in his throat and leaned back onto his
knees. Grabbing the sides of her shorts, he quickly tugged them down. “Dammit, Red. I could look at
your naked body all fucking night.”

She smiled. “Well, please don’t. I need you to do more than just look at me.”
Leaning down, he stopped a breath away from her lips. “I plan on it,” he whispered before he

kissed her. They were pressed together, skin to skin, and it felt good. Better than good. His mouth

teased and taunted her lips while his hands worked her breasts, his fingers roughly pulling on her
nipples until she was moaning into his mouth.

She squirmed beneath him. She was enjoying his touch. She was enjoying his kisses. But she

needed more. He had touched her and kissed her all day, making her crave more from him. She knew
he could be sweet. He could be intimate and considerate. He’d known when to soothe her, or when to
touch her to ignite a physical reaction from her. He’d caressed her softly, kissed her gently, and held
her fondly. He had played the perfect part. But now it was just the two of them. She didn’t want any of
those other things from him. She just wanted him inside her. She wanted to feel him deep and hard.
She wanted him to lose the control he exuded with her. For the first time since she’d known him, she
wanted him to let go and take her.

“Trev,” she said, breaking their kiss.
He was breathless and panting. Moving his mouth to her breasts, he wrapped his lips around her

nipple, pulling it into his mouth, swirling his tongue.

She arched into him, the throb between her thighs increasing with the wet warmth of his mouth

followed by the cool sting as he pulled away and blew over the previously assaulted skin.

“Trev,” she repeated.
“Hmm?” he responded, licking a path down the center of her stomach.
She sighed. “This feels good”—he latched onto the inside of her thigh and squeezed, causing her to

jerk from the sweet bite of his fingers—“oh . . . it feels good . . . but—”

“This is only the beginning,” he whispered against her stomach. His fingers skimmed up her thigh

until they brushed her center, then he sank a finger inside her—testing her wetness.

Writhing against his hand, she moaned. “I’m more of an instant gratification girl. Trev, I need you

to fuck me, now.”

His head lifted and an elated grin pulled across his face. “Damn, feisty and bossy.”
She slipped her fingers under the waist of his boxers and started tugging them down. “Stop.

Talking.”

Laughing, he stood from the bed and stepped out of his boxers. Eva stared at him unashamed. His

body was a masterpiece cut from stone. His chiseled chest and abs had always been her favorite spot
to view, but seeing the sharp cut of his hips that created a path to his impressive cock was sneaking
into first place. Seeing him naked made her appreciate staring at him even more than she did before.
She loved thick thighs on a man, and Trevor’s were perfect. The muscles moved under his skin as he
walked to his suitcase and a grin fanned her heated face as she watched him from behind. Pure.
Fucking. Perfection.

Trevor grabbed a condom out of his bag and made his way back to the bed. Eva’s heart started

banging against her chest making it hard to breathe. Stopping in front of the mattress, he smiled down
at her, slow and torturous—cocky.

Crawling to him, she stopped at the edge of the bed and took him in her hand. Yes, she wanted him

to fuck her. But she needed to touch him—just once. She wanted to feel him and show him that she
could have the same effect on him as he had on her.

Gipping him tightly, she slid her hand down his hard shaft, then back up. He twitched in her hand

and pushed his hips toward her. “Easy, Red,” he said between a moan and a sigh. Easy wasn’t
generally a word she was familiar with in the bedroom. Leaning forward, she wrapped her mouth
around the head of his cock, swirling her tongue around the tip as she slid her hand back down.

“Fuuck.” This was the exact effect she wanted to have on him.
She sucked harder and cupped him underneath, rolling him in her hands as she trailed her tongue

down the underside of his cock to the base before pulling the smooth skin into her mouth as she
continued to stroke him with her hand. She loved this. She loved the control she felt with him in her
mouth, pleasuring him, making him flex his hips and moan deep in his chest. She loved the way his
hands held tight in her hair, holding her in place as she hummed softly around him.

Pulling her mouth away and licking her way back up, she sucked the head of his cock back into her

mouth once more then took him all—as much as she could, relaxing her throat as she sucked him
deeper.

A stream of curses flew from his mouth in a low, pleasure-induced rasp. His hands left her hair and

he clasped onto her shoulders, pushing her back. “Turn over,” he ordered.

She smiled, she couldn’t help it. The sound of his voice was raw, desperate, and sexy as hell. And

she loved being the reason for his urgency.

***

This woman was testing his limitations and pushing them to the brink of shattering. She had

shocked the hell out of him when she wrapped her mouth around his dick. Her sweet, warm mouth.
Hell, he was lucky he didn’t come. She knew how to suck cock, that was for damn sure. As much as
he would have loved to feel those full lips of hers squeeze his dick as he came into her mouth—he
wanted to come with her. He wanted to hear her scream out his name as he pounded into her from
behind, latching onto her ass, her hips, her hair, whatever the hell he could get his hands on. And
that’s exactly what he planned on doing.

He watched as she crawled onto her hands and knees; that perfectly round ass of hers in his reach,

just begging to turn pink from his palm.

Trevor flattened his hand on Eva’s back, just above her ass, and guided it forward until it was

resting between her shoulder blades, then he pushed her down. Her arms gave, bending at the elbow
until her cheek was pressed into the mattress and she was supporting herself with her forearms. She
was open for him, her ass in the air, and it was fucking beautiful. Sliding a finger over her opening, he
teased her, giving her just enough to make her tighten around his finger, but not enough to hit that
sweet spot deep inside her. No, he would hit that spot soon enough, though.

“Damn, you’re wet,” he murmured. She rocked her hips back, trying to push his fingers in deeper

but he withdrew. “Impatient?”

“Yes,” she hissed.
Okay, so he hadn’t planned to rub that little sweet spot with his finger because he wanted her strung

out and begging for him, but the sound of pure desperation in her voice crumbled his resolve. And
he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to feel her squirm from his touch.

He slid his finger back inside her and readjusted the angle of his hand, then leisurely pushed

another in, reaching them deeper, before hooking his fingers until he felt that soft pad that emitted a
moan from her lips. Fuck it. Instant gratification was overrated.

He lowered his body, kneeling on the floor. God she was beautiful. Reaching up, he latched onto

her hips and pulled her body toward him until her knees were on the edge of the bed and her calves
and feet were dangling of the side. Then he slowly swiped his tongue up the center of her pussy—

giving plenty of attention to her clit as he plunged his fingers back inside her.

An audible sigh saturated the air around them and she rocked her hips back as if she was begging

for more, searching for her release. She tasted too fucking sweet, and he could easily stay where he
was all night and taste her until every muscle in her body gave out. But he was being selfish. He knew
having her naked in his bed was a rare opportunity and one that he might not ever get again. He was
going to take her. He was going to make her remember the way it felt to have him deep inside her.

He withdrew his fingers and stood back up, a whimper reaching his ears. “Trevor,” she whined,

her voice uneven and heavy.

“Almost, baby,” he promised as he ripped the condom foil open with his teeth and slid it down his

erection.

“Hurry.”
He loved hearing her beg for him. He was used to her razor-tongue and her snarky attitude toward

him. Sure she was sweet—but this woman liked to rib him every chance she got, so hearing her on the
flip side begging for him was a sound he would replay over and over again in his mind.

He didn’t give her warning. He just secured his hands on her hips and thrust into her. She gasped in

shock then sighed in relief. She was tight, and wet, and warm. He didn’t know how long he would
last, especially when she clamped down around him, clinging to him as he pulled his hips back,
sliding out of her. But he would try like hell.

Holding onto her, he pulled himself out then thrust back in—hard and deep. He didn’t want to go

fast. Instead, he found a steady rhythm that allowed him to appreciate every slick part of her pussy as
he pumped into her.

His hands enjoyed their exploration of her body as he watched them connect from behind. Her tight

stomach, her perky tits, and her delicious ass.

Eva lifted her face from the mattress and raised up on her hands so she could join in on the rhythm

he set in place. He saw an opportunity and he took advantage, collecting her curly hair in his hands
and tugging back, pinning her head in place.

She groaned in satisfaction. He knew she would like it rough.
He leaned his chest against her back, snaking his free hand around her to rub her clit as he sucked

on her shoulder. So many sensations rolling and weaving and overlapping all at once and it was
sending him closer and closer.

Leaning back up, keeping a hold on her hair, he smacked her ass—and she jumped. It was a

surprised little jerk, making her tighten around his dick. So he gently rubbed the branded flesh—then
did it again. Only this time harder.

Then she shuddered.
She came around him hard, her moans absorbing his grunts as he pumped his release in unison with

her own.

He relinquished his grip on her hair and her head dropped between her shoulders. Holding onto her

hip, he slowed the beat of their connecting bodies, bringing her back down.

Once he eased out of her, she collapsed onto the bed—worn out and satisfied. Leaning down, he

kissed the smooth sweet skin on her hip, then scattered a few kisses over her pink ass.

Sighing, she curled up on her side and he slid in behind her.
He kissed the back of her neck. “Even better than I imagined, Red,” he whispered into her hair.
She didn’t respond, she just wedged herself in tightly to him. Tomorrow he was heading back to

Fort Drum. Tonight was fucking bittersweet. He’d finally got a taste of this fiery redhead that he had
been craving for years. And he was pretty sure he was only getting this one little sample. Their
weekend of pretending was over. Too damn bad he hadn’t been pretending the whole fucking time.

Chapter Twelve

Trevor was startled awake by the sound of his phone ringing. It was four thirty in the morning, and

the only time he got calls this early was on the rare occasion he was late for PT, or if something was
wrong. Considering it was Sunday, he didn’t have the best feeling.

Quickly, he stumbled out of bed and fished for his phone, which was ringing from somewhere in

his suitcase. Picking it up, he pressed the little green answer button and held it to his ear.

“Hello,” he said, his voice deep and raspy from a hard sleep.
“Trevor,” a voice choked out.
“Mom?” He started moving. Pinning the phone to his ear with his shoulder, he snatched his boxers

from the floor and yanked them on. “Mom?” he repeated. He could hear her sniffling on the other end
of the phone, and his heart sank to his stomach at the same time it seemed to lodge in his throat.
“Mom, what’s wrong? Is it Dad?”

Eva shifted on the bed, her eyes fluttering open and landing directly on him. He must have had a

look from hell molded into his expression, because she jerked from bed almost as quickly as he had.

“Yes, it’s Dad,” she finally answered.
“What is it?” He pulled on his gym shorts and zipped up his suitcase.
“He’s in the hospital, Trevor. It’s bad. Really bad.”
“God dammit,” he shouted, feeling the need to throw his phone or punch the wall—anything to

release the fear that was molding into anger.

“I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and grabbed his keys and wallet off the nightstand.
“What’s wrong?” Eva asked.
He turned around to face her knowing good and well he was on the verge of breaking, but when he

saw her face flash with concern and fear, he slipped over that small ledge he was clinging to and
shattered.

“My Dad’s dying.” Saying the words made them register.
“Oh my God, Trev.” Eva jumped off the bed and threw her arms around his waist. He wrapped her

up in his arms and let her assimilate some of his grief. He wanted to hold her until the sun came up.
He didn’t want this weekend with her to end. It felt like the last few days never really happened. He
woke up and reality kicked him in the fucking balls.

Eva wasn’t his and she never would be.
And his dad was dying.
“I’ve gotta go, Red,” he said against her hair as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.
“I’ll walk you out.”
“No,” he protested. “Go back to bed. I’ll be fine.”
Fact of the matter was, he didn’t know how much longer he could pretend to be fine.

***

“What?” Meagan sobbed. “Did he say how serious the situation was? What did his mom say?”

Eva’s foot pressed down on the accelerator, increasing her speed. “I don’t know,” Eva admitted.

She had left the cabin shortly after Trevor and debated calling and waking Meagan up so early, but
Meagan was Trevor’s best friend since he was a kid. She had to call her. “He left in such a hurry that
I didn’t get any information from him. He was a wreck, though, Meggy. I’ve never seen him look
defeated like that before.”

“Fuck,” she spat. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later. I’ve gotta call him.”
“Okay,” Eva said before the line went dead. She felt about as useful as a round of a cartridge full

of blanks.

***

Opening the door to her apartment, Eva was surprised to see Meagan lying down on the chaise

part of the sectional. Meagan still had the key to the apartment that Eva had shared with her up until a
few weeks ago when Reed bought a house and she started moving some things into their new place.

“What are you doing here?”
“I talked to Trevor.”
“He okay? How’s his dad?” Eva asked, walking into the living room and setting her bags down.
“The tumor has spread, it’s pressing on his medial temporal lobe. His memory is deteriorating,

along with the blood supply to his brain. He’s in a lot of pain, babe. Trevor’s worried he won’t hold
on much longer.”

Tears formed at the back of Eva’s eyes. She had never met Trevor’s parents, but Meagan had

always spoken highly of them. She’d known them growing up; they were like second parents to her.

Eva’s heart broke a little for Trevor in that moment. He was alone. No siblings to endure the

weight of the grief that he was concealing. It was just him and his mom.

“What can we do?” Eva asked. She wasn’t as close to him as Meagan was, but she’d grown to care

about him over the years. And after last night . . .

Meagan looked down at her large pregnant belly then back to Eva. “I can’t do anything.”
“No, you can’t, but I can,” she said picking up her bags and heading toward her room. Meagan

stood and followed her.

Lifting her suitcase onto her bed, she emptied all her clothes before walking to her closet to grab

more.

“What are you doing?” Meagan asked, leaning against the door frame, her arms resting on top of

her belly.

“I’m going to him,” she replied as if the answer should have been obvious.
Eva looked over her shoulder to see Meagan smiling. “Good,” she said with a little too much pep

in her voice given the current situation. “Reed already bought you a plane ticket, it leaves in two
hours.”

“Figured I would be going?”
“I had hoped,” she replied. “He needs you, Eva.”
“I know.”
Trevor would do anything for her and Meagan. He had proved that time and time again. And she

cared about him. More now than she ever had before, and she wanted to be there for him. But a part
of her was afraid. What if things were awkward between them? What if they couldn’t get back what

they had before? What if he didn’t want her there?

Her head was on repeat, shuffling around the same questions over and over again in her mind as

she zipped up her suitcase and headed for the shower.

She would find out soon enough.

Chapter Eight

Trevor pulled into the parking lot of Baptist Memorial Hospital right before noon. Nerves set in as

he stepped out of his truck, slamming the door behind him.

He wasn’t ready to see his dad the way he knew he was going to see him. Weak. Frail. Old. Dying.

He wasn’t ready to admit that his hero, the man he looked up to, was closing in on his time in this
world. How did someone cope with the loss of a parent? It was a love like no other. His father was
the center of every childhood memory he had, the gravitational pull to his entire existence. You were
born into this world knowing nothing other than the love of the people who cared for you. You knew
nothing about the world, or life, or the death that inevitably followed. You only knew love. It was
your parents’ job to expand that love and keep it sacred. It was the same love that you would also
leave the world with. And he wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He wasn’t ready for a piece of him to be
taken with the death of his father.

Walking through the sterile hospital, stopping only to ask the nurse which room his dad was in, he

made his way down the cold, unforgiving hall of the cancer center.

He knocked on his dad’s door and heard the sound of his mother’s voice telling him to come in.
An ache spread through his chest like a spider’s web around his heart. His dad was sleeping, his

mother was sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed holding his hand. Had he not seen the faint and
subtle movement of his father’s chest, he would have assumed he was too late.

“How’s he doin’?” he asked his mom as he walked to her and kissed the top of her head, hugging

her shoulders from behind.

“The pain from his headaches is under control now.” Her voice cracked. “But he’s barely with us

anymore, Trevor. Some days he doesn’t recognize me at all,” she sobbed.

Movement on the bed caused him to shift his focus from his broken mom. His dad’s eyes slowly

opened and a smiled took over his thin face.

“Hi, son.” His voice was weak, exhausted, and slurred from his medication, but he knew who

Trevor was—he was with them. Thank God. He felt the urge to drop to his knees and bow his head
and thank his maker for giving him this day with his father. The entire ride to the hospital he prayed
that his dad would recognize him, that his dad knew he was his son.

Closing his eyes briefly, Trevor sent up another silent prayer.
“Hey, old man, you look like shit,” he said, leaning down and hugging his dad as hard as he

possible could without hurting him. The spider web grew . . .

“I’m supposed to look like shit, what’s your excuse?”
“I have none.” He laughed. But it was a brittle sound.
A knock on the door stole all of their attention. He hoped it was the doctor. Trevor had a lot of

questions he wanted to ask.

But the face he saw when that door opened was more than he could have hoped for.
His mouth parted slightly into a slow smile as Eva walked into the room.
“Hey, Red. What’re you doin’ here?” he asked, shocked, crossing the room to her.
“I’m sorry,” she said shyly—a sound he was unfamiliar with. “I hope I’m not intruding, I . . . I—”

she stumbled over her words as she fidgeted with her hands. He didn’t know how to wrap his head
around her behavior. This was not the Eva he knew. She was never intimidated or nervous. She
grabbed life by the balls and told it to go to hell if it didn’t do what she wanted. God, he hoped she
wasn’t acting like this because of last night. He hoped like hell she didn’t regret what went on
between them.

“I . . . wanted to make sure you were okay,” she finally said. When he smiled at her it seemed to

ease whatever the hell had her worked up in the first place and he relaxed a little. “Plus, I thought this
would be a good chance to meet the man who taught Meagan to shoot a rifle and who let her have her
first shot of tequila.”

Everyone laughed. His mom threw back her head and rang out a sound that soothed a sorrow he

hadn’t realized he had in his heart. His dad chuckled at the memory, his thin body shaking from
laughter. And Trevor laughed not only at the memory, but because this woman next to him was the one
who came to his rescue when he didn’t even fucking realize he needed rescuing.

“You know, her dad about kicked my sorry ass when he found out his little girl shot a weapon. We

never did tell him about the tequila, though, best to keep that one between us, young lady,” his dad
teased.

She smiled her true Eva smile, all previous nerves gone. “My lips are sealed,” she said, moving

her fingers from one side of her mouth to the other.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Trevor whispered.

***

Walking into that room was probably the ballsiest thing Eva had ever done. Who the hell did she

think she was coming to the hospital to see a man she had never met and to comfort a man she didn’t
know how she felt about?

Then she looked at Trevor, the man who had more tricks up his sleeve than a clown at the circus,

and he was grasping at straws. He had nothing. The ease he always carried was drained from his
face, and the elation she had just witnessed only twelve hours ago had evaporated. He was hurting.

Without a second thought, she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, molding her

body to his side and resting her head on his chest. She offered him comfort. It’s what she came to do.
It’s what she would have done even if the last seventy-two hours never happened. Trevor was her
friend. She would always be there for him.

The hard muscles of his body relaxed against her, at least a little of the proverbial weight lifting

from his shoulders as he leaned into her. His arms wrapped around her and he held her close, clinging
to her like a life support. His lips pressed against the top of her head and he kissed her quickly.
“Thanks,” he whispered.

She looked up at him and winked. “Anytime, Trev.”
“Well, it’s about damn time, son,” his dad said. They both looked at him in confusion.
“For what, Dad?” Trevor asked narrowing his eyes, a puzzled look taking over his expression.
“It’s about damn time you picked one woman. I never thought I’d live to see the day that my son

would finally settle down and choose a woman. And I have to say, she’s awful pretty,” he winked at
her, and she knew where Trevor had gotten the gesture from. “This one will keep you on your toes,
son. I can already tell that much about her.” He lifted his hand, motioning for Eva to come to him.

She looked at Trevor. He always knew when to bail her out, he always could read when it was

time for him to swoop in and save the day—but the look on his face was lost. Somewhere in between
the truth and the lie. His dad thought Eva was Trevor’s girlfriend—and he was happy. He obviously
knew his son’s bedroom preference of multiple guests.

Trevor dropped his arms from her, giving her the nonverbal cue to go to his dad. She made quick

work of her feet, crossing the small distance to the bed, and taking his outstretched hand in hers.

He tugged on her hand, pulling her down in a hug—another thing Trevor had gotten from his dad.

“I’m so happy he finally has a woman to love,” he whispered in her ear as he held her in a tight
embrace. “We Owens men are hard to break, but once we do—it’s forever. You take good care of my
son for me, will ya?”

Eva didn’t know this man yet he had the ability to bring her to a sopping mess in the matter of thirty

seconds with just few words. Words were lodged in her throat, strangled by the tears that were now
streaming down her cheeks. He was worried about his son, worried because he was dying . . .

“Can you promise me that?” he asked again, desperation mixed with joy humming in his voice.
She nodded. “I promise. I’ll take good care of him.”
He pressed his thin lips to her forehead, adding another line to the list of things that connected

Trevor to his dad.

“Good,” he said. “You know, I always wanted a daughter.”
And the floodgates opened. Dammit. She fell in love with that old man in that moment. Eva

understood now how Meagan had formed such a strong bond with him—he didn’t give you any other
choice. He forced you to care and held you there until it was the only thing you wanted to do. Just like
Trev.

“Fuck, Dad. What the hell are you saying to her? I’ve never seen this woman cry before,” Trev said

from behind her. She felt his strong arms pull her from his father’s embrace and she instantly turned
and fell into his waiting arms, brushing her cheeks along his T-shirt to wipe away the tears that had
fallen.

“It’s okay, baby,” she said tilting her face up to look at him.
His brows narrowed in question, but she just rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him. It was a quick,

sweet kiss—over within a few heartbeats, but it was enough to let Trevor know the game plan. They
were pretending she was his—again.

***

Trevor opened the truck door and Eva hopped in. “Thanks for that,” he said before shutting the

door behind her.

Jogging around to the driver’s side, he slid in and started the engine.
“Hey, I owed you one,” she replied.
He looked at her, really looked at her. She was beautiful, and not just because she was a fucking

knockout—but because she cared for him enough to pretend. “Well, you made my dad one happy man
today.”

They had spent the entire day with his parents in the hospital. They ordered his dad’s favorite pizza

and sat around and told stories about when Trevor was a kid, and Eva even threw in a couple of
stories from back when they’d first met.

She’d let him rub her leg, kiss her neck, and hold her against him. She’d ad-libbed her own

affection—running her hands along the short hair at the nape of his neck, lacing her arm through his,
and crawling onto his lap on the sofa. They’d put on a pretty good act together. If Trevor didn’t know
any better he would have believed it himself.

“I love your dad. I wish I had met him a long time ago. He is funny as hell. And your mom—I may

like her better than my own mother.”

He pulled out onto the road and headed toward Eva’s motel. “Yeah, they’re pretty great,” he said

fondly. “I’m glad you got to meet my dad while he was my dad.” He cleared his throat. “While he
was having a good day.”

She looked at him, her expression slack, and smiled a sad smile. “Me too.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence. It was easy. But being around Eva was always easy. She

didn’t expect anything or need anything. She knew when to step up and when to back off. She was a
pretty damn good friend to have around, especially now.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay at my parent’s house with me?” he asked, hopeful. He would

kill to have her next to him tonight. He wanted to hold her—that’s it. He wanted to feel her small
body melt into his as he molded himself around her. But how the fuck was he supposed to tell her that
without sounding like a complete fucking pussy? If she was Meagan, he would break down and beg
her to stay with him while he rummaged through the hell that was hoarding the space in his mind. But
with Eva—he didn’t want her to see him vulnerable like that. Things were different with Eva. He
wanted to protect her from his heartache.

“I don’t know, Trev.” She hesitated. Their roles had returned to their pre-acting state. He could

keep it casual. He wouldn’t allow things to become awkward between them—even though it was
damn near unbearable not to touch her.

“No big deal, Red. Just wanted to offer,” he lied as he pulled up to the motel. “Think you can suffer

through another day of pretending to be with me? I’d really love for you to come back to the hospital
with me tomorrow,” he admitted, letting a tiny fragment of his vulnerability slip through the cracks,
but he didn’t give a shit at that moment. He just wanted to make sure she would be with him
tomorrow. He needed her.

“If you come bringing coffee and donuts, I will do pretty much anything you ask.”
He grinned and lifted his brows and she shook her head at him. “Within reason, Trev.”
“Hey, can’t blame a man for thinking it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes at him as she opened the door. His hand reached out and

grabbed onto hers before he had a moment to decide against it. She turned away from the door and her
eyes fell to their joined hands then flashed across his face. She smiled, and the guilt and pain that was
hidden in that smile tore at his heart, taking with it a layer that was already hanging on by a thread.

“Trev?” she asked, releasing his hand before she slid her foot back inside the cab of the truck and

shut the door. “Scratch the donuts. I’m in the mood for a home-cooked breakfast in the morning.”

He smiled and shifted the gear into drive, pulling out of the motel parking lot. Relief flooded him,

and the fact that he felt comfort in the simple knowledge of being in the close proximity of this woman
should have had him questioning every thought, every desire that was leaving the crevices of his
mind, and flashing to the forefront. But he wouldn’t. Not tonight. Tonight he just needed her near him.

“Oh, and Trev?”
Shifting his head to look at her, he cocked a brow. “Yeah?”

“You’re spooning me.”
Without answering, he smiled and looked back at the stretch of road before them.
Tonight, he would hold her.

Chapter Nine

Leaving the hospital the next day was a little hard for Eva, so she couldn’t imagine how Trevor

felt. She had lied to probably the sweetest man she had ever known. But that wasn’t even what
bothered her. She would lie one hundred times over again if it made him smile. What made her sad
was that she knew she would probably never see him again.

“I need something to drink. Something strong and hard, and preferably on the rocks with salt and an

extra shot of Patrón,” she said, leaning her head back against the headrest as Trevor pulled out onto
the road.

He laughed, turning the radio station. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice attempting to regain the

ease and contentment it usually carried. But it was forced.

She smiled at him then faced the window, staring out at the blurred landscape, wishing she could

somehow absorb his heartache. She wanted to wrap him in her arms and soak up every last ounce of
sorrow he carried and wring it out of him.

Trevor’s dad tunneled himself into her heart in two days’ time, chipping away a part for himself

that would never be replaced, making the sadness sting. But it hurt even more because it stung Trevor.
It was breaking him little by little. And for the first time, someone else’s pain was her own. Because
for the first time, her heart belonged to someone else. It belonged to Trevor.

“You’ve got that look, Red.” Trevor’s voice broke through her thoughts and she rolled away from

the window to face him.

“How do you know what look I had? You couldn’t even see me.”
Dropping his hand from the wheel, he reached over and grabbed her knee, giving it a gentle

squeeze. “Because I know you. You okay?” he asked, somehow knowing what had been raking
through her mind. At least some of it.

She nodded. “Are you?”
He glanced back at the road quickly then his eyes fell back to hers. Sad, sincere eyes held her gaze

and it felt as if he was burrowing into her soul. It formed a deep throb—a battered ache in her chest—
seeing the pain in his eyes.

“I am. Because you’re here with me.”

***

Eva was relieved when he pulled into a small hole-in-the-wall bar. She wasn’t in the mood for

large crowds and she hoped this was pretty low-key. But she was way off.

When they walked into the bar, it went back for as far as she could see. It was jam-packed with

people, and there wasn’t an open seat in the house that she could find.

“Trevor, let’s go somewhere else,” she suggested.
“What? Why? This place is great. I met the owner last year, he’s a good guy. He’ll set us up at a

table, and they’ve got live music on Tuesday nights.”

She got a little inkling that he needed the noise, the bodies, the intensity of the environment to

distract his mind. And she could appreciate that. So she nodded and followed him to the bar that ran
the entire length of the right side of the room.

She had planned on ordering a margarita, but 99.9 percent of her experience drinking margaritas at

a bar like this completely sucked. She didn’t know what it was, but they never fucking made them
right. “I’ll take Guinness draft—tall,” she said, raising her voice so he could hear her over the loud
music.

“You and Meg and your Guinness. Love you women,” he said, already cheering up a bit.
“I’m gonna go pee, I’ll be right back,” she said walking backward in the opposite direction.
“All right, I’ll wait here for you.”
She hurried to the restroom and cursed under her breath when she saw the line to the ladies’ room

extending out the damn door. Fuck it.

She pushed the men’s room door open with her shoulder and walked it.
“Yeah, I know, I’ve got a vagina. Keep your dick in your hands, I just need to pee and I’ll be out of

your territory,” she said to the two men pissing in the urinal when they looked at her like she was an
idiot.

Kicking the stall open with her foot, she cringed thinking about the number of nasty, hairy asses that

had sat on that toilet seat. Eva didn’t get squeamish, and she could get past pretty much anything. But
let’s face it, sometimes men were just fucking disgusting.

Reaching in her purse, she grabbed her hand sanitizer and squirted almost the complete contents of

the bottle onto the seat before wiping it off with toilet paper. She squatted over the seat—not taking
any chances.

“Thanks, boys,” she said into the mirror, washing her hands as the new set of guys at the urinal

looked confused as hell seeing a woman come out of the stall.

Walking out of the bathroom, Eva shoved her way back through the crowd of people that ranged

from barely twenty-one to old enough to be her grandparents. Country bars were good for a mixed
crowd.

Eva could see the bar up ahead, but she got pulled back by some ass-hat with grabby hands. “Get

the hell off,” she hissed, lowering her tank top that had ridden up a little on her stomach from the
swarm of bodies pressing against her.

“Aw, dance with me.”
“Aw,” she mocked. “Go to hell.” Then she pressed her palms to his chest and pushed him back, not

hard enough to knock him on his ass, but hard enough to send out a warning. God, she really needed
that drink now.

“Hey,” she said, coming up behind Trevor.
“Hey, beautiful. Here’s your beer”—he slid a tall glass in front of her then placed a shot of clear

liquid down next to it—“and a shot.” Lifting his own shot glass, he said, “Here’s to one hell of a
weekend. And the award for best actress goes to Eva Riley.”

She lifted the chilled shot glass to her mouth and rolled the edge along her bottom lip before tilting

her head back and tipping the smooth liquid down her throat. Trevor didn’t mean anything by his
words, as a matter of fact, he was just trying to lighten the mood. It was harmless. So why did she feel
like curling into the fetal position on the floor and listening to Alanis Morissette on repeat?

“Does that make you best supporting actor?” she asked, playing along. Hell, she had been playing

along this whole time—why not a little more?

“Nah,” he said, swinging his arm around her and leading her to an open table close to the dance

floor. “I’m not much of an actor.”

He could’ve fooled her.
Sitting down in the seat he pulled out for her, Eva set her beer and her purse down on the table.
“So what time does your flight leave tomorrow?” he asked, sitting down across from her. He was

back to the Trevor she had known for years. Her friend. Just like it used to be before this weekend
had to come along and mess with her head—and her heart. Problem was, she didn’t want it to be like
it was. She liked the side of Trevor that he only showed her when he was pretending. She liked the
side of herself that she was able to see when he was pretending she was his. She knew she had to tell
him, she just didn’t know how.

And as much as she didn’t want things to go back to the way they were between them, she was

afraid that if she told him, things would never be the same.

“Red?” he asked when she didn’t reply.
She blinked, pushing her sappy-sad-story thoughts to the back of her mind. “Sorry, what?”
“What time does your flight leave tomorrow?”
“One.”
His eyes shifted around the room like he was hunting prey—searching for someone. “Good, I’ll

take you out for breakfast before you head home.”

A tall blonde with boobs that were most definitely paid for in full walked by. Her low-rise jeans

were tight and distressed, and her tank top better constituted a bra. Trevor reached out and wound his
arm around her waist, pulling her back to the table and practically onto his lap.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he flirted, attempting to lay his charm on nice and thick. The blonde flushed and

swooned—Eva threw up a little in her mouth. This was nothing she hadn’t seen before. This was
Trevor being Trevor. But now she wanted to kick him in the balls, or slap blondie’s smile from her
face. She would happily do both.

“Get us another round of Patrón, will ya? And a Guinness draft.” He paused to shift his glance to

Eva, who hoped like hell her scowl was set in place. “You need another?” he asked.

Something inside her snapped as she watched the waitress run her perfectly manicured nails

through the top of his hair. What was he doing? If he was attempting to make her jealous, he failed. If
he was attempting to piss her off, he hit the nail on the head.

Scooting her chair back, she stood up. “I’m good, thanks,” she replied, then stormed off.
What had she been thinking? Dammit! He was Trevor. Her ladies’-man, slutty friend. She didn’t

know why she thought anything of him other than that. She knew better than to let herself slip. She
knew Trevor’s type inside and out—she knew herself. And she had known that if she let herself fall
for the side of Trevor she’d gotten a glimpse of, someone would get hurt. Now she knew who that
someone was. But it didn’t just hurt—it ached, like a permanent piece of her heart was now missing.

It was. Trevor had taken it.
The warm air smothered her as she pushed the door open and stepped outside into the parking lot.
What stung the most was that today, she had started to see the truth in their little lie. She had sat on

Trevor’s lap while his dad was asleep and his mom was reading a book. And she had just sat there
with him. There was no fake conversation streaming between the four of them for her to keep up on.
There was no need for the public display of affection at that given moment. But there she was, curled
up on his lap, her head tucked under his chin, her cheek resting on his chest as she listened to the

offbeat rhythm of his heart.

His arm had wrapped around her and his hand softly stroked her back. His free hand had laced

with hers, and his fingers tangled around hers while his thumb ran slow circles on the inside of her
wrist.

But what solidified the feeling, what tipped the scale from pretending to real, was when he turned

his head and ran his nose along the side of her neck that was exposed to him, and whispered, “Thank
you, baby. I’m so happy you’re here.” Then he’d pressed an openmouthed kiss to the skin beneath her
jaw, his lips lingering for a few heartbeats before he rested his chin back on top of her head.

His words were so soft that only she heard them. He didn’t say it to put on a show for his parents.

He said it because he meant it. He kissed her because he meant it. And he’d held her close to him . . .
because he meant it. At least, that’s what she’d thought.

“Red, what the fuck are you doing?” he questioned as he stepped up next to her.
She turned to look at him through her slitted eyelids and was surprised to see that he hadn’t dragged

the big-boobed blonde with him.

“Waiting for a cab.”
“What? Why?”
“Because, I’m ready to leave, Trevor. I’m tired. It’s been a long few days and I’m over it.”
His head tilted to the side as if he was trying to read her, trying to figure out what was going on in

her head. But he didn’t pry. He didn’t hound her for the answers to his unspoken questions. “Okaay.
Well, let me take you.”

She spun around and threw her hands out to her sides. “Dammit, Trevor. You just don’t get it! I

don’t want you to take me. I don’t want to be around you right now. Go take that blonde home. I’m
sure she would be thrilled with the honor. She was ready to jack you off under the fucking table, for
crying out loud.” She turned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What the . . . are you kidding me . . .” He scrubbed his hands over his face as he walked in a

circle around Eva. “Is that why you’re pissed? Fuck, Eva,” he said. Then without warning, he circled
his arms under her ass and threw her over his shoulder.

“Put me down.” She didn’t raise her voice, or shriek, or pout. But her words contained as much

anger as she could possibly muster up. “Now.”

“Sorry, Red. You’re being ridiculous. I’m driving you.” He opened the driver’s door to his truck

and tossed her inside then scooted in next to her. The engine roared to life as he turned the key. “Put
your seat belt on,” he demanded.

Latching the seat belt across her lap, she turned and faced the window. Okay, so now she was

pouting . . .

After about ten minutes of complete silence, Trevor pulled into the motel and parked his truck.

“Talk to me,” he said but it was almost desperate—a plea.

She unbuckled and shifted in her seat to face him. “What do you want, Trevor? Do you want me to

pretend that seeing that fucking blonde basically sprawled across your lap didn’t bother me? Do you
want me to pretend that it doesn’t drive a knife through my chest every time you flip the switch and go
back to being just my friend? Because that’s what I’ve been doing! I’ve been pretending this whole
fucking time, Trevor, and I’m done!”

“Pretending what?” he shouted back at her.
Shaking her head, she threw open the door and slammed it behind her.

***

Trevor hurried after Eva as she jogged up the flight of stairs that led to her motel room. “Eva,

wait!” he called out. But she didn’t stop or slow down.

He stepped off of the last step and ambled toward Eva as she fumbled around in her purse for her

key. “I was pretending too.”

Her hands stilled inside her purse and she lifted her eyes to him.
He took the last small step, closing the distance she had created between them. “Do you know how

hard it is for me to be near you and not touch you, or kiss you, or pull you against me?” he asked.

She inhaled a sharp breath.
“Every second that I was holding you, every kiss I pressed against your body, your lips, and every

word I said to you while we were pretending, was real. I didn’t know it was going to feel that way. I
didn’t realize I was going to feel that way”—he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek—“but I do.”

She shook her head infinitesimally and pulled the key card out of her purse and opened the door.

Pressing his palm against the door to prevent it from shutting on him, he followed Eva inside.

She dropped her purse on the desk near the door and turned on her heel, her eyes targeting him with

anger. “I don’t know what’s real anymore. The way I feel—the way I feel about you—” she paused,
looking to the floor before raising her gaze back to him. “Our lies are woven so tightly together. And
then there’s you—the big flirt, the sweet, overprotective, touch-feely friend—the Trevor I’ve known
for years. Then there’s the Trevor I got a glimpse of—the one who makes me feel like he sees me and
could never get enough. The one that makes me feel something I’ve never felt before. Something real.
And I can see the difference between the two—I just don’t know which one is the real Trevor when
I’m around.”

Taking the final stride between them, he stopped in front of her and grabbed on to her hips with

both hands, pulling her small body against him. “Then let me show you what’s real,” he whispered as
he leaned his face in close to hers.

Moving his hands to her hair, lacing his fingers through the curly tufts, he tilted her head back, and

kissed her.

She opened her mouth for him, inviting him in, and he accepted. His lips moved over hers, slow

and deliberate. He was going to show her what was real, what he felt, until there was no doubt in her
mind.

He walked toward the bed until the back of her knees hit the mattress, then he lowered her onto it.

He stood above her and peeled the shorts from her body, staring down at the thin lace that covered
her.

Dropping to the bed, he ran his mouth over the lace, breathing her in, swiping his tongue against her

opening, tasting her through the thin fabric.

There was not one part about the way he was feeling as he touched her that wasn’t sincere. The

way she felt as her body writhed beneath him was a feeling that he would never get enough of. He just
needed to prove to her how he felt, so he would never have to know what it felt like to want
something so fucking much and not being able to have it. Because he wanted her. All of her, every
part of her. He wanted her mouth, her body, her pain-in-the-ass attitude. And he wanted her heart.
And he wanted it all to himself—forever.

***

There was a small part of her that hesitated. A part of her that was afraid to venture into the pile

of feelings that she was having. But a bigger part of her was so consumed with the way Trevor’s
hands felt moving over her now-naked body that she didn’t care about her fear. Right now, she would
take Trevor any way he would give her.

She had peeled her shirt over her head as he stood to remove his own clothing and now she was

lying in front of him, experiencing a new side of Trevor. The side of him that was everything she
never wanted in a man. Possessive, hungry, consuming. He was showing her how he felt, giving
himself to her in a way she had never wanted from anyone else before. And as absolutely terrifying as
it was—she wanted it. She wanted all of it.

His hard chest pressed against her, his warm skin connecting with her own heated body, cascading

a ripple of electric heat through her veins. She’d never known a touch to feel like his. It was more
than just pleasure. It was more than just sexy. It was sensual, it was intimate—it was real.

“Touching you like this,” he said as he ran his large hand up the inside of her thigh, “is something I

have thought about doing to you since I first met you,” he admitted. “I just never thought it would feel
like this.”

His fingers brushed over her clit briefly before he continued moving them up her stomach, and she

shuddered when they left her sensitive and craving more.

Latching on to her collarbone, he sucked gently. “When did it become real?” she asked

breathlessly. She wasn’t sure if she was asking him or herself.

He lifted his head and smiled at her, pushing the stray strands of hair away from her face. His gray

eyes hardened over with need—a need that she easily reciprocated.

He laughed. “When I pulled your wet body onto mine in the hammock. You were nervous and

embarrassed.”

“I was not,” she lied.
“You were, baby. But I knew when you pressed your lips to mine, that I wasn’t kissing you for

anybody other than you. I wanted you to feel me, I wanted you to lose yourself against me. I was
kissing you because I wanted you. Because it was real.”

She closed her eyes as his mouth hovered over hers, a small sliver of cool air separating his lips

from touching hers. She lifted her hands and drew them down his naked back, reveling in the feel of
his muscles flexing beneath her fingertips. Moving over her, his hips nestled between her thighs, and
his hard cock easily sank into her—just barely, just enough to pull a moan from her chest at the
delicious way she stretched around him.

Then he lowered his hips, and filled her until she was taking all of him. A sharp gasp left her lungs

from the pleasure she felt having him covering her body with his, feeling him slowly moving inside
her.

His hand slid to her neck and he rubbed the path along her lips, down her jaw, and to her ear with

the pad of his thumb. “I’ve always loved you, Eva,” his said, looking into her eyes like they were a
magnet to his dark metal irises. “But now, I’m in love with you.”

His lips fell to hers as their bodies moved in sync with each other, passion and love weaving a

tight pattern that would shape their relationship together from here forward. Because they weren’t
pretending anymore. It was real—for both of them.

She was his.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

A big thank-you to everyone who read Feel the Rush and begged for more Eva. I love Eva, she was
so much fun to write and I’m so happy that you all loved her as much as I did.

Jesse Feldman, the best editor, whom I absolutely love working with—insert cheesiness here—I
can’t thank you enough! It’s been so great to work with you on these stories and to see them unfold
between the two of us into characters and stories that I love!

My agent, Jill Marsal, as always, thank you for your continued support and guidance!

I want to thank Kim Karr for bouncing ideas around with me. You are an amazing writer and I value
your opinion. And I’m so thankful to have sparked a friendship with you!

Denise Sprung, thank you for your honest feedback and your enthusiasm for my stories. I love chatting
with you and I always appreciate your help!

My ladies, who would have known my stories would create new friendships for me? I adore and
appreciate you more than you know. Thank you for reading, sharing, pimping, and encouraging!

And an enormous thank-you to my friends and family who continue to encourage and support me
while I chase this amazing dream.

Missed the first book in Kelsie Leverich’s New York Times bestselling Hard Feelings series? Read

on for an excerpt from

THE VALENTINE’S ARRANGEMENT

Available now from InterMix

Three more days and this hearts and flowers shit would be over. Three more days and the boxes of

chocolates filled with things that should definitely not be paired with chocolate would be cleared
from the shelves, the cheesy “Be Mine” balloons would deflate, and those damn stuffed gorillas,
holding giant hearts, singing “Wild Thing,” would be put to rest.

It was almost Valentine’s Day in Watertown, New York, and the typical achromatic atmosphere at

Fort Drum was replaced with shades of pinks and reds, complete with love banners and window
decorations filled with hearts and chubby babies holding arrows. It was Ronnie Clark’s personal
week of hell.

Needless to say, Ronnie was not a fan of the lovey-dovey mushy shit; in fact, that was putting it

graciously.

It was getting late, and Ronnie was listening to the soft tick of the second hand on her watch as she

softly pressed the needle dipped in black ink into the hip of some lovesick barracks brat who had
finally landed herself a private. You would think these girls would learn, right? Soldiers are lonely,
and yes, they look damn good in uniform, but the young, single ones are dangerous. They fall hard and
fast and pull you in with their puppy-love eyes and promises of forever. These girls know it too; they
are looking for it, and once they find it, it’s a ring on the finger, a judge-officiated ceremony, and
more often than not, it’s matching ink declaring their love for one another. Blah blah blah . . .

“All right, Kara, I’m almost done with this locket. Are you sure you want me to put Craig’s name

under it? Names are not fun to cover up, and I charge double to do it. I’m giving you your chance
now,” she said as she wiped the ink on Kara’s hip, smearing it across the Celtic locket. Branding was
not Ronnie’s thing, but in this town, she was lucky if she went an entire workweek without getting
stuck doing at least one.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She narrowed her eyes at Ronnie before she turned them to her eager new

husband, who was holding her hand.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ronnie mumbled under her breath. Oh, how she wished she could

just slap some sense into this girl. Sure, Craig was every shade of hot, and even Ronnie had an image
of him without his uniform on begging to be brought to the forefront of her mind, but he was not tattoo
worthy. No man was. No man was that damn permanent.

“Your six thirty sketch consult is here,” Harold said, popping his tiny-ass head into Ronnie’s room.
Ronnie slathered some ointment on top of the freshly branded flesh. “Tell him I will be there in a

few, I’m just finishing up this girl’s latest mistake.”

“Ronnie!” Harold admonished, but he knew good and well that Ronnie said and did what she

wanted and even he couldn’t stop her. She was too good an artist to let go anyway. She was the best
he had ever seen.

Ronnie lifted her head and raised her eyebrows at Harold, challenging him. He just shook his head

and walked away.

“All right, keep it clean, but don’t mess with it too much.” She covered the girl’s tattoo with a non-

stick bandage and taped it down before turning and cleaning up.

“Harold will check you out.” She stood from her chair and headed out of the room without as much

as looking back behind her.

Most would call her rude, but she liked to think of it more as “real.” She didn’t sugarcoat anything

and she wasn’t going to pretend to like you if she didn’t.

Ronnie sashayed to the front of the tattoo shop. She had one last client tonight and then she could

slip off her heels and go home. Sure, she was going home to nothing, and not because her fiancé was
still deployed and overseas, but because her fiancé was now an ex-fiancé and her solo living
arrangement was now irreversible. Apparently her fiancé had a problem keeping it in his pants while
he was gone, and his squad’s female medic just so happened to be the lucky one to help him with his
little, and she did mean little, dilemma. Okay, maybe she was being a smidge too hard on him . . . nah.

The shitty thing about it all, well, other than her fiancé sleeping around on her, was that she found

out from someone else. His best friend, who just so happened to be deployed with him, called and
told her what was going on. That was not a phone call that she wanted to get, let alone from someone
other than the piece-of-shit cheater himself. When she confronted her fiancé about it, he didn’t even
deny it, just acted like she should forget about it. He was halfway across the world, how could she
possibly think he could wait that long? Fucking prick.

“Kale Emerson?” Ronnie said, scanning the waiting room. There were only two people there: one

was Harold’s intern, who was waiting to do his nightly bitch work, and the other one was a fuckingly
handsome Captain America impersonator. He was tall, broad, and his well-defined arms were
bulging through the thin material of his shirt. His sandy-brown hair was cut short, barely enough on
top to run your hands through, and of course he had to have blue eyes that seemed to grab onto hers
with a force that held her captive. And for the first time in a long time, she felt vulnerable.

Keep reading for an excerpt from the second Hard Feelings novel, Reed and Meagan’s love story

FEEL THE RUSH

Available now from InterMix

Meagan loved summer nights. It was nine o’clock and only now starting to get dark. The sky was

still that dim blue, like it was holding its breath for daylight before the night smothered it. And the
Southern air was beautiful—just the right amount of warmth to make it perfect.

Meagan pulled her feet out of the open passenger-side window of Eva’s truck as they pulled into

their new apartment building in Columbus, Georgia, and sat back up so she could get a better look. It
was a small community, just eight apartment buildings forming a square surrounded by the parking lot.
It seemed almost cold, isolated. There was only a small section of grass extending from the buildings
to the sidewalk—other than that, it was empty, plain, and very unimpressive. But it was nighttime—
maybe it would look better during the day. Here’s for hoping.

Eva parked in a couple of parking spots. Luckily she owned an oversized monster of a truck, and it

was able to pull Meagan’s little Volkswagen Beetle on a trailer. It would have been complete hell
driving the entire nineteen hours in the car by herself, although having complete control of the music
would have been nice. If Meagan never had to listen to another country song, it would be too soon—
and she didn’t even mind country music, but nineteen hours of straight twang was torture.

Meagan hopped out of the truck to stretch her legs. She brought up her ankle to her butt to stretch

out her thighs, which had cramped up somewhere in North Carolina, and the pull she felt in her
muscles was delicious.

Eva walked around the front of the truck and stopped in front of Meagan. “So, what do you think?”
“It’s great.”
“Don’t lie to me. I can tell by the complete look of panic on your face that you think it sucks. Well,

don’t get your panties in a bunch, princess. The pictures on their website looked great.” That wasn’t
completely promising. “I’m meeting the landlord at his apartment to get our key since the office is
closed. I’ll be right back.”

“Um, Eva, that sounds a little sketchy,” she said, leaning against the side of the truck. “I’m going to

stay here and watch our stuff. If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m going to assume that you’ve been
offed by the landlord and I’m taking the truck and getting the hell out of here.”

Eva tossed Meagan the truck keys. “You wouldn’t come looking for me?”
“Hell no, this feels like the beginning to a cheap horror movie—it would be called Tenants. But I

will be the smart one that gets away in the end, you will be the stupid one that goes running to the
killer in the middle of the night looking for your damn apartment key.” She shook her head and
laughed as Eva looked completely amused. “It’s your funeral.”

“You’re such a bitch; I can’t believe you wouldn’t come save me. I’ll remember that!” she shouted

as she walked toward the apartment building in front of them.

Meagan smiled and then opened up the door to the truck and grabbed two very noisy crates from

the backseat. “Hopefully we will be inside soon so you guys can get out of there,” she said, peeking
in to look at her cats, who sounded like they were dying—they really hated those damn things.

Within a few minutes, Eva was jogging back to the truck with a couple of keys dangling from her

fingers. “Did the boogeyman come while I was gone?”

“Shut up. Which one’s ours?” she asked, handing Eva a litter box and a container of litter.
“This way.”
Meagan picked up the crates and followed Eva down the walkway in between the two buildings

that were in front of them. When they got to the back side of the buildings, it was like they were in a
completely different world. It was absolutely beautiful. It was set up like a courtyard, with a stone

fountain surrounded by a circular stone walkway placed in the center of the enormous grounds. The
lawn was beautiful, professionally landscaped to perfection. It was the middle of June, and flowers
were blooming everywhere, and there was a handful of surprisingly mature trees throughout. There
was a huge pool at the far side of the courtyard, complete with a diving board and a twirly slide—and
yes, the twirly slide got her the most excited. When she looked at the backs of the buildings, there
were small patios and decks that faced the courtyard.

“This is amazing, Eva.”
“No shit,” she murmured, slightly surprised as well. “This is even better than the website led on.

Now I’m dying to see the inside. We should be this one right over here.” She walked to the building
to the right of the fountain, stuck her key into the patio door of apartment 2C, and pushed it open.

Meagan was more than pleasantly surprised when she walked in. Actually, that was putting it

mildly. Going off the opinion she had from looking at the outside of the building, she was completely
prepared for molded carpet, broken cabinets, crusty bathrooms, and maybe even one of those chalk
outlines of a dead body on the kitchen floor.

Instead, she saw beautiful hardwood floors—okay, so they were probably laminate floors, but they

sure as hell were better than nasty carpet—stainless-steel appliances, beautiful mocha-colored
cabinets, and the bathrooms—there were three! This place made her old apartment look like a college
dorm room, which actually wasn’t too far off from the truth, to be honest. This apartment was clean
and spacious with a huge eat-in kitchen and a separate dining room. The bedrooms were large with
walk-in closets and each one had their own bathroom.

“So what do you think?” Eva asked, looking around the large, open living room.
“I’m thinking this is a hell of a lot better than my old apartment.”
“We’re splitting the rent, roomie. You can afford a big-girl apartment now.”
“Point taken. In that case, I’m glad I left all the planning to you. This is perfect.”
Eva headed toward the front door, which Meagan assumed led to the outside of the apartment

building. “I’m not gonna say, ‘I told you so’. . . well, yep . . . I am . . . ‘I told you so’. I’m gonna go
grab a couple boxes.”

Meagan rolled her eyes. “Okay, I will be out to help in a minute. I’m going to let Harry and

Weasley out and get their litter box set up real quick.”

“Okay,” Eva said before shutting the door behind her.
Meagan opened up the crate. You would have thought they got bit in the ass by the way they bolted

out. Meagan laughed. “Not too bad, huh?”

Meagan stepped back and looked around her new home. Sure, there was nothing filling it yet, and

there probably wouldn’t be anything for another couple of weeks until the movers got there, but oddly
enough it already felt like a place she could settle in to. She still had slight reservations about packing
up her entire life and moving, all within a matter of weeks, but just being here eased those up a little
bit. Moving without any plan was probably the most irresponsible thing she had ever done, but if she
wanted to change, if she wanted to find her forever, why not get a fresh start? She swept her eyes
around the empty apartment again. This was it—her fresh start.

“Hey, Meggy, grab the door for me, will ya?” she heard Eva holler from the living room as she

walked out of the laundry room.

Meagan hurried to Eva, who had her hands full of boxes stacked one on top of the other. That little

shit was strong. “Seriously, I’m about to drop. . . .”

The top box fell from her hands. Luckily the army was moving most of their stuff and all they had

packed with them were mostly clothes, but the sound of the box hitting the hard floor scared the crap
out of Harry and he bolted out the patio door.

“Shit!”
Meagan ran after him. This was great, they had been here a total of ten minutes and her cat was

already lost. Looking for a black cat at nighttime was difficult, add the fact that they were in a new
place and the cat had just been spooked to the equation, and Meagan knew it was going to be hard to
find him.

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she said over and over as she frantically searched the courtyard. As she

was coming up to the fountain she heard a deathly screech, one that could only be her cat, followed by
a bark that more resembled thunder.

Great.
There was a dog—no, this wasn’t a dog, it looked more like a bear—barking at one of the larger

trees in the courtyard. Meagan ran to the tree and sure enough, Harry was halfway up, hissing like a
trooper at the devil dog below.

“Dammit,” she said under her breath. “Go. Shoo. Get out of here. Get the hell out of here, Cujo.”
“Actually, his name’s Tiny,” a low Southern voice said from behind her, making her spine stiffen

and her pulse accelerate.

Kelsie Leverich is the author of the Hard Feelings novels, including The Valentine’s Arrangement

and Feel the Rush. She lives with her husband, two children, and their three pets. She loves stories
that can sweep you off your feet, make you fall in love, break your heart, and heal your soul.

Table of Contents

Also by Kelsie Leverich
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Acknowledgements
Special Excerpt from THE VALENTINE'S ARRANGEMENT
Special Excerpt from FEEL THE RUSH
About the Author

Document Outline

Also by Kelsie Leverich
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Acknowledgements
Special Excerpt from THE VALENTINE'S ARRANGEMENT
Special Excerpt from FEEL THE RUSH
About the Author

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