“He got a job at The Lodge,” Mom told them, practically bouncing up and down. “He’s the new pastry chef!”
“Wow! That’s great news, Dad.” Amy frowned at Toff, who Dad had released from his hug. “But what did you have to do with—”
“He gave the head chef a sample box of my pastries.” Dad clapped Toff on the shoulder. “I had an interview last week after she called me out of the blue.” He cocked an eyebrow at Toff. “At least, I thought it was out of the blue until fifteen minutes ago when she called to offer me the job and told me about my daughter’s boyfriend visiting her in person.”
Toff was blushing as red as she’d ever seen him. He glanced at her and shrugged, smiling.
“Hey!” Brayden jumped up from the couch, his eyes dancing with excitement. “Was that the box I gave you, Toff?”
Amy stood, her mind racing to connect the dots. She crossed the room, stopping inches from Toff, staring up at him with wide eyes. “You went to The Lodge? With a box of Dad’s pastries for the chef to taste?”
He nodded, glancing at her parents, who looked completely enraptured.
“That I gave him,” Brayden announced proudly. “When he called and said he needed to fix how he messed up with you.”
She spun to her brother. “When was that?”
“When you were in LA with Mom for your book thing.”
Heart pounding, Amy’s attention bounced between her brother and Toff. She swallowed, glancing down at Toff’s T-shirt.
Talk Darcy to Me.
Darcy.
Her heart shimmied and spun.
Darcy…racing off to force Wickham to marry Lydia…
…and not telling anyone he’d done it.
She put a hand on her chest, staring up at Toff. “You…you…pulled a Darcy.”
He bit the corner of his lip, frowning. “I did?”
She laughed. “Yes, you idiot. Omigod!” She launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck. He stumbled, then wrapped her in a hug, laughing against her hair.
“Close your eyes, Mom,” Brayden said ominously, “they’re going to kiss.”
Mom laughed, and so did Dad. Amy realized she was starting to shake. Starting to cry. She didn’t care. “We need to, um, go talk,” she said, releasing her grip on Toff’s neck and dragging him from the room.
“Be back in an hour!” Dad called after them. “I’m whipping up a special dessert, just for the Cupcake Kid.”
“I’m coming with you!” Brayden yelled, chasing after them.
“Sorry, Bray. Not this time.” Amy slammed the front door in his face.
Once outside, she ran for Toff’s van, clutching his hand.
“Where are we going?” he asked, opening the passenger door.
“Somewhere no one will bother us.” She hopped in, pulled him toward her, and kissed him.
He groaned against her mouth, then dragged his lips from hers. “I can do that.”
Five minutes later, he’d driven down the hill and pulled into a dark, abandoned parking lot full of weeds. “No one will bother us here.”
“Good. Come on, Darcy.”
Twenty seconds later, after closing the curtains on the van’s windows, since it was still light outside, they were a half-naked tangle of arms and legs, kissing each other fiercely. Amy tugged at the waistband of Toff’s shorts—
A sharp rap on the back window startled them apart. Amy sat up and peeked through the curtains.
“Oh no,” she breathed. “It’s the sheriff.”
Toff struggled to sit up, but she pushed him back down. “Don’t worry, babe,” she said. “I’ve got this.”
“You sure, Bonnie?” Toff asked, his mouth curving in a proud grin.
“Oh yeah. Don’t freak out, okay? It’s all cool. Just pretend you’re my boyfriend and he’ll skedaddle right out of here.”
Toff was still laughing when Amy tugged on his Darcy shirt and cracked open the sliding door, peeking out.
“Yo, Officer,” Toff called, waving. “It’s nap time.”
Officer Hernandez frowned. “You two again.” He cocked an eyebrow at Amy. “Sneaking in some quality couple time, I see.”
Amy stifled a giggle. “Yeah. We’re, um, celebrating.”
The sheriff crossed his arms over his chest. “Technically you’re trespassing. This is a private lot.” He pinned her with his interrogating gaze. “Humor me. Tell me what you’re celebrating.”
Amy glanced over her shoulder at Toff, who gave her an encouraging thumbs-up.
“My dad got a new job, and, um, it’s our two-week anniversary.” She flashed Toff a grin. “Officially. Unofficially, it’s almost eight weeks.”
The sheriff sighed, shaking his head. Did his lips quirk up?
“It’s your lucky day,” he said. “Today’s my twenty-fifth anniversary, which I’m celebrating with my wife as soon as I’m done with you two and off the clock.” He peered over Amy’s shoulder at Toff. “I’m cutting you another break, Nichols.”
Officer Hernandez surprised Amy by flashing her a quick grin. “I’m cutting you two breaks. No ticket, and I won’t tweet that I just busted hashtag BonnieandClyde in action.”
“Wh-what?” Amy gaped at him, stunned.
“My daughter’s a fan.” He shook his head. “I’m getting too old for this job. All I’ve heard about this summer is books, books, books.” He rolled his eyes. “And how cute Bonnie and Clyde are.”
He stepped back, hand on the door. “You two need to skedaddle,” he said.
“Yes, sir!” Toff piped up as the door slammed shut.
Amy turned back to Toff, collapsing on top of him, shaking with laughter. He grabbed her hips, moving her right where he wanted her.
“We have to skedaddle,” she said as Toff started to tug off her shirt. “Plus my dad’s making dessert.”
“You heard him, babe. It’s his anniversary. He’s not coming back to check on us.” Her shirt came off. “And your dad said dessert would be ready in an hour. We’ve only been gone about fifteen minutes.”
He gave her a ridiculous, over-the-top alpha leer, making her laugh, then swallowing her laugh with a kiss.
A sweet, hot, fade-to-black kiss.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Some books take a cadre of magicians to transform them into what they are meant to be, and this was one of those books. I am tremendously grateful for the magicians who brought this book to fruition. I’ve wanted to tell Toff and Amy’s story ever since I wrote The Replacement Crush, in which Toff stole every scene he was in, and Amy advocated for true love, secretly crushing on Toff.
First, thank you to Entangled Publishing, a fiercely independent publisher of HEAs and HFNs. I’m thrilled to be part of your family. This book would not exist without Liz Pelletier, who read multiple versions of this story, pushing me to dig deeper; Lydia Sharp, whose brilliant ability to separate the wheat from the chaff found the essence of this book; and Heather Howland, editorial goddess who can spin straw into gold. Heather, six years ago you pulled my first book from the slush pile. It was a joy to work on my sixth book with you.
Thank you to everyone else at Entangled, including Stacy Abrams, whose eagle eye always catches things I miss, and the dedicated marketing and production teams who give 110 percent and worked extra hard on this one. Hugs to Heather Riccio for juggling a million plates and making it look easy. Tremendous thanks to Elizabeth Turner Stokes for the gorgeous cover.
Much appreciation to all the professionals and friends who contributed their expertise: Lindsey Steinriede, professional surfer; author Claire Petri Martin for in
troducing me to Lindsey; the California beach lifeguards and EMTs who answered questions and let me check out their gear and cool trucks; Jeremy Howland for additional injury and recovery expertise; author Robin Bielman for reading my first draft and providing great feedback; and my dear friend, “the fabulous Dr. D.” for medical expertise.
Nicole Resciniti, agent extraordinaire—I heart you. Full stop.
I have so many wonderful writer friends and wish I could list you all, but that would be a novella. For this book, a special tribe of author peeps saved my sanity: David Slayton, steady rock, always ready with a hug and a lemon drop martini, I treasure your friendship. Jenna Lincoln, cheerleader, neighbor, and naughty texter who always sees the wineglass half full, I heart you. Amalie Howard, even naughtier texter, tear-catcher, fantastic advice-giver, you are a gift.
To my family. It’s been another tough year, but we’ve made it. Without your love and support, I never would have seen my writing dreams come true. Erik, my rock and my Puck, thank you for always being there, always making me laugh, and being the reason I write about love. Ethan…my one and only treasured child…you’re ready to rock the world. Our talks about pursuing a creative life fuel my soul and make me so proud to be your mom. Carpe diem, sweetheart, every damn day. Mom, I believe in the butterflies and the perfume and know that love goes on, long after we join the stars. I love you.
Finally, dear readers, I hope you never give up on your dreams. I hope you find your swagger. I hope you find your HFNs and HEAs with partners who love and respect you. Thank you for your support. I write for you, and I love hearing from you.
About the Author
Award-winning YA author Lisa Brown Roberts still hasn’t recovered from the teenage traumas of tweezing off both eyebrows or that time she crashed her car into a tree while trying impress a guy. Is it any wonder she loves writing romantic comedies for teens? She lives in Colorado with her family and loves to hear from readers. Find Lisa online:
lisabrownroberts.com
Twitter.com/LBrownRoberts
Instagram.com/LisaBrownRoberts
Facebook.com/authorLisaBrownRoberts
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