Love Me Like You Do: Books That Keep You In Bed

by Fields, MJ

  There’s a lot of my home city and the stomping grounds my family grew up around in this book. Central Boxing in downtown Phoenix was my muse, and manager Tom Garcia is the warmest and kindest. Thank you, Tom, for letting my crew come in and create in your ring. As much as Trevor is the star of the cover, Central Boxing is the co-star. There is magic in that building, and I hope I captured a little bit of it in this book.

  To my beta readers—Shelley, Ashley, Bianca, Jenn and TeriLyn—I don’t know if I could have gone 10 rounds without you guys! (See what I did there?) Tina Scott and BilliJoy Carson of Editing Addict, I definitely needed you in my corner. I guess that makes you my ring girl, Autumn…or maybe you’re my manager. I think maybe you and Wordsmith Publicity are my Michael Buffer. Thank you for helping me get this baby seen, and for being just as excited as I am to see it fly.

  Kerie Shea Trindle Byrne, you are my ambassador of legal eagle-ness. Thank you for playing out my scenarios and answering my random messages as deadline loomed. I love you, friend.

  I saved my boys for last, but not because they played a small part. I always have a hard time putting into words what they do for me, and it requires thought and a paragraph that stands out. I wouldn’t be doing any of this “living my dream” stuff if it weren’t for you, Tim. And Carter, you make the little things possible. You are forever my joy and the fuel in my engine.

  Engine…

  Hmmmm…

  I think maybe a racing book is in my future…

  About the Author

  Ginger Scott is an Amazon-bestselling as well as Rita and Goodreads Choice Award-nominated author from Peoria, Arizona. She is the author of several young and new adult romances, including bestsellers Cry Baby, The Hard Count, A Boy Like You, This Is Falling and Wild Reckless.

  A sucker for a good romance, Ginger's other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).

  Also By Ginger Scott

  The Waiting Series

  Waiting on the Sidelines

  Going Long

  The Hail Mary

  Like Us Duet

  A Boy Like You

  A Girl Like Me

  The Falling Series

  This Is Falling

  You And Everything After

  The Girl I Was Before

  In Your Dreams

  The Harper Boys

  Wild Reckless

  Wicked Restless

  Standalone Reads

  Cowboy Villain Damsel Duel

  Drummer Girl

  Bred

  Cry Baby

  The Hard Count

  Memphis

  Hold My Breath

  Blindness

  How We Deal With Gravity

  Writing as Eliot Scott

  (Books co-authored with Anne Eliot)

  The Feud Series:

  The Wallace Girl & The Sinclair Heir

  The imPERFECT Guy

  Leddy Harper

  For Mady…my little crustacean

  Prologue

  Mady

  “Guys, I think I’ve found the perfect assistant.” I set the résumé on the table between my three best friends, not bothering to offer my usual greeting. Hugs could come later—I had big news.

  “I didn’t know you were looking for one,” Brooke said as she picked up the papers. She quickly scanned over the top sheet and then passed them to Nellie on her right. “What do you need an assistant for anyway?”

  The worst part about having an unconventional job was that no one truly understood what it was that I did. Granted, they knew the basics—I got paid to post pictures and videos to my social media accounts—but they couldn’t seem to grasp the specifics.

  “Do none of you listen when I speak?” I glanced around the table, meeting their gazes. Well, all but Nellie’s, because she was currently reading the résumé of the most perfect assistant imaginable. “I’m collaborating with a bathing-suit designer, so I need someone to help me manage everything. I told you guys all about this a little over a month ago when the lady contacted me about teaming up with her.”

  Julie took the papers from Nellie and asked, “Yeah, but I thought you already had someone doing that for you?”

  “Who? My sister?” I waved her off. “She helps me schedule my posts and answer DMs. I need someone who knows what they’re doing, someone who has experience with more than just posting pictures. And I finally found her!”

  I yanked the pages from Julie’s grip and skimmed the words, not reading a single one of them. I still couldn’t believe I’d managed to find someone this perfect. I was convinced I’d have to spend months interviewing and going through countless dead ends before finding someone as great as this.

  “So what makes this person so wonderfully qualified?” Brooke asked, even though she would’ve been able to answer her own question had she actually read the résumé.

  “Well, for starters, Kelly—that’s her name,” I said while tapping on the paper in front of me, “used to own her own business. Which means she’s familiar with the demands of being a one-woman operation.”

  “What business did she own?”

  I held Brooke’s stare, hoping she could read my mind as I thought, yet again, that she’d know this information if she had simply read the application rather than quickly glance at it as if it were nothing more than a coloring page from one of her students. Then again, she’d probably take a closer look at her students’ scribbles. “She was an assistant recruiter…whatever that means.”

  “You don’t even know what she used to do, yet you believe she’s qualified to help you manage your business?” Nellie, always the one to question everything, felt the need to poke holes in my theory.

  Well, Penelope…not this time.

  “It’s right there in the title—assistant recruiter. She applied to be my assistant. Need I say more?” I stuffed the résumé into my bag and leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest as if I’d just proven a point she couldn’t negate.

  Nellie looked right at me, both elbows on the table and her wine glass in one hand—her mother would have a heart attack at the complete lack of etiquette she displayed right now. “Have you already hired this Kelly person?”

  “Interviewing her tomorrow. I’m meeting her at Fiona’s for lunch.”

  “Oh, that’s fancy.” Julie seemed mildly impressed.

  “Well, I certainly don’t want to take her to a bar. That might give her the wrong impression of what kind of assistant I’m looking for. If I wanted someone who partied more than they actually worked, I’d just keep my sister around.”

  “Are you firing Gia?”

  I regarded Julie for a moment, wondering why the thought of my sister losing her “job” had shocked her so much. “No, she’ll still do what she does for me. I just need someone who can handle more of the technical stuff. You know? Like my calendar and booking photoshoots for me. Things like that. This collab is a really big deal. If everything goes right, I should be getting more offers like it.”

  “Sounds awesome. I’m really excited for you.” Julie’s smile was genuine, and even though she didn’t fully grasp what I did for a living, I never doubted her support.

  “We’re all really happy for you, Mady. You’ll have to let us know how the interview goes.”

  “Thank you, guys. That really means a lot.” And it did. Just knowing that they had my back no matter what meant the absolute world to me. “Don’t worry…I’ll definitely let you all know how it goes. Although I think it’s safe to say it’ll be amazing. I have such a good feeling about this.”

  Nellie winked at me and took a sip of her wine. “Make sure to take a picture of Kelly for us. I’m quite interested to see what she looks like.
”

  Her comment struck me as odd, but I brushed it off. With these girls, “odd” was normal. It was part of the reason I loved them so much—plus, it made me feel like I truly fit in somewhere. Weirdness and all, they were my tribe.

  One

  Mady

  I stared at the open menu to keep from watching the door. Obviously, I didn’t want to appear too eager. Even though I already knew I wanted to hire Kelly, I didn’t want her to know that. I still wanted her to go through the interview process without giving away the outcome.

  The problem was…I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never interviewed anyone before. When my sister started helping me with my pictures and posts, it was more or less implied. In fact, I don’t even recall asking her to do any of it. She’d just taken it upon herself one day to give me a hand and then never stopped. So this entire experience of employing someone was new to me. Luckily, I’d gotten some advice from the girls last night—Julie, Brooke, and Nellie had helped me write a list of questions and topics to discuss. I would’ve been lost without them.

  Someone stepped up to the table, snapping me out of my panic-ridden thoughts.

  At first, I smiled, expecting it to be Kelly. Then I froze when I realized that not only was it not Kelly, but it was a guy—and not the waiter, either. He was large, and in my opinion, one leather vest shy of being Jax Teller’s wingman.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, but I’m waiting for someone,” I said before he could take the seat in front of me. It was not unusual for men to approach me while I was out, especially if I was alone. But I had to admit, I couldn’t remember ever being approached by a guy who looked like he did. A small part of me was scared I’d get robbed.

  That thought almost made me laugh, considering we were in a fancy restaurant.

  He glanced around the nearly empty room and then met my gaze. And for a moment, I got lost in the shade of sage that stared back at me. While the rest of him looked like he’d just walked out of a biker bar, angry at the world, his eyes held such intense emotion that I struggled to process it.

  “My apologies. I thought I was on time, but I must be early.” His voice was so deep, so rugged, that I had to take a second to make sure we hadn’t just experienced an earthquake. “Should I wait at the front until you’re ready?”

  I was confused—which wasn’t that unusual. My friends constantly teased me for being the blonde in the group. Except there wasn’t a blond strand in my dark hair, thanks to my Italian heritage. But that was beside the point. I was lost as to what this man was talking about.

  “I think you might have me confused with someone else.”

  Again, he searched the room with his eyes, still standing with his hand on the back of the chair in front of me. “Are you not Mady Russo?”

  I almost said no, until I realized that, yes, my name was, in fact, Mady Russo. Maybe I had a stalker? I knew my stardom was bound to bring forth new opportunities, some of which wouldn’t be viewed as positive, though this was unexpected.

  Without waiting for my response, he added, “I’m Griffin Kelly. I’m supposed to be meeting you here for an interview. I applied for the assistant position you posted online.”

  My jaw dropped, and no matter how hard I fought to rein in my thoughts and close my mouth, I couldn’t. Instead, I shook my head and hoped that would clear the surprise I felt dripping from my face. “Oh, wow. I’m really sorry about that. Here…have a seat.”

  The smile that curled his lips was slight but beautiful. Maybe it was because he didn’t look like the type of person who smiled very often. Whatever it was, it nearly took my breath away. It was difficult to do anything other than admire him from across the table.

  His light-colored hair was cut short, almost buzzed, though his beard wasn’t as tidy. Not shaggy like so many men wore these days, but not neatly groomed, either. I’d never been a fan of facial hair until Griffin Kelly smiled at me.

  Oh, God…I could tell I was about to be in trouble.

  I checked my glass to make sure it was actually water and not tasteless vodka. This man was not my type at all, in any way, shape, or form, which meant the only reason for having those kinds of thoughts would be strong liquor. The only problem was…there was only water in my glass.

  “This whole time, I thought you were a woman named Kelly.” I laughed, hoping he hadn’t taken my comment as an insult. “While waiting for you, I kept wondering if you were more of a Kelly Kapowski or Kelly Taylor. Not once did I think Kelly Pavlik.”

  “I have no idea who any of those people are.”

  That shocked me more than discovering my interview was with a guy instead of a woman. If he’d actually been a woman, I was sure he would’ve understood my Kelly references. “Saved by the Bell? Beverly Hills 90210?”

  Either he smiled again, or the one from earlier still lingered on his lips. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t recognize the names at first. But who’s the last one?”

  “Kelly Pavlik? He was a boxer.” Suddenly feeling dumb, I shrugged and added, “My dad’s big into boxing—watching it, I mean. When I was little, I used to think he actually knew the guys he’d watch on TV; he always talked about them like they were friends or something.”

  Wow, Mady…way to make things awkward.

  Thankfully, he didn’t carry on with that conversation, though it made me wonder if he was just as uncomfortable as I was. If so, he didn’t show it. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, “Did I not put my name correctly on the résumé?”

  Desperate for any reason to look away, I grabbed the stapled papers from my purse and studied the header. “You put Kelly Griffin,” I said confidently, pointing to the top of the page.

  Soft yet rumbling laughter escaped him, but there didn’t seem to be much of a smile present on his lips. Oh, damn…those lips. They weren’t full or flat, somewhere in between, and I suddenly found myself wondering if they were as soft as they looked. Then I started to wonder what his beard would feel like against my face.

  Shit. Maybe I would need something stronger than water if I wanted to make it through this interview.

  “It’s last name, comma, first name. Kelly, comma, Griffin.”

  “Oh! I see now. For some reason, I thought that was a typo.” It wasn’t until those words slipped out of my mouth that I realized just how unintelligent I sounded. Things just got jumbled sometimes. But regardless if I hired him or not, the last thing I wanted to do was make this man believe I was an idiot.

  I fought the urge to lift the papers and hide behind them. Hell, I even contemplated standing the menu up to disappear behind it like I’d done with manila folders in school when taking tests. And if I could’ve gotten away with it, I would’ve slipped beneath the table and crawled to the exit, just to keep from embarrassing myself even more.

  But the laughter that came from across the table kept me planted in my seat, as well as the papers and menu away from my face. There was something magical about hearing the melody of amusement come from a man his size—who looked like he could snap an oak tree like a twig with his bare hands. It made me want to sit and listen to it all day.

  Just then, the waiter stopped by our table to take Griffin’s drink order, and while he was there, I asked for a glass of wine. My hope was that a bit of spiked grape juice would calm my nerves. Thankfully, those few seconds had offered me a much-needed reprieve from my humiliation and sudden-rush of lust.

  “So, Griffin…”

  “Please, call me Finn. I actually hate my whole name.”

  That made my cheeks burn, like I’d smiled too much or something, even though I hadn’t as far as I was aware. Feeling somewhat self-conscious, I reached for my purse to grab my small notebook, relying on my hair to shield my face long enough for the fire in my cheeks to dissipate.

  “Okay…Finn.” I flipped open my notebook to find the list of questions the girls had written down for me. Maybe referring to that would help redirect this interview. “You said you’ve owned your own business. Tell me
a little more about that.”

  He unfolded his napkin and draped it over his lap, which took me by surprise. He’d been at the table for all of five minutes, and I could already tell by the manners he’d displayed that I was wrong for judging this book by the cover. Although, I’d need more than a few quiet laughs, a couple barely there smiles, and a show of manners to believe he wasn’t an ex-con.

  If I had a pen, I would’ve made myself a note to find out how to run a background check.

  “For the last three years, I’ve owned and operated a recruiting service for clerical staff.”

  “And what all did that entail?”

  He studied me for a moment, squinting the tiniest bit as he took me in. “Well, when a company—or person—needs an assistant, I find them one. Sometimes they’re temp jobs, and other times, they’re permanent positions.”

  “Why did you stop doing that?”

  Confusion seemed to draw his brows closer together. “I didn’t. I still run it.”

  “Oh…” I prayed he didn’t notice the heat in my cheeks.

  One would think I’d be used to this by now—being called out for having the wrong information. But I wasn’t, and I doubted I ever would be. There was a good chance that his application explained all this, and the last thing I wanted to do was make him question if I’d actually read it, so I quickly moved on while acting unfazed.