by Emma Hart
“It’ll be worth it.”
I smiled, looking into her eyes. “Just admit it, Chlo. You’re hopelessly in love with me, and there’s no chance in hell that you’re going to walk away from giving us a chance.”
“I’ll give you the first one,” she said softly. “I am pretty screwed where my emotions are concerned regarding you.”
“That’s the nicest way anyone has ever told me they love me. You should write romance.”
Her lips twitched, and her eyes twinkled for a moment before she tilted her head to the side and let out a giggle. “I’m not entirely sure I would be good at that. I mean, it took me twenty-seven years to get to this point.”
“On the plus side, you are a pro at being in love. That’s some practice you’ve had.”
She pursed her lips. “You’re not exactly a love virgin yourself, are you? You’ve been in love with me for at least ten years.”
“Who told you—” I stopped. “Never mind. I think I can probably guess it was Peyton.”
She nodded. “She has a big mouth. I guess she got the mouth and you got the ego.”
“Well, could you imagine if she had both? She’d be a nightmare.”
“As opposed to the delight she currently is.” Chloe snorted. “Can you let me up now?”
“No.” I flexed my fingers between hers. “Not until you give me what I want.”
“Well,” she said, “I can’t give you a blow job if I’m up here and your cock is down there.”
Hmm. Tempting.
“As great as that sounds, that’s not what I mean.” I dipped my head and kissed just beneath her ear. She drew in a short, sharp breath, and I knew.
This was how to break her down.
To admit what she already knew.
That despite all her fighting, she was mine. There were no two ways about it. She’d been mine for years.
At least her heart had been mine, just like it was right now.
“Admit it,” I murmured against her skin. “You’re mine, Chloe. You know it. You’re fighting the inevitable.” I kissed along her jaw until my lips reached the corner of her mouth. “Just give in.”
“Never,” she whispered.
“Fine, awkward one,” I said, kissing her jaw again. “But I’m yours. Me. My heart. And all my lost keys.”
She groaned. “And that’s a lot of keys.”
“At least ten in the last two years. And now…” I looked her in the eye. “You get to witness me lose them forever. Aren’t you lucky?”
“We have different meanings for the word lucky,” she replied. “Do you really think we can make this work?”
“I know we can,” I said honestly. “Is it gonna be easy? No. Are we gonna fight? Hopefully. The more we fight, the more make-up sex we get.”
“That is promising,” she mused.
“More than anything, I want to make it work. And I know you do, too, or you wouldn’t even be here entertaining it right now.” I released her hand and brushed hair from her face. “Am I perfect? No. Am I gonna piss you off? Sure. But, Chlo? That’s no different to the relationship we have right now. The only difference is that now, we know we love each other. We didn’t have that before.”
“If you’re trying to tell me that you losing your keys is going to turn into something cute instead of insufferably annoying, you’re very wrong,” she warned me.
“Is there not even a hint of a chance with that?”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“I’m okay with you shouting at me for that.”
“I’d be more okay if you tried to not lose them in the first place.”
I grinned. “I can work on that,” I said.
She looked at me, lips pursed, but I knew she was agreeing. I could see it in her eyes. “I guess I can work on my temper.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me the chance to—shock horror—explain myself?” I gasped, pressing my hand to my chest.
She hit me. “You’re not starting this well, Dom.”
“Starting? Does that mean I win? I’ve worn you down?”
“Actually, I think I just want you to shut up about it,” she teased, half-grinning. “That, and I have a teenage girl inside throwing a party,” she added.
I couldn’t help the grin that stretched across my face. “So, you’re agreeing to be my girlfriend?”
“I’ll agree officially when you’ve made me pancakes.”
“Is that because you can’t make them?”
“Hey,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Food matters. I like pancakes. You can make pancakes. I’m not against letting food make the final choice for me.”
“That sounds a hell of a lot like something I’d say. Maybe you really are the perfect girl for me.”
“Stop being nice. You’re scaring me.”
I laughed and brushed my lips over hers. “I promise to revert to annoying you in the morning.”
“Thank you. I think keeping our relationship just as it is might be the success to this after all.”
“I completely agree,” I murmured, lowering my lips to hers.
She wrapped her free arm around my neck and kissed me back, flicking her tongue against the seam of my lips. I let go of her hand, and that arm joined her other, pulling me right down against her so I couldn’t escape.
Pancakes my ass.
She was mine, and she knew it.
And my God, we were going to make this work.
No matter what.
Epilogue – Chloe
It was crazy how fast things changed.
Like milk going bad, or flowers dying, or panties getting ripped in the “wash.”
Dom could claim it was the machine, but I clearly heard a rip.
And he still owed me ice-cream.
One Year Later
“Why would you put the sofa there? You can’t see the TV properly.”
I put my hands on my hips and stared at Dom. “Well, where should it go?”
He pointed with a handful of popcorn. “Under the window.”
“We don’t have blinds yet, and that’s where the sun will come in. Have you considered that we might not be able to see anything?”
“Move the TV, then.”
“We can’t. That’s the only spot it can go.”
He sighed, shoving his handful of popcorn into his mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you, Chlo.”
“You can put the popcorn down and help me move this stuff, for a start.” I waved a hand at the boxes that were piled on top of the coffee table.
“But what about the sofa?”
“We’ll buy a new sofa!” I ran my fingers through my hair. “God, this is old anyway.”
“I told you we should have brought my sofa.”
“You’re so lucky the kitchen knives are packed!” I growled at him.
He grinned. “Living together is going to be so fun.”
“Hmm.” I picked up a box and put it on the floor, then grabbed another. “Why is a bathroom box in here?”
“I don’t know. Ask Elliott. He’s the one who put the boxes there.”
“Why? Because you keep eating?”
“I have to eat the popcorn before Peyton gets it.”
I sighed. “We did this last week. You know she’s craving popcorn, and if she gets here and there’s none left, I’m letting you take the full blame for it. You can take those pregnancy hormones by yourself, buddy.”
He stilled, hand in the bag. “You know what? After how she burst into tears when Jake ate a handful of hers, I think I’ll save her this.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” I rolled my eyes. “Can you help me now?”
He gave me an overexaggerated sigh and lifted up the bathroom box. “Is this for our bathroom or the main one?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “You’ll have to look inside.”
“Why didn’t you mark it?”
“Because it’s your handwriting on the box.” I grinned. “This one’s on you, Dom.”
“Fuck it.”
A tiny gasp came from the doorway. “Uncle Dom saided a bad word!”
His eyes widened, and he turned to Briony. “Sssh. You can’t tell anyone that!”
“She doesn’t need to. I heard it,” Peyton said in a dry tone, coming up behind her and smoothing her hair. “Dom…”
“I didn’t know she was there,” he said quickly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“That’s because you didn’t close the front door.” She shimmied past Briony. “Daddy has your tablet,” she said to her.
She quickly ran off to where Elliott was presumably unloading a handful of boxes from the back of the truck.
“How are you feeling?” I asked Peyton.
“Great,” she said with a giant, fake smile. “I threw up my breakfast and can’t fit in my pants anymore. I’m supposed to be past the vomit stage!”
“I’ll put this in the main bathroom for now,” Dom said, lugging the box out of the room.
I rolled my eyes. “He’s an ass. If it helps, I stopped him eating all the popcorn for you.”
She cast her glance toward the sofa where he’d left the bag. “Bet he only left a little.”
Elliott came in with a box in hand, followed by Jake. “This is the last of the kitchen stuff.”
“Ugh, thank you. Are the knives in there?” I asked.
“I can tell moving day is going well,” Jake said dryly. “This is the showery-stuff for Mellie’s bride party or whatever it is. Where do you want this?”
“Ummm.” Shit. I’d forgotten I’d had all that in my spare room. “Can you put it in the garage for now? All the boxes are clearly marked, so…”
“All the boxes? How much stuff do you need for a party? Isn’t the wedding enough?”
“Well, there are balloons, and plates, and centerpieces, and presents,” I started.
“And games, and bachelorette things, and more gifts, and banners,” Peyton continued.
“I heard presents.” Mellie bounced into the room, almost pushing Jake out of the way. Her eyes immediately zoned in on the Sharpie-scribbled “Mellie’s Bridal Shower” on the side of the box. “Oooh! Are my presents in there?”
“Quick, run!” Peyton yelled around a mouthful of popcorn.
Jake turned and ran through the hall, swerving in just enough time to avoid Briony. Who had no chance of seeing a tall, muscular man coming toward her because she was too engrossed in YouTube.
With the skill only a young child could have, she wandered over to the sofa and climbed up next to Peyton. She stuck her hand out, and Peyton tilted the bag so she could reach for it.
Just in time for Dom to walk in.
“Peyt. Seriously? Why will you share with her but not anyone else?” He held out his hands.
With a completely serious face, Peyton looked up and said, “I like her.”
“Oh, well, that covers it,” he muttered, moving the last box off the coffee table. “Where am I putting the table?”
“Outside,” I said. “Where do you think it’s going?”
“This is going to be a long day.”
Elliott’s laughter announced his return to the room. He smacked Dom on the shoulder, chuckled again, and headed outside.
“I think I regret this,” Dom said.
“If you don’t already,” I replied, grabbing the end of the coffee table to pull it across the carpet. “You will when I unpack the knives.”
***
I closed the door to the dishwasher and leaned against the counter. The laughter coming from my living room made me happy. The boxes everywhere? Not so much.
But they would disappear in time. I knew that. Especially if I took control of the unpacking, because God only knew nothing would ever get done if Dom was in charge.
A hard, familiar body pressed against my back, and Dom’s strong arms wrapped around my shoulders as he kissed the side of my neck. “Okay?”
I nodded. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Knowing this house is ours.”
“Yep. And we have so much space. This is definitely better than staying at my old apartment.”
“Which I hated,” I added, touching his arm. “Isn’t it weird how everything changed?”
“For who?”
“All of us. Did you think we’d be here eighteen months ago?”
He shook his head. “Honestly? I never thought you and I would ever break through the barrier that we had between us, never mind any of this. Especially Peyton being pregnant.”
“No kidding. That’s the weirdest one of all. I would have sworn on my grave that she would never have gotten pregnant. Ever.”
“You’re not the only person. I guess filing the adoption papers changed her mind completely about parenthood.”
“Well, she couldn’t have Elliott without Bri,” I said. “She told me they’re due in court in two weeks to finalize the adoption. Bri wouldn’t stop talking about it. She’s so excited for Peyton to be her mom.”
“Poor kid,” he muttered. “She has no idea what she’s getting into.”
I laughed and tapped his arm. “She’s a great mom to her, and you know it.”
“I do. But I’m still her brother, so…”
“Dom.”
He chuckled. “Do you think we’ll have kids?”
“Yeah, but we’re doing gender selection, because nobody needs another Dom running around this planet. One is more than enough.”
“A girl could turn out like Peyton. We share genes, remember?”
“Crap. I guess it’s a potluck, huh?”
“Something like that, yeah.” He kissed the side of my head again. “I’m glad we did this.”
“So am I.” I leaned into him, briefly closing my eyes.
He held me a little tighter, and I relaxed into his hold. It was perfect—it always had been. And, against the odds, we’d made it this long.
A part of me still wondered if we could actually do it. The fear that one day I would lose him completely was something I didn’t think I would ever get rid of, but I was so glad I made the choice not to let it rule me.
The only thing I regretted was that we’d taken so long to admit to each other how we felt. And, you know what? I’d never been so glad to go on a date with another guy or see him go out with another woman.
Without that, I knew exactly where we’d be. We’d be in the same office, having the same fights. I’d be saving him the last piece of pizza, and he’d be doing all the little things around the office, so I never had to.
It still amazed me that he could do all that, but he was basically unable to pay the internet company until I took control over that.
Then again, he was a little strange like that. Can’t keep a key in his pocket to save his life, but printer ink?
Sign. Him. Up.
“Chlo?” Dom whispered in my ear.
“Yeah?”
“I saved you the last piece of pizza.”
And that, right there, was true love.
THE END
FOUR DAY FLING
AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER ON ALL RETAILERS
A standalone romantic comedy of epically awkward proportions, from New York Times bestselling author, Emma Hart.
Imagine this.
You’re ready to leave after a one-night stand, and you’re figuring out how to—shock horror—leave your number and ask him to be your fake boyfriend for your sister’s wedding this weekend.
When he wakes up.
Well, that happened to me. And over coffee and omelets, I found myself a date.
Which was how I ended up arriving at the wedding with a guy I knew nothing about.
I didn’t know his last name, or how we met, or how long we’d been dating. I didn’t know where he grew up, what he’d majored in in college, or how many siblings he had.
I sure as hell didn’t know he was Adam Winters, hotshot hockey player—and not only my father’s favorite player, but my little nephew’s freakin’ idol.
Which means I’m in tro
uble. Big, big trouble.
My mother is suspicious, my sister is bridezilla on crack, and my grandpa will tell anyone who’ll listen about his time in Amsterdam’s Red Light District.
Four days.
I have to keep this up for four days, and then Adam and I can return to our regular lives, where we don’t have sex whenever we’re alone and my family aren’t interrogating him over his intentions with me.
At least, that’s the plan.
And we all know what happens to those.
A B O U T T H E A U T H O R
Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages.
She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs.
Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud.
Yes, really. She's that sarcastic.
You can find her online at:
www.emmahart.org
www.facebook.com/emmahartbooks
www.instagram.com/EmmaHartAuthor
www.pinterest.com/authoremmahart
Alternatively, you can join her reader group at http://bit.ly/EmmaHartsHartbreakers.
You can also get all things Emma to your email inbox by signing up for Emma Alerts*. http://bit.ly/EmmaAlerts
*Emails sent for sales, new releases, pre-order availability, and cover reveals. Each cover reveal contains an exclusive excerpt.
B O O K S B Y E M M A H A R T
Standalones:
Blind Date
Being Brooke
Catching Carly
Casanova
Mixed Up
Miss Fix-It
Miss Mechanic
The Upside to Being Single
The Hook-Up Experiment
The Dating Experiment
Four Day Fling (coming July 24th)
Hot Mess (coming September)
