The List (The List #1)

by Tawna Fenske

  “All right, then,” I tell him. “Give me just a second to do something.”

  I sit down on the sofa and pull my laptop toward me. As Simon watches, I toggle my way to a document I haven’t opened for weeks.

  Super awesome wild-ass (holy shit they’re gonna kill me) sex stuff to figure out before D-day

  I scroll down to item number nine and hover the cursor over the little checkbox. All those words wink back at me. Sexy things we’ve done. Experiences I never expected to have, especially not with the man standing in front of me with his hands stuffed awkwardly in the pockets of his tuxedo trousers.

  I look up at Simon and he smiles. My heart surges upward and lodges somewhere in my throat. I am such a goner.

  I look back at the document and click the checkbox next to item number nine.

  “There.” I look up at him. “Almost done. There’s just the Post Hole Digger, and I don’t think we’ll ever figure that one out.”

  His grin gets wider, but he doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he peels off the tuxedo jacket and rests it over the back of the sofa. Then he walks around to the front of the couch and sits down beside me.

  “Yes, we will,” he says. “We’ll figure it out together.”

  I lick my lips, not daring to look at him. “The sex position?”

  “The sex position, the relationship—all of it.”

  He’s so close I can feel the heat from his body. So close I could climb into his lap if I felt like it.

  I kinda feel like it.

  He puts an arm around me, and I lean into all that heat. When he cups one palm around my cheek, I let him tip my face up. I’m staring into those liquid brown eyes, and I know he’s about to kiss me.

  I know what else is coming, too.

  “So, you’re saying if we finish The List, it isn’t the end?”

  “Nope,” he says. “It’s just the beginning.”

  Epilogue

  Simon

  “Bend over, little girl,” I murmur. “I’m going to paddle you good with this.”

  Cassie snort-laughs into her wineglass and gives me a practiced eye roll. “Flip the burgers, dork.”

  I grin and toss the barbecue tongs in one hand. “Fine. But for the record, this would totally work as a flogger.”

  She’s trying to look stern, but I can see the heat in her eyes. I also know she totally loved the flogger thing the other night.

  Hey, just because we’ve been together a year doesn’t mean we’ve stopped experimenting.

  “Behave yourself and take the buns.” She sets down a platter of sesame-covered rolls and gives me a suggestive wink. “Careful not to burn them.”

  I gaze after her buns as she saunters off toward the kitchen, hips swaying in a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a green sleeveless top I know her sisters convinced her to wear. I remind myself to send them a thank-you note as I turn my attention back to the grill. The meat sizzles when I flip the patties, rearranging them over the hot coals.

  I could have had my private chef handle all of this, but I wanted to do the honors. Today, Cassie and I are celebrating one year together. That’s assuming you define “together” as “the first time we mashed our genitals against each other,” which isn’t something Hallmark makes a card for. Still, it’s an important milestone, so we’ve invited the whole gang to celebrate.

  Missy and Lisa have been busy rearranging the centerpieces on all the bistro tables scattered around my patio. Our patio, I amend silently, a little giddy with the thought that Cassie and I now share a home. It took months of convincing before she agreed to move in with me, but I think she’s loving it as much as I am.

  Around-the-clock sex is only one of the reasons.

  “Simon?”

  I turn to see Lisa holding up a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, which I made sure to have well stocked just for her. “This is just sitting in the chill bucket getting sweaty,” she says. “Would you like me to go ahead and open it?”

  “Be my guest,” I tell her. “You’ll find glasses over there. Pour some for everyone if you want.”

  “Uh-uh,” Junie says, grimacing as she steps up beside Lisa. “No way. Champagne tastes like soda pop made out of battery acid.”

  I frown at my sister. “When have you had champagne?”

  “Or battery acid?” Lisa puts her arm around Junie’s shoulders and begins walking toward the pool. “Come on. I brought some of that soda you liked at Missy’s house the other day. Want me to fix you a glass with a little umbrella in it?”

  “You have cherries?”

  “Yep! I even brought straws.”

  My sister beams, and I feel my heart dissolving into a sticky lump of bubblegum in my chest as the two of them disappear through the gate. As I flip another burger, someone touches my arm. I look up to see Sarah, the caretaker for Junie’s group home.

  “For the record, Junie didn’t have champagne,” Sarah reassures me. “It was sparkling cider at Lisa’s wedding.”

  “Was this before or after the groom freaked out and took off running?”

  Sarah grimaces. “After,” she says. “But before the sisters started drinking Dom Perignon straight from the bottle and speculating whether castration with a grapefruit spoon or a rusty nail would be more effective.”

  I look through the pool gate at Lisa, who’s laughing with Junie over something one of them just said. As distraught as Cassie’s sister seemed when her dickhead fiancé pulled a runaway-groom maneuver, she appears fully recovered.

  According to Cassie, Lisa’s better off without the prick.

  Turning back to Sarah, I flip another burger patty. “I’m really glad you came to Lisa’s wedding, even if it didn’t happen. Junie adores you so much, and since Cassie’s family has made Junie such a big part of their family—”

  “Don’t go getting sappy on me, Traxel.” Sarah grins. “You know I love hanging out with you guys.”

  “Still, I owe you an extra bonus. What kind of car do you like?”

  She laughs like I’m joking, even though I’m not. But I guess that will have to be a surprise, since Sarah smacks me on the shoulder and heads off toward the pool with the others. A few minutes later, Cassie reappears by my side with a plate of cheese slices in one hand.

  “At least half the crowd wants cheese.” She stands on tiptoe to kiss the edge of my jawline. “And I definitely want you.”

  “No problem on either count.”

  She grins and sinks back down on her heels, her gaze drifting toward the pool. “You know who’d be great to hook up with Sarah?”

  I glance down to see Cassie giving me a mischievous grin, and all I can think about is how great Cassie is with me. “Sarah’s sweet, but we are not having a threesome with my sister’s caregiver,” I tease.

  “Ugh! Totally not where I was going with that, you perv!” She swats my ass as I begin piling cheese slices on the sizzling patties. “I was actually thinking of setting her up with—”

  “Hey, Cassie.”

  We both turn to see Missy approaching with a champagne flute in one hand. Her husband, Parker, is a few steps behind, and the way he’s checking out his wife’s ass gives me warm thoughts about the future for Cassie and me.

  “Did you make these centerpieces?” Missy asks her sister. “They’re fabulous.”

  Cassie lifts an eyebrow at her sister and crosses one sandal-clad ankle over the other, then leans against the deck railing. “Is that a real question? You know my idea of crafty is replacing an empty toilet paper roll, right?”

  “I made them,” I volunteer, earning myself a dubious look from Parker. “Well, I had them made just for Cassie. Each layer is a different type of soil from the Pacific Northwest. That blackish one is a Medford loam from southern Oregon, and the red one is a Jory soil from Douglas County, and the middle one is Walla Walla silt loam from—”

  “The fact that you can name even one type of soil is the reason you’re totally getting laid tonight,” Cassie interrupts, sliding an arm
around my waist as she beams up at me.

  “Please,” Missy scoffs. “The fact that he can dress himself would be all the reason you’d need.”

  Cassie laughs. “Actually, I sort of prefer him undressed.”

  “Bad idea,” Parker says, grimacing at the grill. “For safety’s sake, no naked grilling.”

  “Come on, party pooper.” Missy links her arm through his. “Let’s go find the dip.”

  I don’t get a chance to ponder whether that’s a euphemism for something, because Cassie’s hand in the back pocket of my shorts is making me think seriously about tossing aside the barbecue tongs and letting the burgers burn while I ravage her against the side of the house.

  It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Thanks for doing this,” she says as she squeezes my ass. “I wasn’t sure how the whole family thing was going to gel.”

  “Seems to be gelling pretty well to me.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?”

  She looks around to take in the expansive lawn, the sparkling turquoise pool, the rows of pink and purple petunias planted several weeks ago when Missy and Lisa snuck in to give my yard “a homey touch.”

  It is homey, though. It’s not the sort of home I even imagined for myself. It’s better.

  I look down at Cassie and grin. “I think we’ve done pretty well here.”

  She tucks a strand of hair behind one ear and smiles back at me. “Not too shabby at all. You’re pretty okay for a frivolous sex toy.”

  “Same to you.” I grin and check the burgers one last time. “I love you, Cass. So damn much.”

  For a guy who swore he’d never say that to anyone besides his sister, I’ve gotten pretty good at it lately. From the way Cassie beams at me, I can tell she agrees.

  “I love you, too.” She stands on tiptoe to plant a kiss on my temple. “Now give me a burger.”

  “I’ll give it to you, all right.” I scoop one off the grill and slide it onto the toasted bun she hands me. “I’ll give it to you any way you want it.”

  Cassie laughs and kisses me again, this time on the lips. “Nothing like a man who’s generous with the meat.”

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  Acknowledgments

  Much love and thanks to my critique partners and beta readers who got an extra dose of smut with this one. I’m especially grateful to Linda Grimes and Kait Nolan for the fast turnarounds and spot-on feedback, and am ever-indebted to Cynthia Reese, Larie Borden, Minta Powelson, and Larie Borden for continuing to make me a better writer. Thanks also to Eric Powelson for the sexy computer lingo.

  Huge thank yous to my agency-sistah, Lauren Blakely, for the endless support, encouragement, and hand-holding. I’m also indebted to all the loyal bloggers and readers who’ve posted reviews or shared my books with friends and family. I couldn’t do this without you!

  I’m super thankful to Liz Pelletier of Entangled Publishing for all the extra editorial work on this book, and for seeing so much potential in Simon and Cassie’s story. Big thanks to the rest of the Entangled team as well, including Kaitlyn Osborn, Jessica Turner, Melanie Smith, Heather Riccio, Curtis Svehlak, and anyone else I might have inadvertently forgotten here. Love you guys!

  As always, I’m eternally grateful to Michelle Wolfson of Wolfson Literary Agency for being my most enthusiastic cheerleader, advocate, and business partner.

  Oodles of hugs and kisses to my family, Dixie and David Fenske, Carlie and Aaron “Russ” Fenske, and to my fabulous stepkids, Cedar and Violet. You guys are my rock stars!

  And thank you to Craig Zagurski for never batting an eyelash when I say things like, “I need to go to a vegan strip club to research this scene.” I know being married to a romance author isn’t all kitchen counter sex and four-dollar motorboats, so thanks for handling the less-than-sexy aspects of my career with love, patience, and tolerance. Love you, babe!

  About the Author

  Tawna Fenske traveled a career path that took her from newspaper reporter to English teacher in Venezuela to marketing geek to PR manager for her city’s tourism bureau. An avid globetrotter and social media fiend, Tawna is the author of the popular blog, Don’t Pet Me, I’m Writing, and a member of Romance Writers of America. She lives with her husband in Bend, Oregon, where she’ll invent any excuse to hike, bike, snowshoe, float the river, or sip wine on her back deck. She’s published several romantic comedies with Sourcebooks, including Making Waves, which was nominated for contemporary romance of the year by RT Book Reviews. She also writes heartwarming series books for Entangled Publishing, and tender, funny romances for Montlake Publishing. Tawna’s quirky brand of comedy and romance has won praises from Kirkus Reviews, which noted, “Up-and-coming romance author Fenske sets up impeccable internal and external conflict and sizzling sexual tension for a poignant love story between two engaging characters, then infuses it with witty dialogue and lively humor. An appealing blend of lighthearted fun and emotional tenderness.”

  Also by Tawna Fenske

  The Fix Up

  The Hang Up

  Marine for Hire

  Fiancée for Hire

  Best Man for Hire

  Protector for Hire

  Eat, Play, Lust

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