ACCIDENTAL TRYST
Page 27
“I do,” he said then brought his mouth to my ear, causing a flight of goosebumps to flutter down my body. “I want to know them all. Especially what’s in your bedside drawer.”
I swallowed down a flood of embarrassed laughter. “You have to pick. How I cracked the code to your phone, or what’s in my bedside drawer.”
“Aww, come on.”
I shook my head.
“Tell me both, and I’ll tell you what the L stands for,” he offered.
“That’s one secret for two, what kind of businessman are you?”
“One who always gets two for the price of one.” He chuckled.
“Ha. Not from me you don’t.”
“Okay, how about you tell me about growing up?”
I tensed.
“You don’t have to, of course, and David’s told me a few things, but—”
“What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me?”
I glanced sideways at him. “Does it really matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Well, I was never abused if that’s what you’re thinking. And I don’t know much about what the situation was that got me into the foster system. But I never found a forever home until the Dubois family took me in. God, I sound like a stray cat.”
“You were.” He smiled, but it was a sad smile.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Trystan. I’m happy. I got a good family in the end. My foster father had a weak heart and my foster mom died of breast cancer, but you can’t predict those things. They gave me the years they had left. And when they were gone, I had David. I was grateful for every moment they wanted to keep me around.”
Trystan took a sip of his beer with his free hand. “You have an amazing outlook on life.”
“There’s no point in being any other way.” I shrugged and sipped my own drink.
“Yes, but I get it now. Why you’re having a hard time giving us a chance.” He leaned forward and removed his arm from my shoulder, dislodging me from his side.
I made a sound of distress at the loss of his warmth.
He set down his beer and moved off the couch to sit on the coffee table facing me, his legs spread.
“I want to keep you around,” he said with intensity.
“Good,” I smiled. “I want to keep you around too.”
“I mean it. I want to keep you.”
“Okay.” I narrowed my eyes still grinning. “Weirdo.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. “Thanks for the drink, but I think I’m going to go.”
“Wait. What?” My stomach sank.
“Taking it slow, remember?”
I pouted. “Where are you staying?”
“At my grandmother’s if you can believe it. For now. But I’m going to move to Charleston permanently.”
My sinking stomach suddenly lurched right back up my insides in happiness. “You are?” I couldn’t help the grin that spread, even as I tried to bite my lips to keep it in.
“I take it that’s a good thing.”
I nodded. “Very.”
He smirked and leaned forward again. Taking my face in his, he kissed my mouth softly then my forehead. “Emmy, I . . .”
“What?”
He let out a breath. “Nothing. I’ll see you in the morning.”
* * *
I woke in my bed, sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds. Stretching across my empty bed, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. It was early. Early enough to enjoy lying in bed for a few minutes.
Silently, I apologized to my morning Skimm email with the latest things I had to know in the world, and instead I pulled up the dating app Armand and Annie had tried to get me to look at last night.
Trystan's image filled the screen again, and I took a moment to really look. My gaze traced his hair that caught the sunlight and the curves and hard lines of his face. His eyes. The crinkles near his eyes, though he wasn't smiling exactly. It was more of a candid shot. His lips. I wanted to kiss those again. Soon. His suit. And then . . .
I turned and looked at my cat, Tuna, who lay next to me and stared through slitted eyes. "Traitor," I whispered.
Tuna let out a sound like a half meow as if he couldn't quite muster up the energy for a response, then lapsed into a deep purr.
I scrolled down:
97% match.
Trystan
31 years old.
0.6 miles away.
Charleston, SC
LOOKING FOR: Only redheads (real ones). Cats not dogs (can be persuaded. I mean . . . dogs). Sense of humor. Girls who read poetry. Take pictures of food. Sew. Freckles. Cream no sugar. Must be 28. Live in French Quarter. Must have ability to dance to Latin beats. Gluten free. Better with no makeup. Great at job but dislike boss. Must have French sounding name. And love dirty talk. Also don't mean to be creepy, but have no blood relatives they consider family. Someone to build a life with.
* * *
I smiled stupidly. Reading this first would certainly have primed me to see Trystan in a more positive light when he showed up last night. It was a silly move. A silly gesture. But I could see the heartfelt nature of it. And I could certainly see Annie's fingerprints all over it. My phone vibrated as I held it.
* * *
Trystan: Good morning.
* * *
Morning.
* * *
I pressed my lips together to control my smile and stop the butterflies flying from my stomach up my throat.
* * *
I'm concerned about the 3%.
* * *
Trystan: What? 3%? This is Trystan. You did save my number in your phone, right? You didn't delete it?
* * *
LOL. Our dating profile says we are a 97% match. I'm concerned about the 3%.
* * *
Trystan: Oh. About that. I think it's sexual compatibility.
* * *
I snorted a laugh.
* * *
What?
* * *
Trystan: You know? In the bedroom?
* * *
I know what it means. But it makes no sense.
* * *
Trystan: You said it, not me.
* * *
Ha.
* * *
Trystan: But you know . . . maybe there are a couple things you wouldn't try. Not assuming, just suggesting.
* * *
Not likely.
* * *
Trystan: Oh Emmy, be careful.
* * *
A thrill of giddiness went through me. My insides felt warm and gooey. I was glad he left last night after we spoke though. I think we both needed to get some distance and perspective on our feelings. Spoiler, they hadn't changed. He still made me all sorts of terrified, but it was mixed with the most exquisite and exhilarating joy.
* * *
Promises. Promises. I text back, biting my lip to contain my smile.
* * *
Trystan: Looking forward to our first date. (He says, trying to change the subject and keep his dirty, dirty mind in check)
* * *
It's an interesting first date, that's for sure.
* * *
Trystan: Picking you up to take you to the airport so you can meet another man? Sure.
* * *
Not man. Men! David AND D'Andre.
* * *
Trystan: Yep. Men. I'm taking you to meet two other men.
* * *
And buying me coffee.
* * *
Trystan: You still in bed?
* * *
Yes.
* * *
Trystan: Me too . . .
* * *
Oh no you don't.
* * *
Trystan: Aww. Come on. What r u wearing?
* * *
Nothing.
* * *
Trystan: :: Groan :: Fantastic. And what is your hand doing?
* * *
Holdi
ng the phone.
* * *
Trystan: Your other hand?
* * *
Stroking my pussy
* * *
I chuckled and texted again.
* * *
Pussy cat.
* * *
Tuna.
* * *
Trystan: I didn't get your last two messages.
* * *
Ha ha.
* * *
Trystan: Whhhyyyy won’t you tell me how you bypassed the security code on my phone?
* * *
Why won’t you tell me what the L in your name stands for?
* * *
Trystan: Not even my shrink knows that.
* * *
You don't have a shrink.
* * *
Trystan: Do you remember how you said that when we texted you felt like you could tell me anything?
* * *
Yeah . . .
* * *
Trystan: Be my shrink then. Can I tell you something? Something I backed off telling you last night?
* * *
I licked my lips nervously and shifted in the bed.
* * *
Why couldn't you tell me?
* * *
Trystan: I was worried you wouldn't believe me. Or you'd run away again. It was thiiiiiiiis close last night.
* * *
I frowned.
* * *
Why tell me this morning then? What changed?
* * *
Trystan: I'm taking a chance.
* * *
Okay, shoot.
* * *
Trystan: Do you promise to accept it on face value?
* * *
Face value?
* * *
Trystan: Like . . . it is what it is.
* * *
You're putting it in writing. So it has to stand.
* * *
Trystan: It does.
* * *
I waited, biting my lip and scowling at my phone.
* * *
Trystan: Here goes . . .
* * *
Trystan: I think we should try anal.
* * *
Oh my God.
* * *
Trystan: Just kidding.
* * *
Trystan: What I wanted to say was . . .
* * *
Trystan: I fell for you before I ever touched you. But I didn't think you'd believe me. Or you'd be too shocked and reject it. But I'm pretty sure about it. I've never felt the way I do about you, ever. And now this doesn't seem so shocking after the anal comment does it?
* * *
Oh my God. You. Are. A. Psycho.
* * *
Trystan: Nah. Just a little fucked in the head.
* * *
My heart beat so hard, I sat up in bed dislodging the cat and causing him to give a disgruntled mewl.
* * *
Pick me up in thirty minutes. I need time to process . . .
* * *
Holy shit, did I ever need time to process. Thirty minutes might not cut it. But it would have to do since I didn't want to be late to get to the airport to meet David and D'Andre, who was so kindly escorting him to South Carolina.
My feelings for Trystan had shocked me too. They'd made me completely freak out after sleeping with him. Knowing he'd been feeling the same way . . . I sighed and couldn't help the stupid grin on my face. God, we were like two newborn calves trying to walk. It probably wasn't going to be easy, but if he was willing to take a chance, I guess I was too.
* * *
Trystan: Your processing time is freaking me out. Why I decided to text you and not tell you to your face is beyond me. I need to see you right now.
* * *
Relax. Texting is what we do best :)
* * *
Trystan: Not true. We do other things extremely well. Texting is like . . . third.
* * *
Guess what?
* * *
Trystan: What?
* * *
It's Tuesday.
* * *
Trystan: And?
* * *
And?!?! It's our anniversary. The anniversary of our accidental meeting.
* * *
Trystan: So it is.
* * *
I love Tuesdays.
* * *
And you.
* * *
<<<<>>>>
* * *
Thank you for reading Emmy and Trystan’s Story
* * *
Beau’s story
INCONVENIENT WIFE
Coming Soon
* * *
Join my reader group so you never miss a release:
http://eepurl.com/dk9N75
* * *
Or text NATASHABOYD to 31996 from a US based cellphone
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much for joining me on this journey with Emmy and Trystan. You, dear readers, are the reason I do this. If my books can help anyone smile, laugh, cry or get out of their own heads for even few minutes in this crazy world, I consider that a success. Please consider leaving an honest review, no matter how short. I’m not exaggerating when I say it’s the most wonderful gift you can give an author after buying their book. Many times retailers and other advertisers only offer us promotional opportunities when we have reviews, so we depend on them to grow our careers. It also helps other readers discover our work.
Thank you to my husband for his continuing and uplifting support of me and my career. Honey, I love you so much. I could never do this without you. Thank you to my sons for tolerating my hours spent typing.
Julie of hearttocover.com, thank you for working with me on my vision of the pink vintage UK chick-lit covers! Julie and Lisa, and Karina, my dear friends and beta readers, I appreciate you so much. Karina, I don’t know how I’d live without our WhatsApp voice-memo friendship! It keeps me sane. Tech historians of the future will have a gold mine if they ever get a hold of our threads.
Thank you, Karen Lawson, for your eagle eyes.
Judy, (Judy-roth.com) thank you for your amazing editing services. I can’t ever imagine publishing a book without your eyes and input on my work.
ALSO BY NATASHA BOYD
The Butler Cove Novels
Eversea (Eversea #1)
Forever, Jack (Eversea #2)
My Star, My Love (An Eversea Christmas Novella)
All That Jazz
Beach Wedding (Eversea #3)
and
Deep Blue Eternity
(A standalone contemporary romance )
and
Accidental Tryst (March 2018)
(A Romantic Comedy)
Inconvenient Wife (Coming Soon)
ALSO : Ever wished your favorite romance author would write a “bookclub” type book? Well, I did! The Indigo Girl a historical fiction ( or should I say, herstorical fiction?) novel is available now in hardcover, ebook and audio. It’s ?based on a true story and its a woman’s story you don’t want to miss.
* * *
Inconvenient Wife
All Beau Montgomery, one of Charleston’s most eligible bachelors, wants to do is build boats. He has no interest in marriage whatsoever … until it means he might not get his inheritance and he can kiss his boat building dreams goodbye. But the hungry hordes of Charleston debutantes looking to score a Montgomery scare him sh*tless. Luckily, his best girlfriend Gwen has found him the perfect out. Marry a member of the armed services by proxy! He’ll never have to even meet the girl! Though her emails are starting to become highly addictive.
Gwen has loved Beau Montgomery since she used to run barefoot around the marina as scrappy preteen tomboy. Knowing she’ll never fit into his high society family, she decided long ago that she’d become his indispensable best friend rather than not be in his life at all. When he tells her he needs to marry in order to fulfill his dreams, she panics that he might actually meet someone and she’ll lose him forever.
So she hatches the perfect plan. A marriage by proxy! But when her chosen target proves unreliable and impossible to pin down, Gwen writes Beau a few emails just to keep the connection going before the big day. I mean Beau is never going to even meet this woman in real life so what does does it matter if the words are hers …