by Sara Ney
Cal: Question 5. Um. Favorite spot for a first date?
Grey: Was that a hint? Cause if it was…
Grey: Wait. I have to play catch-up here. Last thing I licked: cupcake earlier today at the sorority house. Delicious. But not as delicious as you. Favorite spot for a first date? Out on the lake. Question: Last thing you WISH you’d licked.
Cal: Okay, that’s not fighting fair. You wanna play dirty, little girl? Fine. Last thing I wish I licked? You. All over. Tits, ass, everywhere.
Grey: Are you trying to shock me? Because it won’t work. You’ll have to do better than that.
Grey: Crap. Some guy just spilled beer all over my shoes. Running to wipe them off. BRB.
Cal: Seriously? NOW? Dammit.
Cal: …
Cal: ??? UGH!!
Grey: Okay, I’m back. Sorry, I know that was a total buzzkill. Last think I wish I’d licked? Your tattoo looks like I want my tongue on it. Next question is yours, slacker.
Cal: Alright. Favorite body part on the opposite sex (and I’m going to ignore the tongue on my tattoo comment because if I don’t, I’ll get hard.)
Grey: Question amended. Favorite body part on YOU. Your tight ass, specifically in those gray pants you wore to bed last night. I mean. Orgasmic. Seriously. Your abs are insane.
Cal: STOP. Just stop. You’re making me hard.
Grey: Yeah, well. I guess SOMEONE should have invited me to join him tonight and we could have taken care of that problem. Let’s call your hard-on a punishment for being too wussy to ask me out.
Cal: That’s hitting below the belt.
Grey: Below the belt. Mmm mmm… yum.
Cal: Knock that shit off. I’m in public. One of my teammates has been trying to steal my phone for the last ten minutes. Says I’m looking down at it like a horny bastard.
Grey: Are you?
Cal: Yes.
Cal: We never did finish that game of 20 Questions. Are you still up?
Grey: Yeah, we got home about 30 minutes ago.
Cal: Sober?
Grey: Yes. You?
Cal: Yup. FaceTime?
3 Weeks Later
Tabitha Thompson
I cannot believe my brother brought a girl home to my parents’ house.
I cannot freaking believe my brother has a girlfriend.
I wasn’t sure I should believe Cal when he first started subtly telling the family bits and pieces about her. Greyson is smart and funny and caring and sweet, blah, blah, blah.
Gag.
Nice and sweet and caring and funny? Pfft! No way. Don’t guys always say shit like that when they’re finally getting laid on a regular basis?
And, of course, being a good sister, I didn’t believe he was actually dating anyone. Especially when he showed me her picture.
Jeez.
At first, all I could do was stare back at her photographs online and gawk. That beautiful blonde girl is my brother’s girlfriend? No. Way. Long, naturally blonde hair, big boobs, athletically toned, Greyson Keller is a walking, talking anti-stereotype on two perfectly tanned legs. She actually exists.
In nature. Like, they let her just walk around in the wild.
Greyson Keller is also, I’m happy to report, amazing. Wonderful. Sincere. Real. The whole gamut of pleasant compliments. And more importantly, completely head over heels for my dumb little brother, who deserves someone like her in his life.
I trail behind them, the three of us paddling across the surface of Lake Walton, slicing our oars through the dark water at a leisurely pace, the day calm, sunny, and perfect. Greyson and Cal are ahead of me, rowing side by side in companionable silence.
I watch as they steal glances at each other every couple feet, trying to be sly about it but failing miserably. They cannot keep their eyes off each other, and if I weren’t so damn happy for my brother, I would be repulsed.
Nonetheless, as a single female, I feel it’s my duty to give an eye roll towards the blue, cloudless sky.
“Babe, let’s check out that sand bar over there.” My brother’s low voice carries back to me. He twists his lean torso and looks back at me. “Tab, we’re gonna stop at the island.”
“Hey, I know that place!” Greyson exclaims, excited. “This is the little paradise you texted me a picture of.”
Cal grins at her, obviously pleased that she remembered, and we all paddle deftly towards the little island. It’s actually more of a peninsula jutting out into the water, with a white sand beach, picnic tables, and campfire site.
As we get closer, I can see a small smokestack where the last campers had their bonfire, the faint, gray smoldering cloud rising into the canopy of trees from the dying embers.
My brother continues. “I’ve always wanted to stop, but stopping by myself always just seemed depressing.”
Greyson smiles at him prettily. “Well, now you never have to.”
I watch as my brother’s steely gaze lands on the cleavage beneath her life jacket. “Kayaking with you is almost worse.”
Her pretty eyes widen. “What! Why?”
“Because I just keep wanting to lean over and pull you into the water. Get us both wet.”
Gross. I want to splash them both with my paddle. “Alright, you two, stop. Just stop. You’re making me sick.”
My brother, who I would never guess in a million years would freely give PDA, leans his muscular, tattooed arm out to draw Greyson’s kayak closer, and he bends over the side of his, puckering his lips.
Their eyes close behind their sunglasses and their lips meet, pressing together over the water.
They both sigh.
Greyson lays her paddle across her red kayak, the delicate fingers of one hand reaching up to gently stroke the new gash under my brother’s left eye. “I have to put some more Neosporin on this.” Her voice drifts over the water, soothing.
My annoying brother nods into her palm, gazing at her like a lovesick puppy dog. “Okay.”
What the…
Seriously, could this get any worse?
“I brought us a picnic.”
Never mind. It just did.
Greyson gasps in delight. “Oh my God, Cal, sweetie—could you be any more perfect?”
“I don’t know. Could you?”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
They’re disgusting. Just disgusting.
Greyson sighs.
I sigh too.
It’s gonna be a long. Ass. Day.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Have you ever met anyone online and fallen in like?
Fallen into a relationship with someone you’ve never even met face-to-face?
I have.
And it’s amazing. Hilarious.
I’m talking about my friends; each and every crazy one of them. The ladies in the BS Group online, whom I’ve never met but am unconditionally faithful to— once they call you asshole, you’re golden for life.
Not a day goes by that you don’t brighten my day, make me blush, gasp in outrage when you tag me in an inappropriate meme #ShirlRickman, or call me the “W” word; which somehow always feels like a compliment.
Thank you, all you beautiful strangers, for your support. You make my day.
Every day.
M.E. Carter—you’re easily becoming like a sister I love to poke in the back seat of the car; constantly pretending to be irritated, but secretly loving every minute of it. In fact, I bet you’re grumbling as you read this even though I’m showering you with praise. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Thank you for friending me, answering all my questions, and for all the introductions. You are a blessing—a lovely, wonderful, and witty blessing—and I look forward to many more projects with you.
To Murphy Rae. Meow.
You endure endless questions and are always gracious. Yes, you. Gracious. Well. Most of the time…
Laurie Darter—thank you for your honest feedback of #TLS, your fantastic company, and Magic Mike XL; your gift of half-naked men
dancing on the big screen is something I will never forget. Mostly because it burned my retina’s, and caused me to laugh when no one else in the theater was except you and Christine...
Christine Kuttnauer—who became a sounding board on this project after helping me tie up A Kiss Like This with a tidy little bow. Every time I open a private message online and start laughing, tears streaming out of my eyes, my husband asks “What is so damn funny?”
It’s usually you. Or you and Shirl, together.
You have an amazing eye for the little details that make a huge impact; and incredible ideas for storylines. I particularly love the plot line involving mud wrestling and stolen kisses, although I’ll have to be creative about working that one into my next book. Or was it kisses in the rain with some mud? Or just kissing.
Dammit Christine, make up your mind!
I don’t think you hear often enough about how remarkable you are; how talented and clever and wonderful. I am so grateful to call you my friend.
Special thanks to Wendi Temporado—may this be the beginning of a long, beautiful relationship.
Jennifer Cashin, Kirstin Kanoff, the real Abby Darlington, and Chandler Kadlec, for loving this book before it was even edited.
And as always, thank you to all my readers.
Every day I try to improve my writing, and dream up stories:
for you.
