The photographer really enjoyed their complimentary stay at the Black Cherry Valentine Hotel & Resort when it opened. Friendship is a wonderful thing.
“I’ve got a short list ready for you to look at after you get back,” says Christian, and then he and his date head for the chairs and find their seats.
“Shortlist?” asks Hunter out of the side of his mouth as we greet more people, this time a couple I don’t recognize. Turns out they’re McKenna’s third cousins, twice removed or something, and we exchange polite platitudes before they move on.
“Yeah. Since Black Cherry Valentine is doing so well, I figured we could expand.”
“Don’t ask me to move, man. I like it around here.”
“I noticed.” I waggle my eyebrows at him. His attachment to a certain local is hardly a secret, but the man likes his privacy and just glowers at me as I try to straighten my face to greet the next people in line.
Apparently I’m not expected to stand here and say hello to everyone, but I only invited people I really wanted at my wedding, and so did McKenna. It only seems polite to actually make the time to say hi and exchange a few words before the big event.
“Where’s your girl, Nash? You’re gonna be the odd man out at this rate,” says Flynn, further down the line.
Nash just rolls his eyes and shakes someone’s hand before gesturing for them to sit to the left of the aisle.
“He’ll fall sooner or later,” I joke. “Probably to an international criminal.”
Nash stiffens. It’s the faintest of tells, but I see it. Wow. What’s going on there? Then I realize he’s looking at something, and I follow his line of sight, just in time to see a flash of blue disappearing around the corner of the building. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t leave the line.
“If anyone needs to take care of business, now’s the time,” I say, after greeting the last person in line. If Nash wants to go and check on something, maybe even someone, this is my way of giving him a chance. Instead he just looks at me, not fooled, and shakes his head before heading up the aisle with the rest of us towards the altar.
I have no idea if McKenna’s going to be on time or not, and I don’t really care. It’s her wedding. She can make me wait ten hours if she wants to, as long as I get to put my ring on her finger and have the celebrant tell the world that we’re husband and wife at the end of it.
Barely two minutes later, though, the music starts, and I turn to see a vision in white gliding over the grass. I know I’ve got the goofiest smile in the history of goofy smiles on my face, and it only widens as she comes closer and I register the white lace cherries in her veil and scattered over her dress. She’s beautiful, my strong, fierce, intelligent, funny bride, the only woman I’ve ever met who could calm the wandering storm inside me.
Her maid of honor takes her bouquet, and I deliberately ignore the way the woman’s eyes slide over my shoulder. Yeah, Hunter can think he’s hiding it, but he isn’t hiding shit, and neither is she.
Not that I have a problem with it. As long as he’s happy, so am I. I know Flynn’s happy. He’s been obsessed with his girl for a while now. Nash…well, who knows with Nash? Clearly he’s got something going on, and equally clearly it’s a little complicated, if his earlier reaction is anything to go by.
But I don’t care, because McKenna is in front of me, smiling up at me, telling the world she takes me to be her lawfully wedded husband.
“You may kiss the bride.”
This is the moment I’ve waited years for, years, but as I lean in, she hesitates, just for a second, and ice runs down my spine.
“What is it?” I whisper.
She bites her lip. “I have something to tell you,” she whispers back.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Whatever it is, I’ll end it. Any problem she has, I’ll take on single-handed and destroy. I’ll slay every dragon for her. “Tell me!”
She shakes her head. “Nothing’s wrong. Just…we’re not going to be as alone on our honeymoon as we thought.”
I frown down at her. “Sure we are. The place is full of supplies. Generator’s up and running. Backup generator’s been checked out. We won’t even need food for at least a month.”
She smirks at me, but there’s an edge of doubt to it as she rubs a hand over her belly. “This guest is coming along with us whether we like it or not.”
I look down at her finger circling over the fabric of her dress, and finally put it together. “Oh my God. Seriously? Seriously?”
She nods, her smile uncertain, and I realize she’s not sure how I’m going to take the news that I’m going to be a father. I can’t hold back any longer. I kiss her then, letting her know how I feel with my lips, my tongue, my hands wrapping around her and pulling her as close as our wedding outfits will allow.
Laughter and applause wash over and around us from the congregation, but I only have eyes for her, the best thing that ever happened to me. She brought me back to life, and now she’s giving me a new life to nurture as well.
This truly is the best day of my life, and I owe it all to her.
THE END
This is the first book in the Valentine Lake series, but if you like dominant billionaires, check out Caden, the first book in the Her Dominant Boss series, three dominant billionaires who know exactly what, and who, they want!
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About the Author
K.R. Max loves ice cream, big fluffy dogs, and stories where the woman finds her place with a super-hot guy who adores her. She specialises in dominant heroes and the sweet, innocent women who bring them to their knees!
If you like a fast read with a guaranteed happy ever after, lots of super-hot and VERY dirty shenanigans, and NO cheating OR cliffhangers, K. R. Max is for you!
His Cabbage Tosser
Steam & Giggles
Rachel A. Smith
Heat level: 4
She tried to forget him…
…and his wicked tongue.
Why did she have to fall for a celebrity?
She was a home body not a groupie.
Her parents would never approve.
What did it matter?
He probably didn’t even remember her.
They spent one night together—a year ago.
But he’s back was in town.
It’s going to get steamy.
Will Amy get the chance to toss Drew aka mega pop star one more time?
Find out…This rom-com will keep flicking from page to page until you get to the finish.
Chapter 1
Drew
House sitting for a best friend is not how most successful singer-songwriters find inspiration. Vacationing on a remote island. Partying with friends. Taking long solo road trips. Those are your typical sources for chart topping songs. But not me. My muse lives next door to my best friend from college, Eric Zhou. Possibly the only self-made multi-millionaire in New York who chooses to rent a shitty one-bedroom studio apartment. I don’t care what his reasons are. All I want is to see Amy Wang again.
I adjust the strap of my bag and look over my shoulder. Holding my breath, I pray the door of 2B will open. Geez. I’ve lost my mind. Why would sweet Amy be awake at this hour? It’s three a.m., for fuck’s sake. She’s probably tucked safely in her bed, asleep. What if she’s not alone? The air in my lungs spills into the frosty night air like I’ve been punched in the gut. It’s been over a year. Things change—she could have met someone. If she has a boyfriend, I’m fucked. The passionate tunes my fans love may as well turn into death metal at this point.
I pull the key to Eric’s place out of my pocket and slide it into the lock. Dammit. I should have gone with the band to the after party instead of racing over here like an idiot. My first night back in the big city and I’m going to spend it alone. Not that I’ve been with anyone since Amy. We agreed: one night only. Except I can’t shake the
memory of her coming on my face, or the feeling of exploding in that tight, wet pussy of hers.
Pushing the door open, I flick the light on. Fucking Eric. His place is immaculate. Nothing like my condo. I should probably hire a maid or something. It’s kinda nice to know that if I flop onto the couch, I won’t land on a bag of chips. I drop my duffle bag and lay out on my favorite couch. I thought about buying it from Eric, but he’d ask too many questions about why I wanted it. It’s stupid but I bury my nose into the cushion hoping to catch a whiff of Amy. Nope. Nothing. My ears ring in the quiet. I really need to get better ear plugs, and seeing as I’m not spending money on other forms of protection these days, I should splurge before we head back into the studio.
I search for the pillows I used to prop up Amy’s ass, but they are nowhere in sight. What the fuck has Eric done with them? Rolling to my feet, I snatch up my bag and take it into the sectioned off area he uses as a bedroom. Clean linens are stacked neatly on top of the bed. But no pillows. Why would Eric get rid of them? Unless he found out what Amy and I had done with them, on them, over them. Naw. Amy and her roommate, Emily, run the other direction any time they see Eric. Then where the fuck are the pillows?
I stroll back into the living area, ready to pass out, but my feet shuffle towards the front door. I can’t help myself. Winking through the peep hole, I stare at Amy’s front door across the hall one more time. Oh my god, I’m a groupie—or worse, a stalker. I drag myself back to the couch. Rotating, I trust fall back and land like a tree log on the cushions. My gut is twisted. From disgust or anxiety, I’m not sure which. I’d take a swing at any other man who acted this way towards a woman—it’s fucking creepy. Who’s crazy enough to fall in love with a woman that barely acknowledged his existence before one extraordinary night tumbling on soft pillows and rolled up in a blanket? Me. I’m that fucker.
My face is plastered across ten-foot-tall billboards all across the world. I’m on the cover of music magazines, and my fan mail mainly consists of women’s underwear, which grosses me out. I groan and roll onto my side. Whatever. I shouldn’t be crushing on Eric’s neighbor like a prepubescent teenage boy. I’m supposed to get laid, move onto the next city without a second thought. Not obsess over some hot chick who didn’t even know who I was when she tossed that cabbage at me. God, I love cabbage.
The picture-perfect image of Amy grinning up at me rolls across the back of my eyelids like a damned feature film. A year ago, I was on the landing cussing out Eric and his long list of groceries. The paper bag slipped from my arms as I reached for the door. Amy caught the errant cabbage before it rolled down the stairs. If she hadn’t offered to help me with the fruit and veggies sprawled on the floor, I’d never have written an album with seven top-100 songs in the span of two weeks. My cabbage tosser inspired all those hits, and if I want to write more chart toppers, I’m going to need more than just one night.
Chapter 2
Amy
It’s seriously like four degrees above freezing, and I’m surrounded by half-naked girls. I stuff my icy hands in my pea coat jacket and turn to Emily, who has her nose buried in her scarf. “Remind me. Why are we standing in line to go to a stupid after party? Drew probably doesn’t even remember me or my name.”
“Because I’m tired of you moping about the apartment. You need to see him with your own two eyes when he’s not hiding from the paparazzi. You need to find out what he’s really like. Not when it’s just the two of you in Eric’s apartment.”
“First, your nemesis wasn’t even home. Second, it was just ONE night.”
Em rolls her eyes at me. “One night that left you dreamy eyed for weeks, then miserable for the last ten months.”
“Fine. Even if we find him, what would I say? Hi, I’m in love with you, even though my parents would never approve of you, but hey, wanna grab a hotel room for the night, just for fun?”
The line moves forward, and Em pulls my sleeve until I’m standing next to her again. “Sarcasm has never been one of your finer qualities. Stick to…”
A muscular giant stuck out his hand, “ID, ladies.”
I blame genetics, but it sucks to look five years younger than you should. I’ll be twenty-six next month. I pull our IDs from my wristlet. The bouncer glances at the plastic and then back at us. “Welcome to Club Orion.” He steps to the side and Em shoves me forward.
A wall of hot, sweaty bodies move in time with the flashing strobe lights and ear-splitting music. It’s not like I’ve never set foot in a club before, it’s just not my scene. I tend to go about in the day and stay at home once it gets dark. Call me a home body—I’m not ashamed. It’s why my living arrangement with Em works out perfectly. She’s my bestie. Who else will watch game shows and reality TV with me every night? Only tonight she’s being a royal pain in my ass, dragging me to face the man I can’t seem to stop thinking about.
It’s impossible to see anything but boobs and sweaty armpits. Shuffling behind Em, I keep my eyes on the center of her back. She’s only two inches taller, but she navigates the crowd like a pro. I stick my fingers in ears. The music is pounding in my head. I don’t even listen to radio. Which is why I was clueless as to who Drew Walton was. For years, I thought he was just Eric’s house sitter. Oh, I’d noticed him. I’m not blind. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Tight ass. But I’d never seen him up close.…until the day I launched a cabbage at him. That close, his baby blue eyes caught me and sucked me in. His sexy grin lured me closer as he raised the green vegetable in the air and said, “Great toss.” I didn’t even give it a second thought when I helped him collect his bag of runaway produce and followed him into what Em calls the devil’s domain, aka Eric’s apartment. But it took every ounce of self-discipline my parents had drilled into me to leave him the next morning.
I roll onto my tiptoes and peer over Em’s shoulder. After months of googling Drew’s band, following his tour virtually, I can recite every public detail about each member of his crew. Trux, the drummer, is the tallest and easiest to spot. He has dark brown—nearly black—hair and both arms are tatted with scenes from different cities. Online, they looked like pieces of art. I tap Em’s shoulder. “That’s Trux over to the left.”
“Do you see Drew?”
I scan the area. Trux is the only member of the band even close by. “Nope.”
Em’s shoulders raise and lower. She must be really annoyed at me because she hates crowds. I wouldn’t have survived this past year if it weren’t for Em. She’s the only one who truly understands what it would mean to defy my parents.
“We need to get upstairs.” Em jumps in the air and comes back down, her boots just missing my toes. “There are ropes and huge guys guarding the stairs.”
“Let’s just go home. This is crazy. We’ll never find him, it’s too crowded, and this place is enormous.” I grab her arm and head for the exit.
She doesn’t resist at first, and then Em stops, jerking me back.
I rub my shoulder. “What is it?”
Em’s grinning. And then I hear it. The DJ is playing Flo Rida. Her favorite old school jam “Low” aka “Apple Bottom Jeans.” We were fourteen when it came out. She played that song over and over until even I knew the lyrics by heart. I’ve never been able to say no to her, especially when she has this goofy look on her face. I haven’t seen her this happy since middle school, since the day she stopped talking to Eric. I grab her hand and shrug out of my jacket. I tie it around my waist, ready to dance like we used to in her empty living room.
After three hours, and more shots and drinks than I care to remember, Em and I stumble out of the club and hop into a cab. As the car rolls up to our apartment complex, I shrug Em off my shoulder and pay for our ride. I’m sweaty and exhausted, but I can’t stop grinning. I caught glimpses of Drew’s band throughout the night, but never of the guy who is responsible for my panties getting wet every time I see a cabbage-filled egg roll.
Trudging up the stairs to our front door, I dig into my purse looking for
our key. “Ya know, Em, we should get out more.”
“Yea. We should.” She lets out a sad sigh.
“Why don’t we?”
“Because good girls don’t party until,”—She pulls out her phone from her back pocket and the screen lights up—“Oh my god, is it really six o’clock? I have to get to work by nine.” She pushes me out of the way.
“You’re going to work? It’s Saturday!”
Em swirls around and places a finger over lips. “Shh! You’ll wake up the neighbors.”
I point at Eric’s door. “Our neighbor is out of town and you know it.” I do a double take. I swear I saw the blinds move.
Bursting through the front door, Em races to her room. I go to close the door, but then something green and round rolls past me. My breath catches. I peek out and onto the landing and there it is—a head of cabbage.
Chapter 3
Drew
Heels clicking on the steps outside wake me. I stumble to the peep hole, blinking sleep from my eyes and parting the blinds to peer into the darkness. Amy’s home!
I rush to the fridge to put my plan into action. Some guys buy flowers to get a girl. I loaded up a cart full of cabbages. I hope Amy will agree to more than one night. And if she doesn’t…well, I’ll just bribe her one cabbage at a time.
Palming the vegetable that I never considered until last year, I open the door and roll it toward 2B. Will she think I’m adorable or just plain weird? A booty call? Fuck. What was I thinking?
Still on my knees, I gulp as toes painted hot pink appear right in front of me. I reach out and run a hand up a silky smooth calf. I take in every inch of her as I roll to my feet and stand. My memories suck in comparison to the real thing. I straighten until my eyes are level with her small, pert tits. She places her hand under my chin and tips my head up. Fuck, Amy is gorgeous. Big, dark brown eyes twinkle back at me.
Eat Your Heart Out: A Romance Charity Anthology Page 39
