by LK Farlow
Table of Contents
Dedication
Synopsis
Other Titles By LK Farlow
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
What’s Next From LK Farlow
Excerpt Of Best Laid Plans
Excerpt Of Coming Up Roses
About the Author
Acknowledgments
© 2019 by LK Farlow
All rights reserved.
Cover Design & Interior Formatting: Jersey Girl Design | Juliana Cabrera
Cover Photograph: Lindee Robinson Photography
Editing: Librum Artis Editorial Services | Gray Ink Editing
Proofreading: Deaton Author Services
www.authorlkfarlow.com
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
To my Phoobs.
I know sometimes I’m a little (okay, fine, a lot) crazy, but I always have the best of intentions when it comes to you.
synopsis
Nate Reynolds is everything I shouldn’t want. Aside from being my best friend’s older brother, he’s a cocky, smooth-talking, panty-dropping playboy of a cop. And yet, I’m helplessly drawn to him.
His charm and good looks reduce me to a fumbling, mumbling teenaged version of myself, which pretty much guarantees that nothing will ever come of my silly crush.
Until the night of my best friend’s wedding.
Jenny Jones is the definition of innocence. She’s also my little sister’s best friend, making her completely off limits. She’s a forever kind of girl with hearts in her eyes, where I’ve always been more of a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy.
Until a night spent between the sheets with her has me questioning everything I thought I wanted.
I tried my hardest to stay away, but you know what they say about the best intentions . . .
other titles by lk farlow
Best Laid Plans
Rebel Heart
Southern Roots Series
Coming Up Roses
An Uphill Battle
Weather the Storm
chapter one
Nate
“You ready?” I ask my best friend, smirking at my reflection as I straighten my bow tie in the mirror.
Yeah, that’s right. A bow tie, and a vest…the things we do for the people we love. But today’s the day he marries Natalie—my little sister. And this vest is far more comfortable than my Kevlar, so I suppose it’s worth it. Not to mention, Tatum, my adorable as fuck almost four-year-old niece, begged us to wear them. And if there’s one thing on this earth I can’t resist, it’s her pouty lip. Kid’s got power.
Alden doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, man. I’m ready. More than ready.”
I run a hand through my hair and drop down into the chair next to him. Some days it weirds me out that he’s not only marrying my little sister but is also my niece’s father, a fact only brought to light within these last few months. But as I sit here with him, all relaxed and calm, it strikes me just how much he means it. He’s completely ready to spend the rest of his life with Natalie.
Then again, it doesn’t really surprise me. I’ve known Alden most of my life, and the dude’s always put one hundred percent into everything he’s passionate about, and my little sister is definitely at the top of that list. Even if it is a bit weird for me, I’m thrilled for them.
Love like that doesn’t exist for everyone, that’s for damn sure. And truthfully, I couldn’t think of two more deserving people. They fought hard for their happy ending—they put in the work and fucking earned it.
Once upon a time, I figured I’d find me a nice girl and settle down—you know, way on down the line. Then she happened. Or, hell, maybe I happened. Either way, I saw the light. Moral of the story, I’m not long-term material. So, nah, there’s no wedded bliss in my future. Only lots of great sex—the no-strings kind—and that’s just fine by me. I still get the intimacy that all humans crave without all the cards and flowers and oh my God, you missed our two-week anniversary bullshit.
It’s a total win…at least, that’s what I tell myself.
I’m sure I sound a bit jaded, and hell, maybe I am, but it’s with good reason and fully in the better interest of the other party. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for them—truly. You’d be hard pressed to find a couple more perfect than those two. They’re that couple; moonbeams and rainbows and little cartoon hearts shoot out of their eyes every time they look at each other. If I was anyone else, it’d probably make me sick.
Another bonus of the day is seeing Jenny, Natalie’s fine-as-fuck friend, all gussied up. Actually, scratch that. I hope that Nat picked a burlap sack for her to wear, because being close to her while she’s dressed to kill all night might actually kill me.
Jenny’s loud, opinionated, and brash—a total spitfire. Until I come around, that is. In my presence, she gets all clammed up and nervous. It’s cute, really. Fuck. Did I just call the girl cute? What am I, twelve?
Alden and I are both seemingly lost to our own thoughts, and a comfortable silence stretches out, blanketing the room. Then Carlos—Alden’s second in command at the café he and Natalie run together—pops into the room. “It’s almost time. You ready?”
Alden smirks. “That seems to be a pretty popular question today. But, yeah, I’m ready. More than. It honestly feels like I’ve been waiting an eternity.”
Carlos claps him on the back. “Glad to hear it. Mrs. Reynolds said five minutes till it’s time. Which means we need a celebratory shot.” He crosses the room to where the bar cart is stashed in the corner and pours us each a shot of spiced rum. Alden and I stand and join him. He passes us each a small glass before raising his own in the air. We follow, lifting ours as well. “To finding the person who shows you how to be happy, and being smart enough to keep them.”
We clink glasses and down the shots, the warmth of the rum leaves a trail, settling in my gut, almost like a premonition. But before I can overthink it, Alden bursts out laughing. “Dude. Did you just make a fucking Trolls reference?”
“Maybe.” Carlos shrugs. “It seemed appropriate.”
“Tatum would approve for sure,” Alden replies, a wide grin splitting his cheeks. “Now, c’mon, it’s time to go claim my wife.”
I sling an arm around his neck and pull him close. “Chill out, caveman.”
He laughs and shoves away from me. “Just wait, tough guy. One day, some girl is gonna lay you out flat on your ass.” I waggle my brows and Alden shakes his head. “Not like that. I mean, the way Natalie did me.”
I roll my eyes and head toward the door. “Not gonna happen, bro.”
Except when I open the door, I’m met with the vision of Jenny in her bridesmaid dress. And it’s not a sack. Not by a long shot. I stagger back as I take her in. She’s a goddamn vision. The offending piece of fabric only covers her right shoulder, leaving the left deliciously bare. The chiffon material drapes and crisscrosses over her chest, hugging her breasts together in a way that makes me imagine my hands there instead, before floating down in swish, ending right above her knees. And the color, my God, don’t even get me started. It’s about a shade darker than her skin and slightly rosy, leaving me to wonder if her nipples are a similar hue.
I shamelessly rake my eyes over her, groaning when her fuck-me heels come into view. She turns at the sound of it and instantly a pretty blush stains her cheeks. I bet it would travel down her neck and across her chest if she could read my thoughts right about now.
“Oh!” she gasps, doing a slow perusal of me in my suit. If the glint in her eye is anything to go by, she likes what she sees. Bet she’d like what’s beneath it even more.
I shoot her a cocky wink. “Oh, yourself. You ready to walk down the aisle with me?” The impact of my words doesn’t hit until Jenny sways in her sky-high heels. Fuck. I pretty much implied it was us getting married. I scrub a hand over my face while Alden and Carlos snicker at my fumble.
“Sure,” she whispers, stepping closer to me.
“I’m gonna run and make sure we’re good to go,” Carlos says before turning to Jenny. “Have you seen Tatum?”
“She’s in the bridal suite with Natalie and the grandmothers.”
“Good, good. Alden, head on out to the altar.” I’m not really sure how Carlos became the event coordinator, but dude’s taking his job seriously—and he’s doing a damn good job. “When the music starts, Tatum will walk first; wait until she reaches the midway point and then y’all will follow arm-in-arm. Got it?”
I give him a mock salute. “Got it.”
He rolls his eyes before setting off for the chapel, leaving Jenny and me decidedly alone.
Against my better judgment, I drag the pads of my index and middle fingers over Jenny’s bare shoulder and down her arm, causing her to suck in a sharp breath. “You look real good, Jenny.”
She nibbles on the corner of her juicy, bottom lip, and I’m struck with the desire to do the same. “You do too,” she whispers, her voice as breathless as I feel.
What in the hell is happening here? Women—no matter how smoking hot—do not make me breathless. Especially long-term girls like Jenny Jones. She practically has engagement rings in her eyes as she bats her long, inky lashes at me.
I take a pointed step back, desperate for space. Space to clear my head—to get out from under whatever kind of good-girl-voodoo spell she has me under. Swear to God, it’s always the good ones. They’re all doe-eyed and sweet words until you get them in bed. Then they’re all scratching nails and filthy talk. Which begs the question, is Jenny a little minx in bed or is she as vanilla as the frosting on Natalie and Alden’s wedding cake? Shit. No amount of space can help when these types of thoughts keep sneaking in.
And really, when did I start seeing Jenny as sexually desirable? Sure, she’s always been a looker—I mean, I’m not blind. But, she’s so far from my type it’s not even funny. I like them tall, leggy, and—most importantly—only interested in one night. And everything about Jenny screams ‘til death do us part. I guess that makes sense though, because the thought of dipping my wick in the same pot for the rest of my life is basically a death sentence in and of itself.
I’m once again shaken from my thoughts. This time it’s Jenny tugging on my arm. It sounds crazy, but I swear I can feel the sear of her touch through my clothing. “What?” I ask, my tone harsher than needed. I’m on edge, and her touching me isn’t helping.
She drops her gaze, replying to her feet instead of me. “It’s…we missed our cue. We need to go.”
Stiffly, I nod once, linking my arm with hers before escorting her down the aisle.
chapter two
Jenny
You know that feeling you get deep in your belly when your crush pays attention to you for the first time? Well, Nate’s arm in mine is like that, only a thousand times more intense. It’s as if an entire swarm of bees have taken up residence inside of my body, because I am positively about to buzz right out of my skin.
I know these thoughts are childish and silly, but in my eyes, Nate Reynolds is the perfect man—he’s the ideal, the guy I compare every other potential suitor to. Which is beyond absurd, because he hardly knows I exist. I’m literally nothing more than his little sister’s best friend, who happens to show up at family events from time to time.
Add in the way he ghosted his fingertips over my shoulder while telling me I looked good, and yeah, I’m a goner.
It’s frustrating as hell. Around everyone else, I’m outgoing—outspoken even. But the minute he’s within a ten-foot radius, I transform into this mumbling, bumbling version of myself that can hardly compose full sentences. The man’s hotness renders me mute—how can I win his affection if I can’t even form coherent and thought-provoking sentences?
Truly, the universe is cruel. If the aforementioned issues weren’t enough to prove it, the way he looks in his suit really drives the nail in. With some guys, their clothing wears them, all ill-fitting and baggy. But Nate…Nate wears the bejeezus out of his—every item looks tailor-made for his tall, muscular frame. From jeans to his uniform—mmm, drool—to this damn suit, he looks runway or photoshoot ready. And don’t even get me started on the bow tie.
Thankfully, our trip to the altar is a short one. Even still, for five out of those fifteen steps, visions of me dressed in white and him waiting for me raced through my mind. Those thoughts were unwelcome and unwarranted, mind you—let’s just chalk them up to my blood sugar being off. I may have a crush, but I am in no way, shape, or form delusional. I don’t fancy myself in love with him, or secretly think we’re going to get married and make little police officer babies. It’s more the equivalent of doodling our names together in a heart in the margin of my notebook—harmless. Innocent even.
Well, mostly innocent. You know, aside from the late-night fantasies when I’m feeling lonely, and visions of him shirtless and sweaty keep me company, along with my B.O.B. There’s just something about man sweat. But, still, that’s completely natural too. I think. Right? Either way, it’s still harmless, because he’ll never know, and I’ll certainly never act on it. I mean, I’m not even in the friend zone. Nope, I’m in the little sister’s friend zone, and that’s a hellacious type of limbo very few have ever passed through to the other side.
At the end of the aisle, we go our separate ways, with me taking my place next to where Natalie will stand, and him at Alden’s side.
Natalie and Alden’s daughter is next in the procession. But in true Tatum fashion, she doesn’t walk down the aisle, she dances. She struts her stuff and shakes her little booty as she makes her way toward us, haphazardly tossing flower petals as she goes.
Knowing Tatum as well as I do, I recognize this little jig as her happy dance. She is hands down the cutest kid ever.
At the end of the ai
sle, she pauses, looking from her dad to the guests, to the remaining petals and back again. Little cutie hesitates so long that the music changes, signaling it’s time for the bride.
When Natalie and Mr. Reynolds enter the room, a collective gasp can be heard—Tatum’s being the loudest of all. “Mama looks like a princess for reals,” she whisper-shouts, causing a chorus of laughter to ring out, lightening the emotional moment.
She’s not wrong either. In all my life, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful bride. She’s glowing and radiates joy. Which, if you ask me, is exactly how a woman should look on the day she says I do.
“Tater Tot, what are you doing?” Natalie whispers when she makes it to the front.
“You just look so pretty, Mama.”
Natalie’s dad leans down and presses a kiss to his daughter’s cheek before taking his seat.
“Thank you, sweet girl. You do, too.” Natalie steps forward and crouches down to her daughter’s level—a feat in the heels she’s in—and wraps her in a big hug. “You wanna finish those petals off so your daddy and I can do this thing?”
Tatum’s eyes widen as if she’s only now realizing she didn’t complete her job. Truthfully, I think we’re all just now realizing it. Natalie one hundred percent stole the show when she entered the room.
Instead of replying right away, Tatum takes her time. She glances down to the remaining rose petals and then over her shoulder to Alden before finally landing her gaze back on Nat. “Y’all gonna kiss?” she asks, scrunching up her little button nose.
“Yeah, baby, we’re gonna kiss.”
Tatum rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Yuck.” Alden laughs and attempts to cover it with a cough, but his little girl isn’t buying it. “Fiiiine.”
We all burst out laughing—even the stodgy officiant—when she flips her basket over, dumping the remaining petals on the floor.
I keep my gaze focused on the two of them, unwilling to chance a look over toward Nate. Knowing my luck, I’d get so swept up in his yumminess that I’d miss a cue and everyone would catch me drooling—no thanks.
