Page 58 of The Love Losers

I like her. Alot.

The pleasure of making her happy is like no high I’ve ever experienced, even in my high school days when I thought I might have a chance at avoiding my father’s legacy by throwing parties while pretending not to feel the yoke he’d put around my neck and the time bomb I held in my hands.

Then we’d finished the ride, and Jeeves had rushed toward us with that stool, meaning I had to stop being hard quickly. So I’d thought unpleasant things before I dismounted—the smelly uber and the police station and that time I’d unintentionally found a file of erotica stories my mother had written under the pseudonym R. Dahlia.

Not thirty seconds later, Nina had come out of the barn with Wilson, which had been very helpful in terms of hard-on killing and much less conducive to me being in a good mood.

I’ve been avoiding them.

Wilson has texted me several times over the last couple of weeks, as if he and I are still buddies—

Anthonnnnn-yyyyyy. Hey man, let’s get a beer and listen to some tunes.

Want to go bowling? I haven’t been bowling in a while. Bowling is the SHIT, is it not? I’ve got this bomb bowling ball. I’m calling her Betsy after that woman I met in Tijuana that time. Remember I told you about her?

Hey, I have this kickass idea. Are you interested in investing?

This may be a weird question, but are you mad at me? We’re cool, right? Didn’t we iron it all out?

From my perspective, we’d stopped being buddies my Sophomore year of college when he’d nearly burned down his fraternity house and then blamed it on the cleaning staff.

Had he been at my engagement party? Assuredly. Because he is part of a group of friends I’ve stayed in touch with, with whom I occasionally do business, and despite having the intellect of a rotten piece of fruit, he is wealthy and connected.

Perfect for Nina.

Nina seemed annoyed to see me, as if she didn’t know perfectly well that I stable my horses here. Maybe she’d seen the preparations for Sweetcheeks before she left on her ride—and now she knows who I went to all that trouble for.

So I wasn’t surprised by the note of displeasure in her voice when she asked about my “little friend.”

But my nerve endings were instantly fried when Rosie told her with a straight face, “I’m not his friend. I’m his lover.”

Hearing that word from her—lover—dragged out and sultry, snapped something inside of me. It was the last of my self-restraint, which had been tested for two weeks. Because I’d learned that to be around Rosie was to want more of her. I wanted to see if she tasted the way she smells—like honey and spice. And if she moaned the way she laughs, putting her whole being to it, each peal of laughter making her eyes crinkle and her breasts bounce.

So I gave into the impulse, tipping my head down to taste her pink lips…

The feeling that washes through me is transformative. It’s enough for me to know instantly that this is right, where so many things have been wrong. The kiss confirms it, just like we’d agreed it might.

Her lips are soft but firm against mine, and the arm she’d wrapped around my waist lifts to my hair and then brushes the collar of my shirt, making me laugh into her mouth. I wore it for her, and sheknowsI wore it for her.

Then there’s a cleared throat, and Rosie pulls away from me. I watch her for a long moment, taking in the way her pulse is fluttering in her neck, her eyes aglow, before I glance at Jeeves, whose cheeks are red.

He seems amused though, maybe even pleased for me.

“Sir, I’ll take Sweetcheeks back to the stables now.”

“Thanks, Jeeves,” I say, pulling out my wallet and taking out a hundred for him. I can practically feel Nina seething at me—as if she still wants to rip me a new one for being an extravagant tipper even though my money is now assuredly not “ours.”

“Thank you, Master Smith,” he says, returning to his role. “And you, Princess Rosie.”

She feigns a curtsy in her leggings.

“You both have a Merry Christmas.”

Then he retreats with Sweetcheeks, probably very happy to avoid whatever scene is about to unfold, because Nina and Wilson are still frozen in place, watching us.

Nina looks like she’d enjoy burning the stables down, and possibly the whole city while she’s at it.

Wilson strides forward, then holds out his hand for a high five. He’s beaming at me like he just won the lottery, and I was the one who cut his reward check.

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