Page 16 of Enticing

“No can do,” I tell him, taunting. “It’s Thanksgiving, remember? And let’s not forget whose fault it is either. You and Dad are the ones otherwise occupied tomorrow. You’re the reason we’re having dinner today instead of sleeping in. Some of us had games last night.” I kick his leg. “Dick.”

Okay, so maybe I’m the one being a dick, but I’m sore from last night’s game, and I’m tired from tossing and turning instead of sleeping because I can’t seem to get a beautiful blonde out of my head.

“Fuck off, Leo. I’m up.” He sits up and rubs his eyes. “My head hurts like a bitch.”

I look around the room, less than impressed.

I know my grandfather has been going through chemo hell lately, and we all know it’s screwing with Callen, but this seriously isn’t like him.

“Just guessing, but it might have something to do with the empty bottle of Don Julio. Maybe if you’d get the fuck up and get showered, I wouldn’t have to be a babysitter.Seriously, man.I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you look like dog shit.” I sniff him, and oh yeah... he smells like it too. “Dude, you smell worse than you look. Don’t make me shove your ass in a cold shower.”

He stands and stares at me, like he’s contemplating hitting me. “I’d like to see you try, man.”

Yup. Knew that was coming.

“Leo,” my Uncle Cooper growls from the front door.

When did he get here?

I turn to ask him that when he stops me. “Leo, head over to Grandpa’s. I’ll get Callen moving.”

I raise a brow and Uncle Cooper nods. I feel like I just passed go and got to collect two hundred dollars. One thing off my list. “Whatever you say, Uncle Coop. He’s salty as shit today. Maybe you can figure out what the hell is going on with him. The rest of us gave up.” I take one last look at him and shake my head. “Take a fucking shower.”

Addie

The delicious smell of pumpkin cream and sugar makes my mouth water as Bellamy stirs her latte next to me at Sweet Temptations. We both sit not so patiently across from Caitlin, waiting for her to spill the beansabout her date that was a non-date but really was a date if you ask either of us.

“So... how was it?” Bellamy asks as she elbows me, pulling my attention from my MacBook, which thankfully, I’ve had my head buried in since I put the girls to bed last night.

Thank God for inspiration hitting.

The fact that it came after Leo Sinclair left my house is slightly infuriating, but I can ignore that if it means I get chapters written.

That my hero smells like him and I may or may not have changed his eye color to a beautiful blue, the same color of the palest summer sky, is just a coincidence... and that’s a hill I’ll die on.

Inspiration is inspiration, and I’ll take it however I can get it. I go back to my couple’s meet-cute and wonder just how long my heroine will be able to resist my newest hottie, cursing myself for signing this book deal.

Deadlines are soul crushers.

I’m vaguely aware of Cait and Bellamy arguing about her non-date when I hear, “I just had to dress him.”

“Wait.” I pop my head up from my minty-green MacBook, intrigued. “He was undressed, and itwasn’ta date?”

My mind immediately goes to all the ways a hero can end up naked in a story without it being a date and wonder if I can use any of them in this story.

Naked meet-cute—Hmmm?

I add it to my ideas doc and ignore Bellamy as she pats the top of my head like I’m a little simple and shrug her off. “Maybe if you’d come out of the cave every once in a while, you too could undress a date instead of just writing about it.”

“Listen.” I break off a piece of muffin and glare. “Some of us work in a hospital. Others have a writing cave. You have surgeries, and I have a book due in three weeks that’s notfinished. You know that makes me nuts.” I spin my hair up in a bun and shove a pen through it, locking it in place, a nervous habit I picked up years ago that I can’t seem to shake. “And I’d be happy to date if a single guy I meet is interesting enough to bother dating.”

Okay, so maybe that’s a lie, albeit a tiny little white lie.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever be willing to trust a man enough with my girls and myself to date again. But these beautiful, strong women who decided the crazy, pregnant, single mom who moved to town last year needed to be part of their inner circle don’t need to know just how weak I truly am. Nobody does. I’ll keep that to myself.

“I mean, standards do complicate things,” Bellamy agrees, and I roll my eyes.

That they do. Not quite as much as fear or a lack of trust. But they’re on the list too.

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