Page 1 of Best In Class
CHAPTER 1
Dom
Luna Steele is the first girl who ever kissed me. It was a sweet kiss, a peck on the cheek. She was seven and I was eight.
She’s the first girl I made love to. She was sixteen, I was seventeen.
She’s the first girl whose heart I broke. She was twenty, I was twenty-one.
I fell in love with Luna when she first kissed me.
I was in love with her when we lost our virginities to one another.
I was in love with her when I broke her heart.
Now, she’s thirty-one. I’m thirty-two.
I still love her.
Shethinksshe hates me.
“Moonbeam, what do you want me to do?” I ask her patiently.
“First, you can stop calling me Moonbeam,” she grits out. “Andsecond, you can tell Tommy that you don’t have the time to work on the Minton Memorial Hospital project.”
“But Idohave time,” I remind her, pushing back against the leather of my office chair, my hands grasping the steel arms. A necessity to stop myself from grabbing her like a caveman and having my way with her.
I came back to Savannah a year ago with one goal:to win my girl back.
She hasn’t made it easy for me.
If you want easy, Dom, swipe right! Easy is trying to climb Mount Everest in your flip-flops while Luna is trying to knee you in the nuts.
Despite the risk of bodily harm, when Tommy Minton, the patriarchal asshole, told me that he wouldn’t give the Minton Memorial Hospital project to Savannah Lace, the company Luna worked for, because he didn’t want some woman architect fucking it up—I convinced him to do it anyway by agreeing to partner with her, or in his wordssuperviseher.
She’d kill me if she thought I’d do that.
And, I won’t. Why would I? She’s an ace architect. She knows hospital code better than anyone I’ve ever worked with.
Hell, she’s going to teachme, not the other way around.
She narrows her eyes at me like she’s measuring the exact pressure required to crush my windpipe. Luna’s like that—brilliant and cold when she wants to be, and fire when she needs to be.
She wasn’t always this sharp-edged, but I suppose I honed that blade.
God, she’s beautiful.
She always was—back when she wore her hair in pigtails, and now, with it cut short to frame those sharp, unforgettable features.
She’s forever been a tomboy, always favored denim and leather over silk and pearls. But nothing—and I mean nothing—is sexier than seeing Luna ride her badass Triumph Bonneville T120 Black.
That bike is Luna.
Understated elegance.
Not too flashy.
Classic lines with a modern edge.
