Page 1 of Love Deep
ONE
Juniper
I can’t remember the last time I was excited about seeing a guy. I pop the lid off my new eyeliner and try to perfect the eye flick I saw an influencer on the ’Gram doing. I rarely wear makeup. It feels like one more daily chore, and I have enough of those. Tonight, I’m making an exception. The last time I had a crush, I was in high school. That was over a decade ago, and it’s been two years since my last date. But this evening, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be in the same general vicinity of the British friend of a guy I went to high school with.
Byron—who grew up in this town but moved to New York as soon as he could—has built a fancy resort on the edge of town. The grand opening for all the super wealthy VIPs is tonight. I’m not going there, even thougheighteenof my paintings now hang in the Club after Byron purchased them. Fancy parties aren’t my vibe. But Byron’s throwing an after-party at Grizzly’s, the local bar, and I’m pretty sure his friend Fisher is going to be there.
I feel like I’m sixteen, desperate to spot the quarterback in the school halls.
He might not even show.
It’s not like we’re heading out on a date.
We haven’t even met.
Fisher was introduced to a group of us at Grizzly’s when he and Byron were on their way out a few weeks ago, but it was aHey, everyone, this is Fisher, Fisher, this is everyonekinda deal. I’m not sure he even saw me, but I definitely saw him. I had to try very hard not to pass out. It wouldn’t surprise me if he turned out to be Henry Cavill’s hotter younger brother.
The first things I noticed were his broad shoulders and muscular forearms. My gaze trailed up, and I took in his dirty-blond hair and wide smile, and I shuddered. I actually shook from looking at the guy. When he slid his hand along his strong, stubbled jaw, it sent a jolt of electricity between my legs. I’ve never had such a physical reaction to just being close to a man.
But tonight… Byron says he’s going to introduce me to Fisher because Fisher might know someone who might want to buy my artwork. I think that’s what he said. Or he might know someone who wants to help me do something with my art. I don’t remember the details—just that Byron wanted to introduce me to the tall, blond British guy who made my body weak when I first saw him.
I’m good with that. Very good.
I’m not sure if it’s because Fisher’s new in town that had my body reacting the way it did. Maybe it’s because he’s British and the accent is like molten chocolate. It could be that he has the biggest, warmest smile I’ve ever seen. Tick here for all of the above. All I know is that when I first laid eyes on him, it was like I was hit with a thunderbolt andmy vagina woke from a decade-long hibernation and told me she was ready for business.
It’s not like I’m expecting to… I don’t know… fall in love or have Fisher fall in love with me. He lives in New York and is only here to celebrate the opening of Byron’s private members resort, the Colorado Club. Soon enough, he’ll be back in New York, and I’ll still be here in Star Falls. But it’s nice to remember what it feels like to be attracted to someone again. It’s been a long time.
I drop my eyeliner back in the pencil pot Riley made me for my birthday and comb my fingers through my long, wavy hair. I can’t brush it. It will just frizz. It will have to do.
An agonizing groan comes from the other side of my bedroom door, and I go out to investigate.
“Riley?” I ask as I pop my head into her bedroom.
But she’s not in there. The TV is blaring from the living room, but she’s not in there, either.
“Riley?” I call out.
“Moooom!” A strangled cry comes from the bathroom.
I rush into the bathroom to find Riley, my normally full-of-beans eight-year-old daughter hunched over the toilet bowl.
“Mom,” she cries. “I threw up.”
My stomach hits the floor, and my heart sinks down beside it. I kneel down next to her, rubbing circles on her back with my palm. “I’m here, my sweet girl.”
I place my free hand across her forehead. She’s burning hot.
“I think I’m going to throw?—”
After she throws up what’s left of her lunch, I strip off her pajamas and put her in the shower.
“Mom,why am I sick?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. We all get sick.”
I grab some shower gel and soap down her body. She barely moves. Normally, she’d be dancing about, singing a Vivian Cross song.
My mom calls out, “Where are you girls?”
