Page 1 of Unexpected Forever
ONE
charley
My momalways says I’m going to be late to my own funeral.
My mom is rarely wrong.
And if I’m late to the one job I have right now, my brother Aidan will make my funeral a reality.
I have one singular goal.
To get the brother of my best friend—who also happens to be Aidan’s girlfriend—to her surprise birthday party I’ve been planning for weeks.
Her famous, hot as hell brother I might have a teeny-tiny crush on.
A man I’ve watched play professional baseball for the Florida Bull Sharks on TV for years and had some naughty celebrity fantasies where he is the star.
I ignore my racing pulse and quickly make my way down the hallway of the inn, stopping in front of room seven.
“Tonight, he’s just Megan’s brother. That’s it. Not Nate freaking Gentry. I need this job. And you’re on a man sabbatical anyway.”
Squaring my shoulders, I rap my knuckles against the door.
When a few seconds tick by without an answer, I lean forward, listening for any sign of life beyond the thick wood.
I check the time on my phone and let out a huff. I’m on time for once. Where is this guy?
Before I can lift my hand to announce my arrival again, the door flies open.
And my jaw drops.
Damn.
Did I say Nate Gentry is hot?
Sinfully, makes-me-want-to-sell-my-soul-to-the-devil hot is more like it.
Especially in nothing but a towel riding low on his hips.
Words and my ability to speak leave my brain as I watch droplets of water cling to his dark hair and tanned skin. My throat is dry as desert sand, and those small beads of water are like a mirage.
The man is large and in charge, all muscle without an ounce of fat. His shoulders look like they could carry the weight of the world.
Black ink in some sort of diamond-like design covers half of one pec. A wide chest tapers down to abs and a sexy V that makes my mouth water.
He clears his throat and my gaze snaps to his. His brows are drawn down, his mouth a flat line.
Busted.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
His deep-voice makes me tingle, but the sharp tone in it could freeze hell over.
I swallow, trying to find words. When was the last time a guy hadmetongue-tied? Working in a bar over the years taught me how to handle all types of guys. They don’t fluster me; just ask anyone in Madison Ridge.
Then again, most guys aren’t Nate “Iceman” Gentry, either.
Seriously, get a grip, Reynolds.
