Page 54 of The Stud Next Door (Frisky Business 3)
Connor squeezes my hand. “What are you thinking about?”
“Hmm. I guess I’m thinking about how crazy it is that we met.”
“Crazy how?”
“I mean, did you expect to find your child’s nanny in the upstairs apartment of your neighbor’s house? Or did you and the Wilkeses have a secret you aren’t telling me?”
“No,” he says with a chuckle. “I promise I wasn’t part of the screening process. I didn’t see you coming at all.”
“Oh?”
“Nope. And I certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with you.”
“Oh, psh. You’re telling me that the desperate dad in you didn’t fall in love with the nanny on sight that day? That sweaty, red-faced Jessa didn’t steal his heart?”
“Oh, she did.” Connor ]draws my knuckles to his lips to brush soft kisses against them. “He just didn’t want to admit it yet.”
“Well . . .” I sigh happily, looking out the window. “I’m glad we’re us now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not the desperate dad. Not the hot mess of a nanny. Us.”
“A unit,” he says. “A team.”
“A partnership.”
“A comedy duo.”
I laugh. “Is this a new game? How many ways can we say we’re together?”
“Oh, I’ve got more if you do.”
The rest of the car ride is a pleasant back-and-forth of jokes and general silliness. When we arrive at our dinner destination, I’m still recovering from his latest one-liner when I look out the window and catch sight of the green neon sign.
I gasp, my hand flying over my heart on instinct. “It’s the bistro.”
“Yeah,” Connor says, his winning smile giving me all kinds of goose bumps. “I figured . . . we don’t get a lot of time off. We could try something new, risk a little disappointment, or we could do something we’ve done before, because we know we like it.”
“We do like it,” I say, drooling at the memory of the delicious casserole we ordered last time. “And we know the wine is affordable.”
“Right. So, that sounds like a yes to me.”
Connor pulls the car around the block and grabs a ticket at the entrance to the dimly lit parking garage, an unspoken promise that we’ll be taking our time tonight at the familiar bistro. When we park, I turn to Connor with an honest question.
“Does this make us boring old people?”
Connor laughs, and the sound is so wonderful that I find myself unbuckling my seat belt so I can lean across the car console and press an adoring kiss to his full, smiling lips. He sighs against my mouth, threading his fingers through the hair at the back of my neck to prolong the moment.
“I guess I don’t mind being boring with you,” I whisper breathlessly the moment our lips part. “And this time, I brought a coat.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because there are no cheeky sex seminars to attend after we’re done with dinner and tipsy on merlot,” I sing in my best sultry voice, waggling my eyebrows and walking my fingers up his chest with each word. “So we’re gonna walk to the lake.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Connor chuckles, guiding his thumb down my cheek to caress my lower lip. “But let’s make one thing clear before we head in.”
“What’s that?”
Connor pulls me into him by the coat lapels, capturing my lips in a steamy, spine-tingling kiss that leaves me panting for more . . . for absolutely all of him. And when his kisses wander from my mouth to my cheek to the sensual line of my neck, I know for a fact dinner will be delayed.
“Life with you, Jessa McClaine, will never be boring.”
EPILOGUE
* * *
CONNOR
The candle-lit hallway just outside of the reception hall is oddly comforting at a moment like this. Inside buzzes the chatter of dozens of guests. Inside promises hours upon hours of what is required to be one of the most memorable evenings of our lives. But inside also lies a whole lot of pressure.
But outside, with Jessa nestled deeply into my arms, is comfort. Serenity. She plays with the thick platinum band on my knuckle, the very ring she slid onto my finger not an hour ago, witnessed by all of our friends and family.
I pull her hand to my lips, brushing them against the jeweled engagement ring and a thinner, daintier band of her own. It’s a stolen moment, one that will surely end as soon as the wedding party finds us. With the ceremony done and pictures taken, it’s all I can do not to whisk Jessa back home for our first night together as newlyweds.
But that will come later. First, we have to get through the reception.
“Are you ready?” she murmurs, tipping her chin to look up at me.
God, she’s so beautiful, her makeup natural and simple, with only a bit of blush to accent her already rosy cheeks. I graze my fingertips across her temple, careful not to undo the hard work of the hair stylist who finessed all of Jessa’s thick, unruly hair into an intricate knot of curls at the nape of her neck.
