When I do make it out, I hear, “Are you fucking insane?”
Okay. She’s mad. And she doesn’t sound drunk at all. She’s got her keys wedged between her fingers like claws and I instantly like this girl.
No preamble. Just comes out swinging. She’s tiny and ferocious. I feel like Peter Pan when he gets reamed by Tinkerbell.
“Easy, Tink.” I offer her a smile and lift my hands in surrender.
“Tink?” Her voice goes even louder.
I wave a hand over her casually. “Yeah, you’ve got this whole angry little Tinkerbell vibe happening. I dig it.” I let my gaze trace her body for only a moment, not wanting to border on leering. But hey, fair is fair after the way she gawked at the gas station.
“You’re fucking nuts, you know that?” She starts back in. “You drive like an asshole behind me for a solid ten minutes, and now you follow me here? To . . . to . . . check me out and compare me to a Disney pixie?” Her arms flap angrily, and her dainty little face twisted up in fury. A look like that could incinerate a man on the spot.
But not me.
“I think she’s actually a fairy. And for the record, driving twenty below the speed limit is also dangerous and could kill someone. Mostly me. From boredom,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Her eyes widen almost comically, a sure sign that I failed to lighten the mood at all. “It’s dark and snowy! I don’t know the area. There could be wildlife! Driving slowly is safe so long as a back-forty hillbilly isn’t riding my ass in his small-dick truck, flashing his high beams at me.”
My lips clamp down against each other.
Fuck.
I really like this girl.
“I hear that if you want your ass ridden, a small dick is the way to go. So maybe I’m your guy.”
My dick isn’t small. But I will happily make sacrifices to land a good joke. Only a small-dicked dude would miss this opportunity.
I shouldn’t have said it, but the look of pure shock that paints her pretty features makes it all worth it. She’s so fired up; I just can’t help myself. Play with fire and I’ll be there to pour gasoline on it for you.
Her hand shoots up between us. “I’m married. You fucking pig. Now leave.” Her hand flips out firmly, pointing down the driveway.
I just shrug. “Married for now, maybe.”
I’m persistent. And this girl wasn’t staring at me like a married woman. Not a happy one anyway.
It’s Rhett’s voice that draws our attention to the sprawling wrap-around porch attached to the huge ranch house. “Yeah, don’t worry, Winter. We’re definitely gonna free you from that husband and bury him in the back field. It’ll be like that Dixie Chicks song. Rob is the new Earl.”
Winter. Winter, as in Summer’s sister? Fuck, that’s a stupid combination of names for two sisters. They should hate their parents instead of each other, if you ask me.
I glance back at the woman before me, about six feet away. Everyone’s described her as cold and distant. I’ve heard the stories. The drama. They’ve made her sound like some sort of criminal mastermind.
All I see is a firecracker who needs my help to work out some aggression.
And I’m not mad at helping her with that. Not even a little bit. I’m very philanthropic that way.
Winter rubs her temples like she has a headache. I consider offering her an aspirin from my truck, or an orgasm. I hear those help too.
“You’re lucky you make my little sister so happy, Eaton,” she says, sounding utterly exhausted.
Rhett hums good-naturedly, his eyes taking on that melty drugged look he gets when people so much as mention Summer. But he doesn’t address that, instead he says, “Theo’s just a baby though. You can’t corrupt him, Winter.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not a baby. I’m twenty-six.”
Rhett scoffs. “No, you aren’t. You’re twenty-two.”
Good god. Does he really think he knows my age better than I do?
“Dude. I was twenty-two when I first met you on the circuit. I’ve gotten older. You’re doing the same thing my mom does with her pets. They hit a certain age and then she says that they’re that same age until one day they just die.”
He chuckles. “Well, I’ll be. You’re like that store with the skimpy dresses. Forever 22.”
I prop my hands on my hips and sigh with a bemused twist to my mouth. “Yeah. You’re definitely getting old. That store is called Forever 21.”
Rhett just waves me off. “Whatever. I only know about the skimpy dresses.”
“Are you two done? I need a drink if I’m going to stay here all night,” Winter cuts in, clearly irritated by the route our conversation has taken. Though Rhett’s interruption did successfully interrupt our little spat.
Sadly. I was kind of enjoying sparring with her. She can hold her own.
“Ah, yes, Winter, meet my protege Theo Silva. Theo, meet Doctor Winter Hamilton, my future sister-in-la—“
“Winter Valentine,” she interrupts him with a stiff correction.
“For now,” I add, winking at her and getting off on prodding her far more than I should.
She gives me the most dramatic eye roll and starts walking in my direction. I stick my hand out—because Mama raised a gentleman—but she just walks past, glaring at me with eyes bright blue like the bottom of a flame. I turn my head to hold her gaze as she draws even with me, shoulder to shoulder, and then I swipe my hand through my hair in the cheesiest way possible.
And wink. The same way I did at the gas station. Our little secret.
“Call your dog off, Eaton.” She keeps walking, only addressing Rhett, like I’m not even here. But goddamn, I love a challenge.
I turn with a loud, “Woof!” as I watch her petite frame slip into the bright light of the warm, bustling house.
Rhett is laughing. At me. Not with me. “You’re an idiot, Theo.”
I shake my head. “Dude. I think I’m in love with your sister-in-law. She’s so fiery.”
Now it’s Rhett shaking his head, like he knows something I don’t. I follow him into the house because I want to know more.
I want to know more about Winter Valentine.
Like when that divorce is happening.
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Acknowledgments
Younger Elsie dated some hockey players. But none were a Jasper Gervais. And I really feel like I righted some wrongs in this world by creating him. It’s just proof that book boyfriends are often a superior breed of man, because, to me, Jasper is perfect.
In all seriousness, I hope you loved him and Sloane as much as I do. Because these two characters really got their hooks into me. I felt every feeling and every heartache, all the longing—I felt all the love. It wasn’t an easy book to write. But it was consuming. I’m not sure I’ve ever had such a visceral experience to writing a book, so this story will forever be special for me.
To my readers, thank you. You continue to blow me away. Where would I be without you? Your excitement is infectious and your passion is inspiring. I love writing stories for you. Knowing there are people in the world who are so invested in the things I make up in my head is truly humbling.
To my husband and son, thank you for giving me the space to be creative—to be my own person. To disappear into other worlds. To work until I can’t see straight just to hit a deadline. I don’t think I could do this without my two boys being as proud of me as the two of you are. I am beyond blessed to have you both.