Joking, joking.
Mostly.
Straightening my tie, I sit back and admire my handiwork: two totally whipped but considerably happier dudes than they were when they moved into my building a couple years ago. I’m giving myself a well-deserved pat on the back, basking in my romantic achievements, when the front door to the bar swings open, and my self-satisfied smile falls flat.
I know that neat part and smooth fall of straight chestnut hair. I know the soft pout of that full bottom lip and the tight stitch of concentration between her arched brows.
Laurel Matthews.
Probably counting the patrons to see if she needs to file a complaint over max capacity. Or she’s working up a mental flow chart on how to get to the empty table in the back corner.
God, she made sixth grade miserable. Ninth, even worse. And don’t get me started on senior year. But now she’s gone and ruined what was fast becoming my new favorite bar.
That searching, anxious stare works its way across the crowd and lands on me with a thud, the hot flash of irritation in her eyes only half of what she’s got to be seeing in mine.
I toss back half my bourbon, savoring the burn as I raise a brow in greeting.
She’s Law’s sister.
Those soft full lips form an f-bomb, and she starts searching the bar again before coming back to me.
She looks nervous, uneasy, and my attention shifts to the tool standing beside her, a smug, sort of expectant look in his eyes that are just a smidge too eager for my taste.
I don’t like him.
“Hey, isn’t that Laurel Matthews?” Abby asks, grinning, her elbow digging into my ribs.
I’m vaguely aware of Hank choking on his beer as his head spindles around to where—shit, she’s walking toward us, an inexplicable grin on her lips and that tool close on her heels.
Greg leans forward. “Uhh, how many years has it been since you guys last saw each other?”
Not enough. “Not sure. She wasn’t at the reunion. Summer after freshman year, maybe.”
Definitely. Much as it grates, I remember the white sundress she was wearing, the narrow straps over shoulders freckled by the sun.
What the hell is she doing coming over here, and why is she looking at me like that?
“Hi, guys,” she sings out, giving the rest of the group an absent wave as she circles directly to me—pressing in close, then closer still, so her arm is looped over my shoulders. “Jack, sweetie, didn’t see you at first.” She motions toward the tool. “Remember me telling you about Clarence from work?” She lets out this strained giggle that’s as unsettling as having her touch me like this. I’m a hairsbreadth from calling her brother to come take her back to whatever mental ward she’s escaped from when she gives me a pointed look that’s part pleading and part disdain, and adds, “He was starting to think I’d made you up!”
Made me up?
Well, well, well. Looks like Laurel’s gotten herself into a bind. And while it couldn’t happen to a more deserving, pricklier wet blanket, I’d be a pretty shitty friend to her brother if I left her hanging. So I do what anyone in my situation would.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I cinch her in tight and, giving her a look I can only hope has one-tenth the sap in it of Hank and Abby’s shared looks, I grin.
“Babe, why didn’t you tell me I was finally gonna meet him?” Sticking out my hand to shake and then waiting for him to notice, since he seems well and truly mesmerized by the rest of the table, I add, “Pull up a chair, man. Join us.”
Laurel’s breath catches and her head snaps around, pure murder in her eyes.
Oh, hell yes, this is going to be fun.
* * *
THE END
* * *
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Acknowledgments
With every book I put out, I become more and more convinced that writing is a team sport. While I’m the one putting the words on the page, there is an amazing group of people cheering, encouraging, supporting, hand holding, inspiring, listening, commiserating, offering advice, answering weird questions, and occasionally rescuing me along the way. I could not do this without them.
I’d like to thank Lexi Ryan, Annika Martin, Zoe York, Jessica Alcazar, Adriana Anders, Kait Nolan, Lisa Kuhne, Shari Slade, Skye Warren, Holly Mortimer, Helene Cuji, Jennifer Haymore, Samantha Potter, Give Me Books Productions, Nicole Resciniti, all the girls from Slack, the awesome PJ Party girls, my review team and eagle eye readers, the family of parents and coaches from the 12U and Peewee hockey teams, and most of all, my wonderful family.
And I’d like to thank you, the reader, for picking up the stories I love write when there are so many out there to choose from. Thank you for your emails, your reviews, and your heartfelt enthusiasm when you’re telling a friend about the book you just devoured.
Thank you—I love you guys!!
* * *
((hugs))
Mira
MIRA'S BOOKSHELF
BACK TO YOU
HARD CRUSH (BACK TO YOU, BOOK 1, Hank & Abby)
DIRTY PLAYER (BACK TO YOU, BOOK 2, Greg & Julia)
HOT FRICTION (BACK TO YOU, BOOK 3, Jack & Laurel)
DARE TO LOVE
TRUTH OR DARE (Dare To Love, Book 1, Molly & Ty)
TOUCH & GO (Dare To Love, Book 2, Ava & Sam)
NOW & THEN (Dare To Love, Book 3, Brynn & Ford)
THE WEDDING DATE
MAY THE BEST MAN WIN (The Wedding Dates, Book 1, Jase & Emily)
THE WEDDING DATE BARGAIN (The Wedding Dates, Book 2, Max & Sarah)
JUST THIS ONCE (The Wedding Dates, Book 3, Sean & Molly)
THE DECOY DATE (The Wedding Dates, Book 4, Brody & Gwen)
WAKING UP
WAKING UP MARRIED (Waking Up, Book 1, Megan & Connor)
WAKING UP PREGNANT (Waking Up, Book 2, Darcy & Jeff)
UNCONNECTED NOVELS
ONCE IS NEVER ENOUGH (Nichole & Garrett)
NEVER STAY PAST MIDNIGHT (Levi & Elise)
THE S BEFORE EX (Ryan & Claire)
FRONT PAGE AFFAIR (Payton & Nate)
WILD FLING OR A WEDDING RING (Cali & Jake)
ABOUT MIRA
Hard core romantic, stress baker, and housekeeper non-extraordinaire, Mira Lyn Kelly is the USA TODAY bestselling author of more than a dozen sizzly love stories with over a million readers worldwide. Growing up in the Chicago area, she earned her degree in Fine Arts from Loyola University and met the love of her life while studying abroad in Rome, Italy… only to discover he’d been living right around the corner from her back home. Having spent her twenties working and playing in the Windy City, she’s now settled with her husband in rural Minnesota, where their four amazing children and two ridiculous dogs provide an excess of action and entertainment. When she isn’t reading, writing, or running the kids around, she loves watching movies and the Chicago Blackhawks, blabbing with the girls, and cooking with her friends and family.
AUTHOR LINKS
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Mira Lyn Kelly, Dirty Player
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