He sighed, content to wake up next to such a sweet view every morning. She usually outslept him, but not on this particular day of the year. A grin teased at the corner of his mouth, and his chest warmed at the thought that she’d gotten some good sleep.
Aaron covered a yawn and propped up on an arm, eyes drifting first to the clock on the nightstand and then to the bare shoulder peeking out from under their shared covers. Kennedy’s skin had always been too tempting to resist; he leaned forward and gave her a light kiss, knowing that no matter how deeply she slept, the gentle touch would give her goosebumps and cause the corners of her mouth to lift.
“You should wake up,” he said in her ear, his voice still groggy from sleep, but he was ready to take advantage of the little bit of time they had before they had to really get up. Their train was leaving in just two hours, and he knew Kennedy was notorious for always arriving at least fifteen minutes early to anything.
The small smile on her lips widened, and she playfully groaned and shook her head, burrowing into the comfort of her pillow.
“I’ll make it worth your while…” he teased, his teeth gently tugging at her earlobe before she lifted her shoulder and cut him off. Chuckles rose from his gut, and he grabbed the comforter and whipped it off her body.
“Ughnnnn!” she whined, lazily reaching for the warmth, her top half completely bare while her bottom was only donning a pair of black lace panties that had Aaron harder than a rock in a second flat.
He batted her arm away, pushing up and covering her body with his, knowing that the scorching heat that still buzzed between them even after so long together would warm her up in no time.
“Good morning, darlin’,” he teased, pinning her lazy arms above her head. Her sleepy eyes narrowed, and she blew her bangs away from her face to glare at him more effectively. The smile that was there in her dark green irises told him, though, that she wasn’t too upset with their current position.
“It’s too early,” she said, her bottom lip jutting out in an adorable pout. “I need sleep.”
He let one of her arms drop, his tease somewhat disappearing when he asked, “Did you get some, though?” His hand skated down her ribs and rested on her hip. Her grouchy look evaporated, a smile crossing over her lips.
“I did.” She brought her free hand to his arm and gripped his biceps, the ring on her finger pinching his skin. It was a little big on her and swiveled in her sleep. Aaron often teased her about how he should have gotten her a less lethal diamond.
She rolled her hips, the thin fabric between them catching softly as they rubbed against each other. Aaron’s mind short-circuited, and he instantly lost the upper hand.
“I think it had something to do with you tiring me out,” she said, her just-awake voice low and seductive, something Aaron liked to get out of her in their mornings together.
“You want me to tire you out for the train ride?” he asked, waggling his brow. “You can sleep the whole way there.”
Her laughter jostled her soft stomach against his, making his blood rush through his veins. It was a beautiful comfort that she could cause as powerful reactions in him now as she had when he first fell for her.
She mock sighed, but the wicked look in her eyes told him that she had every intention of taking him up on the offer. He grinned, leaned down, and kissed her soft, full lips, his heart pounding as she matched his every touch and started pulling him in for more. A laugh fell from his lips as she pushed him to his back and pinned his hands above his head.
Maybe she’d be the one tiring him out this time.
Kennedy
Kennedy watched the world pass by in a blur, her fingers against her chest as her heart thudded thickly with every passing moment. Her mind was too busy for sleep, and Aaron’s must have been too since he was just as quiet, but nowhere near taking advantage of the neck pillow she’d packed for him.
The announcement was made for their next stop, and Kennedy inhaled deeply, offering up a close-mouthed smile at her husband as he spun the neck pillow in his hands before handing it over to her. She rolled her eyes and snapped it to her purse strap. Aaron took hold of her hand the moment it was free and laced their fingers together.
“Doing okay?” he asked, his beautiful eyes filling with genuine concern. She mulled over his question, wanting to answer honestly. Her heart was thrumming, but not in a panic or sorrow, more of anticipation to see everyone…all their friends, their family. This day was always so hard for her, but…it was getting better every year. And this year was no different.
Her brow twitched inward and she let out a small, surprised laugh. “Yeah, actually.” She hitched her purse up on her shoulder. “I’m excited to talk to Chelsea.”
Aaron’s shoulders shook with his amusement. “I’m preparing for her to take you away from me the second we get there.”
“We’ve got the long drive into town,” she countered with a teasing smile.
“With my brother.”
“You can’t be selfish with me, you know.”
He bumped his forehead into hers. “All too well.”
Her smile faded, and she nudged him back, brow furrowing as she searched his eyes. She knew he was teasing, but she worried that he was showing one of the rare moments when he felt second tier to her first loving relationship, and she had to quiet those worries as soon as she noticed them.
“I love you,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Even today.”
His grin grew and his fingers squeezed hers before he gave her an equally loving and soft kiss.
“I love you.”
The train slowed as it pulled into the station, and they held on to each other as they stepped onto the platform. A familiar, friendly face was waiting for them, and Kennedy let Aaron get the first hug from his brother before she dove into his arms.
“Baby sis!” Austin said as his bear arms swallowed her whole. Her voice was muffled against his chest as she greeted him back, and as soon as he let her go she took a much-needed breath of air. Austin grinned wide, eyes flicking between the two of them. “Welcome home.”
He helped Aaron carry their things to the Porter’s Garage van he still managed to keep running after all these years. Kennedy jumped in the front, settling in for the drive to Sweet Tea’s B&B. Perhaps one day they would make this their home, she thought as the brothers climbed in and Austin started down the road. It wasn’t something Aaron and she had discussed, but maybe after this trip they would. After all, this wasn’t just Jared’s childhood, which she knew was part of the reason why they chose to live elsewhere; it was also Aaron’s.
A few hours later, Austin dropped them off at the B&B, where Chelsea greeted them both with enthusiastic screams and giant hugs. Daniel had offered to take their luggage—which really meant his boys would; they were now so big Kennedy barely recognized them as they towered over her—but Aaron said he had it covered. Chelsea and Kennedy both shared an amused look as he tried to gather everything together.
Aaron hoisted up their luggage, her suitcase in his hand, his duffel over his shoulder as he maneuvered up the staircase. Kennedy covered her laugh with her hand as he knocked into countless things on the way up, smiling when he turned to give her a look. When they got to the top, the suitcase thudded to the floor and he rolled it inside the room.
Chelsea had changed the sheets. The blue and gold that usually greeted her was now a soft shade of yellow, the walls painted a rose-petal pink. Kennedy smiled and she crossed the room, letting her fingers drift over the new sheets on the bed before she stood at the window. The lake outside was calm today, the water slowly lapping against the dock, the canoes rocking from their spots near the boathouse. Each year things had changed, but the feeling she got never did.
Aaron stepped up behind her, his breath somewhat labored as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She knew he too was saying hello to Jared in his own way; they did this every year on the anniversary of his death, and she ran a hand over her husband’s,
grateful that he understood, that he did this not just for him, not just for her, but for Jared as well.
“Ready to do something wild?” he whispered in her ear—another tradition of theirs, to do something crazy and fun to commemorate Jared. A shiver ran up her spine and a smile spread on her face. She spun in his arms and pushed him to the bed, his body bouncing on the spring mattress. The only wild thing she wanted right then was him in that bed, and his words in her ear.
“Maybe later,” she said, curling up next to him, resting her head on his chest and reveling in his warmth and the cadence of his heartbeat. “Can we just…talk for a bit?”
She felt his smile tug at her hair, a kiss pressed to the top of her head, and they fell into their natural rhythm of pillowtalk.
To Sue.
Thank you for helping me spread my wings so I can fly.
Acknowledgments
Thank you, reader, for choosing my book. You are the reason I write.
Thank you, Sharon, my amazing agent, for always having my back.
Thank you, Sue, for taking a chance on me.
Thank you, Random House team, especially Loveswept, for all you do for me, my stories, and my readers.
Thank you, Lenore and Chelsey, for being the best beta readers in the world.
Thank you, Theresa, for the late-night chats and the chocolate in the mail.
Thank you, Awesome Nerds, and may the force be with you.
Thank you, Mom, for giving me an ear, a shoulder, and a hug whenever I am in need of them.
Thank you, children, for the smiles I need whenever I’m stressed.
And thank you, Josh, for the pillowtalk.
BY CASSIE MAE
All About Love
Doing It for Love
No Interest in Love
Crazy About Love
Standalone
Pillowtalk
Other books
The Real Thing
Switched
Friday Night Alibi
Recent books
Flirty Thirty
Make Lemonade
PHOTO: ERIN SUMMERILL
CASSIE MAE (who dons the name Becca Ann on occasion) is the author of a few hundred…okay, maybe not that many…books. Some of which became popular for their quirky titles, characters, and stories. She likes writing about nerds, geeks, the awkward, the fluffy, the short, the shy, the loud, the fun.
Since publishing her bestselling debut, Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend, she has published and sold books to Random House, Tulip Romance, and is the founder of CookieLynn Publishing Services. She is represented by Sharon Pelletier at Dystel and Goderich Literary Management. She has a favorite of all her book babies, but no, she won’t tell you what it is. (Mainly because it changes depending on the day.)
Along with writing, Cassie likes to binge watch Once Upon a Time and The Flash. She can quote Harry Potter lines quick as a whip. And she likes kissing her hubby, but only if his facial hair is trimmed. She also likes cheesecake to a very obsessive degree.
You can stalk, talk, or send pictures of Luke Bryan to her on her Facebook page.
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Read on for an excerpt from
Walk of Shame
A Love Unexpectedly Novel
by Lauren Layne
Available from Loveswept
Georgie
TUESDAY MORNING
Let’s talk about 5:00 a.m. for a second.
Also known as the worst hour of the day, am I right?
Here’s why. If you’re awake to see five in the freaking morning, it means one of a few things, all of them heinous.
Scenario one: You’re on your way to the airport for an early-morning flight. Heinous.
Scenario two: You’ve been out all night, and now your vodka buzz is fading, and you’re just sober enough to realize that the rest of your day will likely involve Excedrin, carbs, and indoor voices. Heinous.
Scenario three: You’ve got a crap-ton on your mind, and you’re lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, hating your life. Maybe hating yourself a little bit, I dunno, who am I to judge? Heinous.
Now brace yourself, because scenario four is the most heinous of them all: You’re awake at 5:00 a.m. because you’re an uptight prick whose schedule is even more rigid than your posture, and your life is an endless string of working out, the corner office, repeat. You’re also likely the type of person who subsists on protein shakes and kale smoothies, and you have been known to utter the phrase The body is a temple, thus solidifying what we already knew about you.
You have no friends.
But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.
See, it’s 5:00 a.m., and I, Georgie Watkins, am…kind of excited about it.
I know. I know. Four months ago I’d have bet my favorite vintage Chanel bag that there was exactly zero chance I’d actually look forward to the ghoulish hour of five in the morning.
And yet here we are.
I guess you could say there’s a scenario five on reasons to be up this early.
“Good morning, Ramon,” I sing, pushing through the revolving doors of the luxury high-rise on Fifty-Sixth and Park, the place I call home.
The concierge/security guard/all-around good guy glances up and gives me a friendly smile. “Ms. Watkins. Good morning.”
Usually the massive front desk is a bustling, busy affair. Starting at around seven, an army of well-dressed concierges will be smoothly facilitating the needs of impatient residents, as tiny dogs let out sharp, high-pitched barks of greeting from their Louis Vuitton carriers.
But that’s later.
Right now, the luxurious lobby is mostly silent, with just the lone overnight guy working the front desk, holding down the fort until the day guys arrive to handle the morning crush.
My new Tory Burch clutch tucked into my armpit, I hold up the box in my hands and waggle my eyebrows. “Brought you something.”
Ramon’s smile grows wider, brown eyes lighting. “My wife says you’re going to make me fat.”
“Tell Marta that the dad bod is totally in style right now,” I say, setting the box of doughnuts on the counter and lifting the lid. “Unless, of course, you don’t want a maple bacon doughnut?”
Ramon is already reaching inside the box, shaking his head in reverence as he lifts the sugary treat. “Still warm.”
“Well, technically the shop doesn’t open until five, but I’m such a loyal customer, they let me in a bit early,” I say, surveying the array and trying to decide if I’m in a chocolate kind of mood or if I want to risk the powdered sugar one.
Since my Alexander McQueen minidress is black (the archnemesis of powdered sugar), I reach for the chocolate as I set my clutch on the counter and fish out my phone: 4:58 A.M.
Two more minutes.
“How’s Marta dealing with the pregnancy of baby number three?” I ask, taking a bite and shifting attention back to Ramon, who’s already polished off his doughnut and is contemplating a second. I nudge the box toward him.
“She’s good,” he says. “Excited that we’re finally having a girl.”
“A girl!” I say, reaching across the counter and squeezing his massive forearm. “Congratulations, I hadn’t heard!”
“Just found out yesterday,” he says with a happy smile, apparently deciding that the occasion calls for another doughnut.
“Oh my gosh, I have the perfect baby gift,” I say, nibbling at my doughnut. “I saw this adorable Burberry onesie in Bergdorf’s the other day, with this precious little red bow—”
“Yes, because that’s what every infant needs,” a low voice interrupts. “A four-hundred-dollar piece of fabric that needs to be dry-cleaned. Don’t be ridiculous, Georgiana.”
I don’t hav
e to look at my clock to know what time it is.
Five o’clock.
On the dot.
Not even bothering to turn around, I roll my eyes as my red nails tear off another piece of doughnut and pop it into my mouth. “Ramon, do you think you could talk to maintenance about adjusting the temp? It just got a little cold in here.”
Ramon’s been working here long enough to know my request isn’t for real. He’s not even paying attention to me. He’s already set his doughnut aside and has straightened up, practically saluting the newcomer.
“Mr. Mulroney. Good morning, sir.”
“Mr. Ramirez.” The voice is low and serious, a touch impatient, although not quite rude.
You know that adage that you catch more flies with honey? I’m not so sure it’s true. I bring doughnuts to the front desk guys just about every morning, and they adore me. I know they do.
But they respect him.
Giving in to the inevitable, I finally let my eyes flick to the side, my gaze colliding with a stern brown scowl.
I put on my widest, sparkliest smile, only because I know it drives him crazy.
As always, I see a muscle in his jaw twitch as I flutter my eyelashes.
“Good morning, Andrew,” I say sweetly.
“Georgiana.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Only my late grandmother has ever called me that, and I’m pretty sure that’s because I was her namesake. Everyone else calls me Georgie. Well, okay, not everyone. Ramon and the other guys still insist on calling me Ms. Watkins, but I’m working on it. See: daily doughnuts.