Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“What are you doing way over here?” a familiar voice came from beside me. I turned to Elliott, whose brows arched high on his forehead. “I figured you’d be relieved that you finally busted out of Fever Falls, and you’d be running around, trying to hook up with one of these sexy foreign models. What about that guy—Fabian Marcelle? You don’t speak French. He doesn’t speak English. You wouldn’t even have to chat with him.” He patted me on the back.
“Fabian Marcelle is a fucking liar and thinks that whole I-can’t-speak-English thing looks sexy to dumb Americans. I’ve already been one of the dumb Americans to fall for that. Worth. Every. Second.”
Elliott laughed. “Then what’s the issue? Come on. I invited you to come with me so you could have some fun. I feel terrible that you’ve been stuck in that crap town for the past few months.”
“It’s not a crap town.”
He did a double take. “Who are you, and what have you done with Carter?”
“It’s not as bad as I thought,” I confessed, surprising even myself at defending a place I was used to giving a hard time for not being New York City or LA.
But it definitely was a great place, I’d come to discover, and no, it wasn’t just because of my current interest—well, obsession maybe—with a certain Sawyer Burke.
Serious Sawyer… Seriously Sexy Sawyer was more like it.
“Oh, this is precious.” The way Elliott said it, I worried he was on to me. “You’re trying that positive-thinking thing again? Like saying it’s fine and then it will be? Good on you. Personally, I’d rather work in a diamond mine during wartime than live in a place like that. But keep it up. Don’t worry, before you know it, you’ll be out of there. You know Dax and I will always take care of you.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Oh fuck.” His gaze jerked toward a corner of the room, and I started to turn. “No, no. Don’t look. It’s my ex-wife.” He sighed. “I’m going to go talk to her.”
“Just keep in mind that now’s a bad time to renegotiate alimony,” I joked. He rolled his eyes as he muttered to himself, clearly talking himself into it before heading back out into the crowd.
I checked my phone before continuing my rounds, and found a message from Sawyer: Missing me already?
Dammit, I sure as fuck was, and I wasn’t even ashamed of it.
I’d definitely made my share of jabs at Fever Falls, but there was a lot of good there, with Sawyer being a big one in that department. He was the reason I would have rather been in the Falls than at some fancy Paris fashion show.
More than that, the note we’d left things on…when he’d kissed me, and I’d gone home. God, why had he let us walk away from that opportunity? If I’d just handed my ass over to him, I wouldn’t be blue-balling the way I was now.
But it wasn’t just the fact that my flesh fucking burned like fire at his touch. I actually fucking liked talking to the guy. The more we chatted, the more he opened up about himself and I saw who he was—a caring brother and friend—the more I wanted to know. But there was something scary about it too, something I noticed when I’d checked on him while I was dancing with Elliott.
I texted back: Missing might be an understatement for what my ass is doing right now.
I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, but I couldn’t help but think of how his ex had wanted to tear him down, make him feel insecure about what he did in the bedroom. I wanted to build him up, give him the confidence to show me what I knew was lingering within him, waiting to be unleashed. Also, admittedly, my motives were slightly selfish. I really wanted Sawyer to keep his thoughts on my ass so he’d be too tempted to resist it when I got back to the Falls.
I finally returned to the party, making small talk and doing my best to entertain myself with idle conversations. But my thoughts were so Sawyer-centric that it was difficult to enjoy the moment.
“Hey, my man,” I heard behind me. I didn’t recognize the voice straight away, and as I turned, a nearly seven-foot figure approached. I practically jumped before recognizing Miles Gunner, offensive lineman for the Giants. With a broad smile across his face and his eyes set on mine, it was evident he was thinking of the last time we’d seen each other. Well, more than seen.
“How’ve you been, Carter?” He drew me in for a hug before pulling away, but keeping close enough that I could feel the heat he gave off.
I was relieved to see the guy, since he was probably one of the more down-to-earth guys in attendance. “Good,” I said. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”