Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
He refuses to allow it.
Now, here we are, forced to spend the holidays together, pretending everything is as merry as ever.
It isn’t.
I know this.
He knows this.
Everyone else? Not so much thanks to the man determined to be mine.
Despite all that’s happened between us, he swears not everything has changed.
He might be right…
—-
This is a second chance holiday short story with high steam, a guaranteed HEA, and NO cliffhanger!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Noel
Have you ever sat back and wondered what life would be like if you made one decision differently? Ever wished a memory away or prayed for a redo?
If you have… I can say with utmost certainty that you, you wishful thinker, are most definitely the asshole who made the mistake, and the time you would like to teleport back to is the moment you slid your average-size eggplant inside your girlfriend’s roommate!
“Someone has a lot on her mind.”
Never in my life have I slapped my laptop shut so fast, my glare slicing over my shoulder and slamming into the eyes of the man who makes me wish I had ice cream for breakfast… so I could puke it up all over his impeccably polished shoes.
“And someone else is, yet again, speaking on things that do not concern them.” Hooking my heel around the back leg of my chair, I spin until I’m facing him. Legs crossed, I drum my fingertips along the thick leather beneath my palm. “Why are you here?”
Arms folded over his stupidly broad chest, he cocks his head like the condescending asshole he is. “What were you writing?”
“My speech for the opening.”
“That’ll go over well with potential buyers.” He doesn’t miss a beat, this one, eyes always sharp and assessing.
“I’m sure their wives will relate beautifully.” My smile is a sugary sham as I push to stand, blindly grabbing my laptop and sliding it into my bag. I wipe the fake away. “I know the whole ‘couple thing’ is a foreign concept to you, but why do you think I suggested a couples conference?” I lift a brow, taking two steps forward and answering before he has a chance. “When a husband assumes his wife is uncomfortable or appears a little less naïve than he assumed her to be, said husband will open his wallet.”
“My wallet is plenty big enough now.”
“And apparently, so is your ego.”
I shoulder past the man, but I’m caught by an arm, halting me at his side.
My gaze darts to his.
“So sassy these days,” he accuses.
“Gee.” I tip my head. “I wonder why that is.”
“The man with the average-size eggplant?”
“And his brother.”
Roman’s brows crash instantly, and I jerk in his grasp, but he doesn’t relent, his long fingers spreading wider for a better grip. A shadow falls over him, and slowly, he pulls in a lungful of air.
“We don’t have to do this, you know?” His dark eyes implore mine. “I’ve been home for weeks now.”
“And I’ve been eagerly awaiting your departure since the day you arrived.”
“Lie to yourself some more, Kitten.”
Kitten.
The nickname he gave me the day he met me. We were only fifteen, and he was too charming for his own good, so instead of feeding into his flirty ways, I snapped back.
He said he liked my claws, and that was that.
He became the boy I pretended annoyed me—until I didn’t—and I was his ‘Kitten.’
But that was twelve years ago, and not a damn thing is as it was then.
I swallow, working to keep my frown in place. “Do not call me that.”
“That wasn’t a denial.” The asshole has the audacity to grin.
“Why are you here, Roman?”
“I work here. My name is on the building out front, right beside yours.”
We stare at one another for a long stretch but knowing that was not what I meant, neither of us having to say it out loud.
Why did he come back? Why now?
Why at all?
I stand taller. “I’m running point on this, and I planned to do so with you on the opposite side of the country.”
“In-person communication is always best.”
“Communication?” A humorless laugh leaves me. That’s rich. “And here I thought you were the radio silent type.”
He jerks closer, eyes narrowing. “Want to take a trip down memory lane?”
I swallow my tongue, my muscles coiling in an instant, but I manage to force my words out strong.
“We’ve gotten this far without the added inconvenience of your presence. I don’t want you here or tagging along. In fact, I would almost beg you to skip the weekend altogether, help avoid any… mishaps bound to walk in your wake. So, what do you say, hmm?” I tip my head, aware I’m acting like a brat and not giving two shits. “Hop on your fancy new jet and fly back to wherever it is you call home?”
“This is my home, Noel. I said I’m here to stay. I meant it.”
“Yeah.” My lips twist mockingly. “We’ll see.”
He regards me for a long moment. “A pessimist now, are we? What happened to the doe-eyed woman who fell in love with a story from a magazine I bought her that inspired all this hard work?” He shifts closer, bringing us face to face, his large fingers still wrapped around my bicep. “You were such a dreamer, a romantic.”