Epilogue
Six months later
Izzy
“I refuse. I will not do it, no matter what you say.”
“Come on, Iz,” Blake said, kneeling in front of me. “Just say yes.”
“I would rather die,” I said, turning my head away from him. I couldn’t look at him when he was like that, gorgeous and half-dressed and giving me his hopeful look that was nearly impossible to deny. “And I probably will die if I do it.”
“I won’t let you die.” Blake glanced at his watch before saying, “Pleeeeeease?”
I shook my head. “Why did I ever give you Josh’s number?”
“Because you wanted to have sex all night and needed him to feed the Darkling, if I recall.” Blake stood from where he’d been crouched beside the couch and extended his hand. “Get up and come with me.”
“Have I ever told you that you look good in boxer briefs?” I asked, letting him pull me to my feet.
“A hundred times, but flattery won’t get you out of this. Come shower with me, and then let’s go kick some ass.”
“How can someone so smart be so incapable of learning?” I muttered to myself as Blake led me toward the bedroom.
I’d moved in with him a few months ago, probably too soon for normal people but perfect for us. Everything had been amazing since the day I’d hung my Target outfits in the closet beside his Brooks Brothers suits, and I’d never looked back.
I had a great job at Google, working in HR, and Blake had been promoted to an EVP at Ellis. Our office buildings weren’t that far apart, so on most Mondays, we still met at Caniglia’s food truck for pizza and calzone.
Honestly, the biggest difficulty for us so far had been the cats. The Darkling didn’t like either of Blake’s cats, and poor Goodyear hid under a chair for the first week that I lived there, terrified. The felines were finally coexisting as of last month—basically because the Darkling never left the bedroom—so peace had kind of been restored.
Josh moved into my old place, thrilled to have an upstairs apartment and a downstairs apartment like a total boss. I didn’t talk to him as often since I’d left, but he and Blake texted all the time.
Hence the Billboard Assholes challenge that my boyfriend was apparently too weak to refuse.
“Your cousin’s idiot friends keep talking smack, Iz, saying that our win was rigged because I’m good at push-ups or some bullshit like that. Josh needs to clear his name with his nerd squad, and we need to prove that we can beat them at any challenge.”
“But we can’t,” I said, and when Blake stopped beside the bathroom door, I raised my arms so he could remove my shirt. “The game is impossible.”
“Shay.” He gave me a smile, one of those sweetly patient grins, and took off my top like he was my caretaker. “We won before, and we can win again.”
“Doubtful,” I said, but then it was my turn for shirt removal. I slid his Chiefs T-shirt up, letting my eyes and fingertips enjoy the pectoral exposure. Once it was off, I grinned and said, “Although…I kind of feel like I’m winning at the moment.”
“Same. And the night we won at Billboard Assholes, Iz?” He pulled me close, his big hands covering my backside and pressing me flush against him. “The game wasn’t the win—the kiss was.”
I smiled, remembering. “That was going to be our one and only, just to see what it was like.”
He made a noise that mocked our foolishness. “It was the gateway drug.”
“Are you saying my kiss got you hooked?”
He raised a hand and pushed the hair off my face. “Honey, I was hooked the minute you felt me up at Scooter’s, checking for a third nipple in those dirty-ass glasses like some kind of nutjob.”
I laughed, felt exactly the same. I’d belonged to Blake since the very second I’d stolen a latte and accidentally become Scooter’s Amy.