Bonus Epilogue
Angelina
? Tennessee Whiskey - Chris Stapleton
“What’s wrong, babe?” Jess says, hiding her smile behind a margarita the size of Texas. “You’ve barely touched your semi-annual existential crisis.”
I glare at my best friend.
“That’s rich coming from the woman who’s happily married with a three-month-old baby at home.” I swipe my finger through the delicate swirl of frosting on my red velvet cupcake and lick it off. “What’s it like to live my dream?”
“Honestly? My nipples hurt constantly, I haven’t slept more than four hours at a time in months, and I’d kill to eat spicy food again, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
“You left out the part where your husband fucks like a stallion and looks like every woman’s fantasy.”
She smiles. “Yeah, there’s that, too.”
I sigh. “I really need to get laid.”
She sets her glass down on the coffee table and repositions herself to face me. “Ok. Spill. What’s going on with you?”
I’m thirty-one years old and single with nothing to show for my life but this modest apartment in Denver, a veterinary license, and a caffeine addiction some might call concerning.
My dating history is just one manchild after another, all operating under the guise of wanting a future, until I realize what they want is a mother, not a partner.
But I don’t say any of that. I just shrug. “Does Wilder have any hot friends?”
“I’ll do you one better. He has a hot brother. Two of them, in fact. But Jaxon’s a bit young for you.”
I rip the bottom off the cupcake and sandwich it to the top, then devour the thing like I haven’t eaten in weeks. I’d kill to have my pussy eaten with this much enthusiasm. “Single?”
“Yep.” She pops the P for emphasis.
I bring my straw to my lips to wash down the sweetness, narrowing my eyes at her. “So, what’s wrong with him?”
“Ok, hear me out. He doesn’t have any glaring red flags, but he’s really committed to his job.”
“Ok…” I draw out that single word. “What does he do?”
“He’s a horse trainer and riding instructor, but he used to be a bronc rider back in his heyday.”
I don’t even try to hold back my snort. “Cowboy is the red flag, babe.”
She hits me with a backhand. “He’s the exception, not the rule.”
I’ve dealt with my fair share of cowboys in my line of work. I’ve been called out to countless farms and ranches to tend to injured horses and livestock, and every single cowboy I’ve met has looked down on me like I didn’t earn my place in this career.
I purse my lips and shake my head. “No thanks.”
“Just meet him.”
“I’ll pass.”
Her expression turns from hopeful to guilty in a blink.
“Jess…. what did you do?”
She checks her phone and downs the rest of her drink. “Come on. That’s enough pre-gaming. Our ride is here.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s your birthday, and we have plans to celebrate. That’s what’s going on.”
She heads toward the door and slips on her black heels. I reluctantly follow her lead. It’s not often we get to dress up anymore. She’s either working or being a mom, and my job has been keeping me busier than ever.
I dusted off my favorite little black dress with a triangle cutout at my midriff and a thigh-high slit. If this doesn’t get me laid for my birthday, I don’t know what will.
“What are you not telling me?”
“Wilderiscomingandhisbrotheriswithhim.” The words come out too jumbled for me to make sense of them.
“Say that again. Slower this time.”
She clears her throat, averting her gaze. “Wilder is coming, and his brother is with him.”
“Jessica Louise Hayes!”
“Don’t you dare use my full government name, Angelina Thalia Rossi.”
A knock sounds at my apartment door.
“That’s the guys,” Jess says. “Please be nice.”
“When am I ever not nice?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks a brow at me.
“Fine. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
As soon as the door swings open, Wilder barrels inside and wraps Jess in his arms. “I missed you.”
She giggles. “I’ve only been gone for two hours.”
“Two hours too long.”
She giggles as he kisses down her neck.
“How’s Emmy Lou?” she asks.
“She’s having the time of her life with your parents, which means we have an entire evening to ourselves for the first time in months.”
I tune them out after that, too busy worrying if I’m drooling as I stare at the man standing in my doorway.
I’m tall for a woman at five foot eleven, and he still towers over me by at least a good seven or eight inches.
He’s broad-chested and soft around the middle, with light brown wavy hair that hangs down past his shoulders and a well-groomed beard.
His eyes are a rich brown with flecks of caramel, and they’re staring back at me with unmasked hunger.
His smile feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. “Hi. I’m Griffin.”
My gaze flicks to his upturned palm that’s extended toward me. I slide my hand into his, and he brings it to his perfectly soft lips.
I momentarily forget how to speak.
Snap out of it, Ang. You’re a bad bitch. Act like it.
“I’m Angelina.”