Making It Happen (Sapphire Falls Next Generation #3)

Chapter 1

EVERETT

She’s gone.

I knew she would be. She basically told me as much last night.

That doesn’t make the disappointment any less sharp.

I don’t open my eyes for several long minutes. I just lie in bed and replay the night before with the goddess that I picked up at the bar.

Who the fuck was she?

I let her talk me into the no names, no numbers, no personal details thing.

But I’d say I know plenty of personal details now.

I know every inch of her body. I know that she says she likes being fucked from behind best of all, but I know that she comes hardest when she’s on top straddling me.

I also know that I have the biggest cock she’s fucked in a long time.

She flat-out told me that one.

I also know that she recently got out of a two-year relationship with a guy who didn’t like to eat pussy.

What a dumbass.

And why the hell did she stay with him for so long? Because she loves a man’s mouth between her thighs.

At least she likes mine between her thighs.

Why the hell didn’t I get her number?

Speaking of dumbasses.

Reluctantly, I open my eyes and roll towards the side of the bed she took over last night when we were finally too exhausted to keep going.

That took a while. I think it was around four a.m. when I finally felt like I could take a break. I’d been ravenous. Sleep was the last thing on my mind.

She slept on my favorite side of the bed, and the indentation on the pillow I usually use is still there.

I groan and roll further, pressing my face into it.

I’m so fucking gone.

And I don’t even know her first name.

I called her Diana. Because she’d been dressed up like Wonder Woman.

Fucking Wonder Woman.

That’s why I’d approached her instead of turning around and leaving the second I realized it was Halloween and ninety percent of the patrons in my favorite bar were in costume.

I’d known that she’d known my suit and tie were not a costume, but she’d called me Clark Kent, and I’d gone with it. Hell, I love Superman—who doesn’t?—I wanted to stay—I’m not an idiot—and my last name is Clark. It seemed like kismet.

I roll onto my back again and stare at the ceiling.

What a stupid and out-of-character thought.

My phone vibrates with a text, and I quickly roll to grab it. Maybe it’s her.

But a split second before I see my best friend’s name flash across the screen, I realize that’s impossible.

We didn’t exchange numbers.

Because I’m a dumbass.

I swipe open the message from Graham.

Hey, we’re pushing brunch back a couple of hours. Margot got hit by a terrible migraine last night. She’s better today, but just moving slowly.

I scrub a hand over my face. It’s Sunday and I promised to have brunch with my best friend, his girlfriend, and his sister.

Harriet is in town visiting, and she’s the only remaining member of Graham’s family I haven’t met. I had been so intrigued by what Graham Riley’s family would be like. He’s an interesting dude. I was accustomed to being the smartest person in any room I was in, until I met him.

No surprise, considering who his father is. And yes, I knew who Graham’s father was before I knew Graham.

Mason Riley is a world-renowned scientist known as much for his brilliant mind and scientific innovations as for his eccentric approach to people.

Is he autistic? Probably. Does he march to the beat of his own drummer? No doubt about it. Does he apologize for that? Nope.

For instance, his eldest son, Carver, was named for the American agricultural scientist and inventor George Washington Carver.

Jefferson, their second son, was named after, of course, Thomas Jefferson.

Graham is named Graham Alexander Riley after Alexander Graham Bell.

And Harriet is named after the first Canadian female nuclear physicist, Harriet Brooks.

Her brothers call her Harry and for the longest time, I thought Graham had three brothers.

I glance at the time. Fuck, it’s ten a.m. already, and with very little sleep, not to mention the unusual expenditure of energy last night, I’m not up to a social engagement. Graham wants to try to convince his sister to leave her job and come work for us.

She’s extremely happy and well-paid at her job with the pharmaceutical research company in Chicago, and I think it’s going to be a hard sell. Especially because the job also requires a move back to their hometown of Sapphire Falls. But Graham thinks we can convince her.

I’m definitely not up for being a charming, persuasive CFO this morning.

If it were just Graham and Margot for brunch, that might be one thing.

I can get away with almost anything with Graham.

He grew up in a house of nerds who often say the wrong thing, who do things like wear a variation of the same thing every day rather than worry about being ‘stylish’ in other clothes, and who have quirks like loving very cold drinks but hating ice cubes.

And Margot is incredible. I was nervous about meeting her, but she handles everything with ease. Yes, I’ve put my foot in my mouth a few times with her, and she definitely knows about my ice cube thing, but none of it seems to faze her. I suppose she knows the Rileys pretty well. That helps me out.

I think back to the night before. Diana didn’t seem to care either.

We didn’t get around to setting up ice cubes or adjusting the TV volume to exactly sixteen for documentaries and eighteen for sports.

And I didn’t say anything wrong. I was just very blunt about what I wanted, what I liked, what I wanted her to do, and what I wanted to do to her.

She seemed to like that. A lot.

I respond to Graham’s text. Actually, something came up. I’m not going to make it.

Graham responds with six question marks and then what the fuck came up?

E: Met someone last night, need to go see her.

G: You met someone? What does that mean?

E: Met a woman. Had amazing sex all night. Need to go find her.

G: Find her? Where is she?

E: She left this morning before I saw her.

G: She snuck out? She didn’t wanna see you, Clark.

My last name is Clark, and Graham refers to me as Clark instead of Everett ninety-nine percent of the time.

E: She’s from out of town. She has to be staying nearby at one of the hotels.

G: So you’re going to go stalk her.

E: I’m going to go try to find her.

G: Just don’t get arrested.

I, of course, have no intention of getting arrested. I want to find her, tell her I've changed my mind about not exchanging personal information, and that I'd like to see her again. And I’m going to start at the bar, not the area hotels.

The bar is just down the block from my high-rise apartment building. There are luxury hotels in the area, and she has to be staying at one of them. There’s no way she found the bar any other way. It’s a very nice bar, but it’s a neighborhood establishment.

She had been there for a little bit before I got there, waiting on some friends who were standing her up. She’d been chatting with the bartender, and I intend to find out if Laney picked up any information about her that might be helpful in my search.

All I know is I can’t let this woman leave Denver without at least trying to find her.