Chapter 1
Chapter One
Natalie
Natalie Singer looks like she ought to be a stripper rather than a kindergarten teacher, with impossibly plump boobs, a pouty mouth she swears is injection free, pale creamy skin, big blue eyes, bigger red hair and wrap-around-a-man-long legs.
Sometimes she acts like the cartoon character she resembles, a cross between Jessica Rabbit and Betty Boop . . .
No. Even I wasn’t ballsy enough to put that bio in my dating app.
Besides, I was reforming, wasn’t I? I was no longer looking to hook up with the next hunky guy that came along.
It was time to find something more. Pressing the back arrow all the way back, I erased the truth of who I'd been since seventh grade up until now, at twenty-five hard-fought and hard-won years old.
I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.
It was time to leave. My bags were in the back seat and I sat in my driveway with the key in the ignition of my trusty old Mustang. I couldn't wait any longer for my bratty brothers to come home to say goodbye.
For cripes sake, I was only going away for a four-day weekend.
It felt like I was deserting my kid brothers—except they weren’t exactly kids anymore, in their teens and bigger than me. Getting meaner and bolder than me too. But my mommy-nurturing instincts had always been super-sized, so it was hard.
The destination wedding for my best friend Cat was going to be the exact adventure I needed to start fresh. What better time and place was there to find my soulmate?
The man I would leave home for, the man I would desert my family for to spend the rest of my life loving.
Shaking my head, I turned the key. Enough romantic crap. I needed a clear mind to carry this off. I backed the car out of the drive and into the street.
Since Cat’s dad was head coach of the Boston Militia football team and she was marrying Hunter Quintanna, the star tight end—with a star tight ass—the guest list for their wedding was chock-full of professional football players.
I might be looking for more than a hookup, but I was still looking for a hot guy.
An excited little thrill went through me at the idea of all that man-muscle.
I pulled to the corner and took a left up Broadway to the Revere traffic circle.
I could call Dad from the road and check on things, let him know the weekend schedule for my brothers.
Or maybe I could even trust his lovely wife, the stepmother-who-tried-too-hard to do the job.
My brothers didn’t listen to the woman, but they liked her.
Me? I supposed it was high time I got past my resentment. It had been years.
One life-changing mission at a time.
I’d have to save fixing my relationship with Dad’s sweet wifey—the one he replaced my dead mother with a little prematurely—for another time. Steering the car toward the on-ramp to Route 1, I headed north.
The scenery along the winding oceanfront road to York, Maine was breathtaking once I got off the highway.
It was a blue-skied April afternoon and as neared the Cape Neddick Inn and Resort Hotel, my excitement budded.
Before I got there, I needed to call dad.
But between looking for the resort parking lot and trying to get Dad on the phone I got distracted.
“Come on, Dad. Answer the phone already.” On the fourth ring, I saw the sign on the left and swerved at the last minute into the parking lot. On the fifth ring, I slammed on my brakes to avoid hitting a man.
Shit. I threw the misused phone on the passenger seat where I should have left it, threw the car into park and opened the door.
The man had jumped out of the way and rolled onto the ground.
I rushed to him, clattering in my heels with my purse dangling from my hand, though I had no idea why I thought I’d need it.
I knelt next to him as he sat up, prepared to be horrified by blood, and already horrified that I’d nearly hit this man.
Totally unprepared for the slam to my gut when he turned to me, his killer, better-than-Paul-Newman-blue eyes aimed straight at me, striking my heart like Cupid’s arrow.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Kneeling on the pavement, I leaned in and felt him up, vaguely aware of the inappropriateness, I was in a panic in spite of his striking eyes and the way they hit a bull’s-eye in my heart.
Chest thudding equally from his hotness and my fear of having done him bodily harm, I went into teacher-crisis mode and took his face in my hands
He’d said nothing, either too stunned by the fall or my manhandling, I wasn’t sure, and my concern rose.
“You’re hurt aren’t you? You hit your head? Let me see, let me check for blood.” I fingered all over his head, running my hands through his hair, checking for bumps, until I felt the sting in my eyes.
“Damn.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Too late. The tears fell and I whimpered. “Please say something.”
“I’m okay, don’t cry. I’m fine. I’m just . . . a little stunned.” He took my hands from his hair and got to his feet, pulling me to a stand with him. “It’s all right. No harm done, I swear.” He had one arm around me and, with a gentle touch, wiped the tears from my cheek with his other thumb.
“You weren’t going fast enough to hit me,” he said in a deep rumbling voice. “I got out of the way in plenty of time.”
“I’m such an idiot. I should have seen you.” Fresh tears sprang because I’d been so looking forward to this weekend away from my responsibilities and I’d already let my dad, my family distract me.
“It could happen to anyone.” His deep voice and his expression concerned when he should have at least been annoyed, if not livid.
I shook my head. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No, it was my fault,” he sighed. “It’s a parking lot, I should have been watching for cars.”
I looked at him then, at those eyes, and finally got myself out of my head, out of my panic, and realized he was actually taking the blame for me.
“You didn’t just say that, did you? You didn’t just try and take the blame for me almost running you down?”
“Yes, I did.” He laughed. “How about if we call it an accident and share the blame?”
In the face of his dimples, I calmed all the way down from panic and then got riled up again in a completely different way. Looking up at him, because he was almost a foot taller than me, I let the fact that he was a total hunk settle in.
Though he was a little older than I was used to, unless I counted the crush I had on my 9th grade science teacher, his kind smile and killer blue eyes made my tummy flip. I was in Mr. Mature Hunk’s arms and I didn’t mind at all.
He must have noticed my change in attitude as I warmed up to his embrace because he dropped his arm and backed up with a shake of his head.
“It’s a deal,” I said. “As long as you’re sure you’re undamaged.” I stared, ogled really. It was unseemly, but I kept the drool in my mouth so I wasn’t a total fool.
“I’m fine,” he said, implying that I might not be.
“Me too. I mean—” I had no idea what I meant.
A car pulled into the lot and beeped. I’d left my car running with the door open, blocking the way.
“Well, I should be going. I’m here for a wedding.
Wouldn’t want to be late.” I didn’t miss the surprise in his eyes, the speculation, but he kept his mouth shut, those gorgeous kissable lips with a hint of a you’re-a-crazy-wreck look.
But he wasn’t running away, didn’t immediately back up, and didn’t look the least bit scared, so I took that as encouragement to continue rambling.
“I’m running late—but not for the wedding—I’m meeting the bride, my best friend from college. I don’t want to be late for that. You probably have somewhere to be too.” Realizing that I was doing a monologue, I started backing up. The waiting car beeped again.
“Yeah. We should get going.” He bent down, and I took in his perfect tight ass as he picked up the purse I’d dropped on the brick walk where he’d landed.
He stood and handed it to me, and I could have swooned—if not from my tight skirt probably from the way he looked at me, just a quick sweep of interested eyes.
Very respectful. Very polite. And hellfire hot.
I prayed to Venus that he was on the team, that he was here for the wedding.
“Thank you for—” What the hell was I saying?
He saluted and chuckled as he walked away in the direction of the Inn’s impressive front portico. Of course, he didn’t say anything to my thank-you. What would he say? Can I have your number in case I want to be run down again some time?
After getting my shit together and parking the car, I finally got myself and my bags inside to the registration desk to check in.
As I stood in line checking out the lobby, I saw Cat, Catalina Marini, my sorority sister, best friend and the glowing bride-to-be, standing at the stone hearth with Penny, her dad’s personal assistant-turned-wife.
Naturally I shrieked her name, left my bags, and rushed over to her.
“Nattie! You came early, I’m so glad you got away. We’re going to have so much fun.” She ran at me and I met her with open arms.
We exchanged a bone crushing hug as if we’d returned from World War III barely unscathed.
That’s how it always was for sorority sisters, especially us.
We’d shared a room for two years in the sorority house and I owed her because she was supposed to have a single, but made room for me knowing I couldn’t otherwise afford to be there.
“How could I miss it?” I didn’t tell her about my anxiety at leaving Dad and Lisa—I’d never thought of her as my step mother—in charge of my bratty, ungrateful brothers.
And I didn’t share the heart-pounding story of my near run-down of the hottie in the parking lot. I’d save that for later over drinks.
She stood back from my embrace and looked me over. I did a twirl. She laughed.
“Bold as ever. Southern belle stripper style.”