Tori
The sweep of Sawyer’s dark brown hair is so perfectly styled, he literally looks like he stepped off a magazine cover. It should be intimidating, he’s that good-looking, but something about the way he’s staring at me makes it seem almost as if he’s the one intimidated. Byme.
Which is ridiculous. He’s a hot firefighter who could have his pick of women. And I’m a single mom who writes romance novels for a living.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a confidence issue. In general, I have zero issues with how I look. But tonight, I’m a little more vulnerable than normal. Which is exactly why Willow forced me to get all dressed up and come to this dang event.
I’m busy trying not to swallow my tongue at just how freaking handsome Sawyer is when Willow makes our excuses to the trio of hunky firefighters and drags me with her to the bathroom, supposedly to “freshen up.”
I call bullshit. She wants to make sure I’m okay if she abandons me and goes home with one of the two guys she’s chatting up, or maybe both, knowing her. She’s bold and brave in her sex life — heck, in all of her life. There’s a reason she inspires my characters a lot more than I do.
“Remind me why I’m here again?” I whisper once we’re in the glamourous ladies’ room just outside the ballroom. “I could be at home eating the discount Valentine’s Day candy from last week, wearing comfy clothes, and watchingThe Golden Girls. But instead, I’m squeezed into a dress that really is a size too small, sipping on lukewarm wine, making small talk.” My complaints fall on deaf ears.
Willow fixes me with a glare. “Oh sure, you’re having such a terrible time talking to a hot firefighter. I saw you smiling, Tori, don’t deny it.” She turns to face the mirror, pursing her lips as she touches up her already perfect lipstick. “And you’re here because, as your best friend, there wasn’t a chance in hell I would let you spend this weekend alone. Coop’s at a sleepover, and you don’t need to wallow in the dark thinking abouthim.”
The fiercely defensive tone of her words underlines her protective nature. There’s no better best friend in the world than Willow Lawson. When she showed up at my apartment tonight, dress in hand, and told me she had two tickets to the annual BC Firefighter gala, she made it perfectly clear what she expected of me.
Find a hot firefighter and let him fuck away any residual hurt my son’s father left on my soul when he told me he was getting married and moving to another province. Starting a family and abandoning the one he already has. Again.
“I wouldn’t think about him,” I start to feebly protest. “I’d…”
Willow turns to face me, arching one brow in a perfect lift. “Uh-huh. You’d…?”
Damn it.
“Listen, honey, I love you. And I know you. That’s how I know that even though Sir Douche Canoe doesn’t deserve a second of your brain power, and I know you don’t really wanthimbut theideaof him, heck not even the idea of him, the idea of a life partner.I also know that finding out he’s getting married hurts more than you want to admit. And that’s why my job as your best friend is to distract you from that pain. If it ends up that you finally dust off the vajayjay and finally get some action, so be it. Call it revenge sex.”
I snort at that. “Revenge against what? Tim made it perfectly clear from the start he didn’t want a future with me and Coop. He never once lied to me or did anything bad.”
“Except for abandoning his kid?”
“He didn’t abandon him.”
“No, just signed over full custody and walked away for the first two years of his life.”
“I’m going to ignore the fact that you called it a vajayjay, or that you implied it would be dusty, because,eww. I am capable of basic hygiene, you know,” I say archly, folding my arms across my chest. But Willow’s not done.
“If you didn’t want me interfering in your sex life, then you shouldn’t have admitted to me that you haven’t been thoroughly fucked since you got pregnant. That’s over eight years, T.”
I knew I’d regret my margarita-fueled confession last week. I managed to get this far without her finding out just how long my dry spell was, then drunk me blurted out my secret. I hate drunk me. “Fine. But if I end up a statistic in the morning, I’m going to haunt your ass so hard.”
Willow just smirks, knowing she’s won. “I thought you wrote romance novels, not thrillers. Embrace the one-night stand trope, Tori.”
Yeah. Sure.
There’s a reason I write romance, and it’s not because my life is so romantic. It’s because between the pages of a book is the only place I can find a man who treats a woman the way we should be treated.
Guys like that just don’t exist. And even if they did, my hands are full being a mom and a writer. I don’t have time for a relationship.
Except, maybe for just one night.
We rejoin the men, who really are, as a whole, far too pretty for their own good.Prettyisn’t the right word, but it is the safest. Especially when my eyes land on Sawyer. Standing tall and proud, he exudes a vibe that is pure masculine confidence. I always thought that alpha attitude would be a turnoff, and maybe in my right mind, it would be.
But I’m not in my right mind tonight.
Tonight, I want a man to make me forget myself, and Sawyer seems the perfect one to do just that.
He turns his dazzling smile my way, and my stomach flip-flops.
