to eat breakfast together. It’s something so simple, but still so special, just because I get to share this memory with her. “You want me to order you some pancakes, Sunshine?”
“I wouldn’t turn up my nose at a pancake,” she says, grinning up at me. “That’s all I’m saying.”
I sit back down, scooting my chair next to Lark’s, putting my arm around her and pulling her close. She leans into me with a happy sigh, and I kiss the top of her head.
“All right, how about you help me eat this omelet before it gets cold, and then we split a stack of the harvest pancakes?” I ask. “Sound like a deal?”
“Sounds perfect,” she says, tipping her face up to mine, glowing with happiness.
“And then we’ll go ring shopping and find something you won’t mind wearing for another fifty years or so.”
She smiles. “That sounds even better.”
“It does,” I agree.
It sounds pretty damned perfect, in fact, like the beginning of the life I’ve always wanted, one filled with love and laughter and this beautiful girl, who is my very best friend.
“And then we’ll go back to your place,” she whispers. “I want to see the new bedroom furniture you talked about in last week’s letter.”
“If you don’t like it, we can take it back. I saved the receipt.”
She rolls her eyes. “I couldn’t care less about the furniture, Mason. I want to see the bed. And you in the bed. And me in the bed with you.”
I arch a teasing brow. “Yeah? Think you’ll be ready for a nap soon?”
“No napping today, Doctor Stewart,” she says with a grin. “I’m going to need a thorough physical. Every inch examined thoroughly. Head to toe.”
“Head to toe,” I agree.
I’m about to suggest we ask for the rest of our breakfast to go, and get to the examining as soon as possible, but Lark is already lifting her hand, summoning a waiter. She then proceeds to order twice as much food as we agreed upon in a very assured, very sexy voice, before turning back to me, and asking, “You want anything else?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I’ve got everything I’ll ever need.”
And I do.
Ready for more Bliss River Romance?
Married to the Enemy,
Nash and Aria’s story,
is coming soon!
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Sneak Peek
Please enjoy this sneak peek of
Married to the Enemy!
CHAPTER ONE
Aria
Twelve years ago
I slip through the woods on silent feet, my heartbeat louder than the cicadas buzzing and clicking in the trees.
It’s almost too dark to see the trail, I don’t have a flashlight, and being out of my cabin after lights out and on my way to meet a boy are both major camp handbook violations. If I’m caught, I’ll be kicked out. My mom and dad are on the Arts Council board, but not even that will spare me the ultimate punishment.
The staff here are really intense about following the rules.
And staying in bed after lights out.
And not kissing boys.
Or girls.
They frown—hard—at all varieties of kissing and displays of affection.
I should turn around. I really, really should.
I don’t want to be sent home. My friends are here, camp means another four weeks away from my bratty little sisters, Lark and Melody, and I’m having the time of my life sketching and painting and experimenting with new mediums during our five hours of daily art classes.
I love camp Arts Under the Elms. I love it like I love deep fried Twinkies at the fair and staying in my pajamas all weekend, and I wouldn’t put my future here at risk for anything.
Anything except him.
Nash Geary.
Just thinking his name is enough to make my blood fizzy. He is by far the most delicious boy I’ve ever met—taller than the other boys at camp by at least five inches, built like a contestant of an ancient Olympiad, with moody green eyes a shade lighter than mine and a silky Georgia drawl I can feel whispering over my skin like warm summer rain.
He is flat out, no holds barred, drop dead drool-worthy.
Every girl at camp had her eye on him the first day, but by the time we walked through the dinner line to pick up our burgers and hot dogs, Nash had made it clear he only had eyes for me. Me, the girl with the messy hair and skinny legs.
Not that I’m a complete wallflower.
I’ve dated my fair share of boys—especially considering I’m not allowed to go on