CHAPTER ONE
Champagne is always a good idea. Especially when you’re the perfect combination of incredibly happy and just tipsy enough not to be drunk. Matt and I are in the limo Grandmother insisted take us home tonight.
Tonight. I don’t think the smile ever left my face. Grandmother is married, and I’m … well, I’m with Matt. We danced. And it was amazing.
He squeezes my hand. “What are you thinking about?”
“How we first met.”
He chuckles. “You had all that alcohol, and I asked you if you wanted me to remember you in your bed. Dead. But when you asked if you would be naked, I will admit that my mind went places.”
“What kind of places?” I flirt.
“Obviously of you in my bed. All sprawled out. I might have even wished for it.” He laughs out loud. “Of course, then my wish came true. I learned very quickly that I needed to be more specific in my wishes.”
“Oh, are you referring to the night you opened the door, wearing nothing but workout pants? You were slightly out of breath. A little sweaty. I forgot why I was there.”
“I noticed. You were totally checking out my body. Of course, you were shit-faced. I just didn’t know it yet.”
“I asked you what your favorite position was. You said you’d have to show me.”
“And you told me it was for research. Speaking of that …” He pulls me closer and puts his lips on mine.
Which is a wondrous feeling, but I can’t help but be surprised by it. This is Matt. My neighbor, who I lived next door to for a year and only admired from afar. At least he has no idea about that.
“Speaking of what?” I ask coyly in between kisses, wondering if he’s going to bring up his favorite position.
“I read Candy-Coated Love.”
Oh. Shit.
“And I was thinking that the golden retriever in the book sounded a lot like Phoebe.”
“Probably,” I try to say nonchalantly. “I am inspired by everyday events. I’ve always thought that she’s a pretty dog.”
“And what about the guy?” He leans back, gives me a smirk, and speaks in a girlie voice, “A six-foot-plus mountain of lean muscle with a perfect smile, who looks like a fairy-tale prince and has an adorable, playful dog.”
“You memorized the book?”
“Not the book, just that part. And the fact that they live across the hall from each other. Admit it—you’ve been crushing on me this whole time.”
I should deny it. But I’m done fighting with him. “It’s all true.”
“Excellent,” he says. “Because I was thinking about candy-coating myself later.”
“Excuse me?”
“You like chocolate, right? And I was hoping that, tonight, I could talk you into coming to my place.” And just when I think, Oh, that’s so sweet, literally, he cracks a grin. “Maybe we could do it in the missionary position?”
“Ah! That was a low blow! You can’t use my stories against me.”
“Oh, really?” He laughs. “It’s because of the book that I have chocolate. And champagne chilling. Rose petals on the bed. I’ll bring you coffee and breakfast in the morning—just like your hero did in the book.”
I falter for a moment as the story comes back to me.
“I want that again,” I blurt out.
“Wait?! The book wasn’t about me? Shit.”
“Oh no. It totally was about you, but that’s not what I meant. I know the sexy stuff is selling, and I know it was good for me to get out there, but it’s not what I want to write. I like crafting sweet stories where I focus on a couple’s relationship, not their sex life. The kind of book where you can feel their love through the pages.”
“Then, that’s what you should do. Which works out for me because I’d like to date you, Kitty. Just you. And I feel like that would be hard to do if you were dating guys for research.”
“But back to the candy-coated part,” I say, quickly changing the subject.
He looks down the front of my dress and grins. “Does that mean you’ll come over tonight, Valentine?”
“I will. And who knows? With enough champagne, maybe I’ll reenact the first night I slept in your bed.”
“Minus the puking,” he says.
“Deal.”
Sometime very early in the morning, before the sun is up, I do wake up in a similar fashion to that first time—my eyes coming to rest on a naked shoulder next to me.
To a dog who barks the second I move.
“How are you feeling?” Matt asks with a knowing look.
Only this time, he’s not referring to the fact that I was drunk. He’s referring to the fact that last night was hands down the best night of my life. The best sex of my life.
“Perfect,” I say dreamily. “The chocolate was amazing.”
“Oh, break my heart. Surely, that wasn’t the only thing that was amazing.”
“Hmm,” I tease. “Let me think about it. I did enjoy doing a little striptease for you.”
He pulls me closer to him, allowing me to feel his naked body against mine—and one part in particular seems to be standing at attention.
“I enjoyed that as well.”
I expect him to tease me a little, but instead, he bends down and kisses my forehead. A total boyfriend move.
“I loved everything about last night.” He takes a deep breath and then says, “And I’m pretty sure that I love you, Kitty Valentine.”
If I were writing this scene in a book, my heroine’s breath would catch, and she would shed a tear, saying something perfectly romantic back. But this isn’t a book. It’s my life.
I mean, I do breathe in. I do find tears pooling in my eyes. And I say the only thing I can think of, “On the rooftop.”
“Um, what?”
And I know what he’s thinking. What the hell is she even talking about? And I know what I should say, but it’s just jumbled up because I’m feeling slightly woozy and warm inside. Is this what real love or true love feels like?
“On the rooftop. My rooftop party. I, um … you asked me if I knew what I was going to wish for. I wished for this. For you.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to make breakfast?”
“Oh no. That’s so I’ll keep you.”
“And what do you have to do to keep me?”
I roll my eyes and don’t reply. I don’t need to. I just reach down under the covers and let my hand answer his question.
I feel something wet and cold against my hand, which is hanging off the edge of the mattress. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Phoebe. I reach down, smile at her, and give her head a pat.
I roll over, wondering why she’s out of her kennel, and realize that Matt isn’t in bed with me. For a second, I almost wonder if everything that happened last night was just some amazing dream.
But then he walks in the room. Shirtless, carrying a tray of food.
God, does it get any better than this?
But it does—when he smiles at me.
“I thought the smell of coffee might wake you,” he says.
“Phoebe thought it was time I got up.”
“She’s raring to go. I took her outside real quick when I got up, but I wasn’t going to leave you long enough to take her for our usual walk.”
“I wouldn’t have minded.”
“I know you, Kitty,” he says. “You would have freaked out when I was gone and thought I was trying to get away from you.”
“Well, you have hidden in my apartment before to get away from a few girls.”
“True, but this is now.” He sets the tray on my lap and then gets back into bed with me. “I told her we’d go for a long walk later. Don’t forget, you’re supposed to meet Hayley for brunch this morning.”
“Oh shit. What time is it?”
“Nine. You aren’t meeting until eleven, right?”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, that’s right.”
“And we worked up an appetite last night. So, eat.”
I can’t help but smile. “Yes, we did.”
We relax in bed, lazily eating. Drinking our coffees, chatting about nothing but the weather. I’m acting all calm and cool, but I am internally trying to decide how to get out of brunch.
I can’t go to brunch.
Not now. Not when I finally got to sleep with Matt.
Not after he told me he’s pretty sure that he loves me.
Because I don’t ever want to spin that stupid wheel again.
“I’m not feeling great,” I lie. “I think it was the champagne. I’m going to call Hayley and cancel.”
Matt suggestively slides his hand up my inner thigh. “Are you sure it’s not just because you want to stay here in bed with me all day?”
Oh. That’s an even better idea than pretending to be sick.
I grin at him. “That’s exactly what I want. I just need an excuse.”
“Tell her where you are. Right now. That you’re naked. She’ll understand,” he says with a smirk.
I sigh. “I know she would, but I’m not sure I want to tell her just yet.”
“She’s your best friend. You tell her everything.”
“It’s new, Matt. This. Us. I’m just not ready to tell her.” Or admit that it’s really real. I’m afraid if I say it out loud, I might break the spell.
“Do you think she’ll be surprised?”
“Probably not. It’s just that … I’m supposed to spin the wheel.”
“Oh, that,” he says, nodding his head.
“Yes, that,” I reply, waiting on bated breath to hear his reaction. To have him tell me he doesn’t ever want me to spin that thing again.
“Then, you definitely have to go.”
“Wait. What? You’re okay with me dating someone else?”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there,” he says, patting my butt and shooing me out of his bed. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
Work something out?
“Since it’s for your job and all.”
And I’m a little troubled by this. Because if I can date, so can he.
CHAPTER TWO
There’s got to be some sort of award coming my way. Like a Nobel Prize or something. Whatever they give to people who somehow manage to drag themselves out of bed, away from an incredibly sexy man—the man they have been drooling over forever—to have brunch with a friend.
I go over to my apartment and tousle my hair, and I’m totally surprised by how good I look. How happy. I get dressed and am ready in no time because I know that the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can get home and back into bed with Matt.
Like, if he wants to hang out with me some more.
Now that I think about it, he didn’t say anything about later.
Oh well. Don’t care. I’m going over there and offering myself up for another night of sexual fun.
As I enter the restaurant, Hayley waves at me from a booth against the wall.
I get a quick look-over and a low whistle. “Wow. You look great.”
She knows. Does she know?
I slide into the booth, settle in, and wonder why she chose this diner instead of her preferred fancy brunch place. Although, based on the aroma, I can probably guess why. It smells amazing.
“This is why we are friends,” I tell her. “You always make me feel good.”
“Or was it Matt?” she asks, cutting straight to the point.
“Um, uh,” I stutter. Come on, Kitty. Tell her. You’re dying to. “What makes you say that?”
“You were dancing pretty close at the wedding,” she says, studying me. “You looked like a couple in love. I hoped that might transition into the bedroom.”
I’m trying to decide what to say when our waiter asks if we are ready to order.
“Coffee?” I ask Hayley.
“Hair of the dog is what the doctor ordered. Turns out, I overindulged a little last night. Thus, our brunch spot for this morning.” She turns to the waiter and holds up two fingers. “Bloody Marys, please.”
“You don’t look hungover,” I say, noting her sparkling eyes. “You just look in love.”
“I’m not actually hungover. Just hungry. Starving actually.” She gives the waiter a toss of her hair and says, “We’ll figure out our order while you grab our drinks.”
He leaves, and we peruse the menu in silence for a moment.
When she sets her menu down, she says to me, “I am in love. Very in love. Isn’t it so fun that we’re in love at the same time?”
“Have I actually admitted to being in love with Matt?”
“You don’t have to. I already know.”
Our drinks are set in front of us, and let me tell you, they are huge.
“This is like brunch in a drink. Do we even need to order?” I say with a laugh as I take in all the things skewered on a stick.
“It’s supposed to be the biggest Bloody Mary in town. I suppose I could let you read about it, but it’s more fun to tell you. This delightful drink in front of you,” she says, mimicking a salesperson, “has organic vodka, Bloody Mary mix, a jumbo shrimp, a slice of bacon, a beef stick, some peppers and olives, and two cream cheese–filled celery sticks.”
“You want to order?” our waiter asks, causing us to realize he’s still there.
As per usual, Hayley doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ll have the lobster grilled cheese and sweet potato fries.”
“And I’ll have the cheeseburger and rosemary truffle hash browns.”
The second he’s gone, Hayley holds her drink up in the air. “A toast,” she says. “To friends, great loves, and of course, books.”
“Books?”
She takes a sip of her drink and a bite of bacon before nodding her head and saying, “Yes, books. Don’t forget, today’s the day. We have to spin. You have a call with Maggie tomorrow still, right?”
“Right,” I say, my stomach sinking. Is Matt really going to be cool with me dating someone else, even in the name of research? The thought distresses me. “You surprise me, Hayley.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you usually get something healthy, like avocado toast or an egg-white-omelet type thing.”
She waves her hand through the air and picks up her drink again, taking a big gulp. “I decided it was a cheat day. Make that, a whole cheat weekend. I think I ate my body weight in stuffed mushrooms and desserts at the wedding last night. I could barely button my jeans this morning.” She arches an eyebrow. “So, I notice you didn’t argue about my using the words great loves in our toast.”
“Aren’t we a little old for word games?”
“If it means that you’re getting used to the idea of being head over heels in love. So, come on. Spill. Tell me what happened last night.”
“We danced.”
“I mean, after the reception. Want to know what Nicholas and I did?”
“You went home and had sex?”
“For a romance writer, that was a pretty boring way to put it. For your information, we did go home and have sex. But sex with him is more than just a good time in bed. He’s amazing. We’re incredible together. Every. Single. Time.”
“Fine. I’m in love with Matt. There. I said it.”
“Sorry, sorry, but what? Did you just say that? You’re admitting you have feelings for him?”
“Yes, okay? I’m in love with Matt. With my annoyingly hot neighbor who makes fun of me all the time.”
She props up her chin on her palm, batting her eyelashes. “Also the Matt who takes care of you when you’re sick.”
“And who has an adorable dog. He’s the full package. I just don’t know,” I admit.
And I know what’s going on. Even though last night was amazing, I’m freaking out a bit. I love him. And now, I’m about to spin the wheel. And he’s okay with it.
“Don’t know what?”
“If I’m enough for him,” I practically whisper. “You should have seen the girls he brought home. They were all beautiful. And a lot of them were really nice. I’m … just a mess. Always.”
She sighs. “I knew we’d get to the heart of it eventually. It’s scary. I know that. I mean, here I am, wondering if Nicholas and I have what it takes to justify a move across the country. I’d be leaving behind everything I’ve ever known.”
Is it a coincidence that she drains what’s left of her drink moments after she finishes speaking? I’m guessing not. And I’m instantly worried about her. Now that I take a good look at her, I notice she doesn’t look as pulled together as usual. And it’s not her typical work stress. She’s happy but stressed about her life.
“What are you going to do?” I ask her.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” she says. “And it’s so stressful. But I think I need to move with him regardless of if they give me my transfer. Because it’s what my heart wants. Even if my head has a million reasons why it’s a stupid idea. And my parents will freak, knowing that I’m giving up my job at a highly regarded firm for the unknown. They will say I’m ruining my life for a man. They will ask me, What happens if it doesn’t work out?”
“And what if it doesn’t?” I ask and then realize that was the wrong thing to say. “I don’t mean that I think it won’t. I think you and Nicholas are meant to be together. I just meant, like, what’s the worse-case scenario? It doesn’t work, and you come back home. You could live with me or your sister if you needed to. I’ll always help you. You know that, right? And even though the thought of not having the option of brunch with you every weekend makes me really sad, I understand.”
“Oh, don’t say that. You’re going to make me cry,” she says, sounding choked up. But then she shakes her head at me and says, “Before I go though, we have to figure out your life.”
“One interesting thing did happen last night. Matt told me that he read Candy-Coated Love.”
“Ohhh, that’s the one that’s basically about him and Phoebe, right?” she says as our food arrives and we start eating.
“Yeah, but it got me thinking.”
“Uh-oh,” she says with a laugh.
“I miss it. I miss writing those kinds of stories. The meet-cutes. The first time they hold hands. Kiss. All those sweet little moments that show their love outside of the bedroom. Or wherever.”
“Then, do it. Maggie has to know that you can’t keep dating guys for research for the rest of your life. Especially if you and Matt are together.”
“Whatever happened to letting nothing stand in the way of my career?”
“I don’t know. I guess my opinion has changed.”
“Because you have Nicholas now.”
She arches an eyebrow. “That could be. You’re probably right about that. Oh my God. I’m doing that, aren’t I? All the things I said you should never do. I’m giving up my career for a man. What is wrong with me?”
“You’re maybe, possibly giving up your job, not your career,” I say, but I can tell she’s freaking out. “You’ll still be an attorney either way.”
“I need to be bold. And so do you. Talk to Maggie about what you want to write. Because why can’t you just write from your imagination?”
“I don’t know. But I get the idea she’s stressed about her job, and she’s afraid to change things up. Maybe she’s superstitious.” I pick at the rest of my hash browns, which are delicious.
“Well … you still need to spin to decide the next book, but you need to be a big girl and tell her that this is the last one. That you will either continue to do tropes but not spin or date or you will go back to writing what you want.”
“That’s easier said than done, you realize,” I counter. “I’ve saved some money from my advances, and I’ll have royalties coming in for most of my life, but without new releases, those will wither down to nothing.”
Out comes the spinner regardless.
“We both need to figure out how to balance our careers with what we want out of life.”
“Do you have any answers?” I say, taking a big gulp of my drink.
“I wish I did. But I’m leaning toward love.”
“Okay, let’s get it over with. Do you think we can manage one more?” Hayley asks
“We?” I wonder.
“Okay, me. But I need the moral support,” I say.
“Kitty, you don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want to. It’s up to you.”
“Just spin it. For me.”
“I have a good feeling about this one.” She taps her fingers on the table and hops up and down a little.
“What did you do to it this time?” And I can’t help but wonder if she rigged it like she had for the best man.
“Nothing.” She presses her lips together in a thin line and looks down at the table.
“Lies.” Is it my imagination, or is she softly humming “Jingle Bells”? My eyes narrow. “Wait. You didn’t.”
She sets the spinner moving with an ear-to-ear smile. I can only close my eyes and pray for strength at this point.
“Oh my goodness, Kitty! You got Hot Santa!”
“No.”
“Yes!”
“Hayley, I can’t date Santa.”
“And why not?” she asks.
“Because he was an addition—by you! And the real Santa isn’t even located in New York. He’s at the North Pole. Everyone knows that.”
“It will be fun,” Hayley pleads.
“I hate you so much,” I say with a grin.
“You have to date Santa. You have to date Santa,” she says in a singsong voice. “Finally! I get my wish!”
“What does any of this have to do with you?”
“I just want to say my best friend dated Santa. What’s wrong with that?”
“Uh, for starters, most men who play Santa aren’t exactly young. Or attractive.”
“How would you know? Do you troll Santa actor websites in your spare time?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, yes. It’s how I like to unwind.”
“We’ll figure something out. Leave it to me.”
I love her. I trust her.
But I doubt even my amazing bestie can figure this one out.
Especially since I haven’t told her about what really happened with Matt last night.
And again this morning.
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