My husband candidly asked me what I was doing the day after Love Exactly was published. He cocked his head and shook it before I could answer. “Don’t tell me you’re writing another book.” I shrugged. He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you ever take a break?” he continued. I shrugged again saying, “No, not really.”
These people inside my head just won’t shut up…So meet Adam, and River…They grew up together, best friends with each other and Adam’s older brother Bobby. Here’s the thing: River loves Adam, Bobby loves River, Adam only loves himself…or so everyone thinks.
“You really don’t like her, huh?” he asked as he placed his arm around my seat, looking over his shoulder to back up the car.
“I don’t like any of your girlfriends. You have bad taste,” I shot back.
I could feel the warmth of his arm against the back of my bare neck, and despite how I tried to hang onto the feeling, it wicked away the anger I was feeling at him for the accusation. He left his arm there and sunk into the seat, steering with one hand.
“What’s wrong with my taste in women?”
“They’re never good enough for you—you choose these high maintenance big boobed bitches, who don’t respect you for anything but your sculpted body,” I replied.
He shrugged, his lips tugging at the corner as he formulated his no doubt cocky response, “What’s wrong with having women who worship my body?”
I leaned forward and slapped my forehead. “I should know better. I really should.”
His arm slipped from behind the seat and his hand went to my knee and squeezed.
“If it makes you feel any better I think you date a bunch of Cro-Magnon idiots.”
“That’s not my fault. Tara keeps setting me up with them,” I shot back.
Adam kept his hand on my knee. “You’re the one who continues to see them after the first failure of a date.”
“A girl has needs,” I answered, looking out the corner of my eye and waiting for his answer.
His nostrils flared as he thought over my response.
“I’m going to choose not to respond to that,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
His hand came off my knee and he gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
“You know what? I’m not going to leave it be! You deserve someone who worships you…knows your favorite color, your favorite fruit…that you’re afraid of the dark—“
“Hey! You’re not supposed to ever mentioned that!”
He looked over at me his eyes washing over my face before turning to the road.
“You think I deserve better—I don’t think I do, but I know you do.”