Stuck with Me: A Small-Town Enemies to Lovers Romance by August LeAnne

Author:August, LeAnne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LeAnne August
Published: 2023-12-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Rosie

Fucking Nico made me shed a few tears over this whole Gigi and his granddad fiasco. But I need to shake the thoughts of them from my mind. After I pushed him out on the porch, my wrist has been throbbing. I take a few painkillers and grab a smutty novel Cammie insisted I read out of my suitcase. Maybe getting lost in a fictional billionaire/nanny escapade will distract me.

It’s early afternoon and despite it being still light out, there’s no sun, meaning it’s darker in the cabin than usual. Since the power is still out, I light several candles and place them strategically around the open living space of the cabin. Before I curl up underneath a blanket on the couch with my book, I toss a couple more logs into the fire.

A few pages in, the front door opens and Nico ducks his head in from the cold. I quickly flick my attention to my book. From my peripheral, I see Nico smirk and shake his head. He studies me for a moment. Like he’s considering saying something to me.

He better fucking not.

He must catch onto my icy disposition and takes the hint, he doesn’t speak. He takes off his boots and shuffles down the hallway. I exhale a breath.

When I get to the part of the book where the billionaire has just made a homecooked meal for him and the nanny but then says something cheesy like, I’d rather eat you than this delicious meal, Nico struts into the kitchen and I can hear him rustling with things behind me.

The nanny responds with a cheesy line, devour me, Mr. Blah blah blah, and I’ll devour you right back.

With one swipe of his arm, the billionaire flings the homecooked meal off the counter sending dishes and food crashing to the floor. He tosses the nanny onto the marble counter and, big surprise, she isn’t wearing any panties. I inwardly groan. So predictable. But finally, at least she’s going to get some.

Nico interrupts my reading when he holds a glass of whiskey in between my line of vision and my book.

Damn. Right when I was finally getting to the good part.

I don’t look at him, but I do accept the whiskey. No one in their right mind says no to whiskey.

When he dangles a Kit-Kat in front of my face, I finally do glance over my shoulder at him where he’s standing behind the couch.

“Truce?” he says, and it comes out sounding all growly.

I hate the way his voice heats my core and gets me all twisted up inside. Or maybe it’s the book. That nanny was about to get eaten out with so much attention and precision. And rightfully so. Men written by women authors—chef’s kiss.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I snatch the Kit-Kat from his grip. I also never turn down chocolate. But I’m not sure I’m ready to make up with this guy. How many times do I have to put up with him being

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