Sweet Agony by Christy Pastore

Author:Christy Pastore [Pastore, Christy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Cardwell Family Series, Book Two
Publisher: Christy Pastore Publishing
Published: 2019-10-02T18:30:00+00:00

Caroline

After a long run, I shower and make it to Brant’s place just after six. I hike up the stairs because the elevator is out of order.

And I feel like I need another shower. The boob sweat is real.

When I step up to the door, my heartrate kicks into overdrive. My knuckles rap on the door a few times and a heartbeat later, Brant opens it. The smell of tomatoes and basil hangs in the air.

“Hi,” he says, pushing the door open. “Where’s Julep?”

“Funny enough, Ma was grilling steaks for her and Ted when I left. Julep wouldn’t have anything to do with me.”

He kisses me and butterflies zip around my stomach.

What’s with my nerves?

“Hope you like stuffed shells.”

“Oh, for sure. I’ve never met a pasta I didn’t like.”

“So, I thought we’d start with some cocktails while I finish dinner.” Brant slings some ice into two tumblers.

“What’s the cocktail tonight?” I take a seat at the island and watch him as he gets to work in the kitchen.

My gaze sweeps over the long lines of his body, admiring his height and heft. He’s powerful and gorgeous at the same time. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and dark denim jeans that hug his ass very well.

“Here ya go. One Manhattan.”

“Thank you, bartender.” I take a drink and it warms my belly. “That’s really good. I always thought a Manhattan was a drink enjoyed by older people. Serious drinkers, even.”

His dark brows lift. “That’s a rumor. Actually, the Manhattan is a drink that causes arguments among friends. Basically, some feel the Manhattan must be made with rye whiskey. Others maintain it should be made with bourbon. But no one can argue that it’s pure booze. So sip it slowly.”

I nod and take a sip of the concoction. “So, tell me about your day?”

He gives me that pulse pounding smile. “Well, I found out that Royston did offer to buy Cranberry Ridge from your mom. He wanted the land and the house too.”

I gasp. “Wow. Why?”

His humor-filled smile meets my concerned stare. “Apparently, he wants . . . wanted to renovate and turn it into an inn. No worries though, your mom told him no.”

My brow furrows. “Well, thanks a lot, Ma, for including me in the decision.”

Brant drains the pasta shells and rinses them with cool water. “Would you have sold?”

“Probably, if the price was right. I mean, I told you that it’s not my dream. And as much as I love my place, I dunno, downtown is kinda growing on me.”

Brant sets the shells aside. And pulls a large bowl from the fridge that contains the filling for the shells. “Well, if you ever want to move, I know a guy who owns an apartment building.”

“You own a building?”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Where?”

“You’re in it.” His eyes gleam with delight.

“Well, I’ll be sure and let you know.”

Brant is full of surprises. And if I’m being honest, I really like that about him. A man who can keep me on my toes and smiling.

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