Wrecking Ball (Hard To Love Book 1) by P. Dangelico

Author:P. Dangelico [Dangelico, P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781532316036
Published: 2017-01-18T18:30:00+00:00

When I wake the next morning, my head throbs from an emotional hangover like I’ve been on an all night bender. Minus the fun, of course. I’m in bed, fully clothed with a blanket thrown over me…hmmm. I don’t even recall getting home last night––and thank my maker it’s Saturday because I’m positive I would’ve been useless to Sam today. A shower will have to wait for later since it’s already eight and he’s probably wondering where his breakfast is.

Throwing on a white button down and skinny jeans, I dash downstairs…and come to an abrupt halt when I spy two Shaw men sitting at the recently delivered kitchen table. Sam is busy digging into a large stack of misshapen pancakes while Calvin eats the last bite of his eggs.

“Who cooked breakfast?” I ask in open surprise. I take a seat at the table and load my plate with food. Sam glances at Calvin, who’s watching me with alarming focus.

“Are these pancakes square?” All I get is a short nod. “Please stop looking at me that way.”

“How often does it happen?”

“May I be excused?” Sam cuts in.

“I thought since it’s raining we could go to the New York Aquarium today? What do you say?” Sam nods quickly. “Go on and get ready.” I barely finish my sentence and he’s already bolting out of his seat with a big smile on his face. His adorableness almost too much.

Turning my attention back onto the pancakes, I say, “Often enough.” I can’t look at him. I’m hanging onto the edge of control with only a bare grasp on my emotions, what that woman said about Matt hovering over me like a black cloud.

“What did she say to you?”

After a long, long pause, in which I decide I’m too beaten down to verbally spar with him, I go with the truth. “She asked if you were impotent.”

The coffee comes flying out of his nose and lands right between my breasts. Hacking and coughing, he stands so quickly the chair topples backward. I get up and pound on his back. Then he tries to dab my white button down with his napkin and I have to swat his hand away from my breast. He actually scowls at me for that.

“What did you say,” he wheezes.

“I told her you weren’t.”

That starts a whole new coughing fit. “You did?”

“A: she took me by surprise,” I indicate with my thumb. “And B: what did you want me to say? ‘I haven’t given him a prostate exam yet but I’ll let you know.’”

“Jaysus,” he half chuckles.

“Everyone will believe I’m your girlfriend now.”

His wheels are spinning, his mind jumping from one possible scenario to another. It’s all over his face, and in the way he studies mine.

“You okay with that?”

“I guess. We’ll have to see though, won’t we?” I say, resigned to my fate.

The silence feels like we’re standing on the precipice of something important, a turning point in our relationship that could go either way.

“I won’t make you regret it.” His expression is so open and earnest that I almost forget that I should be worried.

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