Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
His face flickered with amusement. “I got her six, man.”
“You two enjoy the rest of your night.” Nash saluted them. “Happy New Year.”
With a wave, he left the pair, feeling lighter despite his unresolved shit with Haisley. At least she was back for good. He intended to use that to his advantage and remind her every single day of the connection they shared until he wore her down and she fell into his arms again.
Striding out into the crisp night air, he pulled out his phone and quickly located her new place—a little craftsman bungalow just two point six miles from his own rental. He couldn’t resist taking a detour for some quick recon, but all the pretty blue cottage’s windows were dark and still. No car in the drive, so it was probably in the garage around back.
Nash restrained his urge to pound on her door, kiss his way between her legs, and start the new year off right. She wasn’t open to being with him again—yet. But he was determined. No more volunteering for the riskiest ops or using other women to try and fill the Haisley-shaped hole in his heart. He would win her back and slide that diamond on her finger once and for all.
As he kickstarted his bike and peeled away into the starry night, Nash felt a surge of clarity. Of purpose. For his future. All he had to do was break through her walls and coax her back into his arms…and his life. Not that she would make it easy. Haisley was one obstinate woman. Good thing he was a stubborn son of a bitch, more than ready for the sweetest battle of his life. Haisley was a prize worth sacrificing everything to reclaim.
Nash gunned his engine and headed home, vaguely wondering what was happening between Gracelyn and Kane. Maybe nothing. Maybe a one-night stand. Maybe more. After all, he and Haisley hadn’t started out as more than a scratching of their mutual itches.
That night seemed like forever ago, and he wished like hell he could go back and change so many things…
January
Three years ago
Saturday night, and Nash was fucking spending it alone. Yeah, he could go to one of the bars around town and find some temporary company, but he couldn’t muster the enthusiasm.
Because he didn’t want just anyone. He wanted Haisley Rowe. He cursed the obnoxious party guest who had drunkenly interrupted their kiss. Since that August night, he’d thought about her a lot. But life—and Haisley herself—had conspired to keep them apart.
Nash had been away protecting a senatorial candidate in DC, a paranoid internet influencer in LA, and a federal judge receiving death threats in New Orleans. Then he’d spent the holidays in West Virginia with his folks. When he’d been in Lafayette, he had glimpsed Haisley a few times since they’d locked lips—and every single time she’d invented excuses to run away like her very fine ass was on fire.
After Christmas, the first thing he’d done was hunt her down at Highrise. Goddamn if she hadn’t given him the cold shoulder again—while eating him up with those pretty blue eyes. Oh, she’d pretended to flirt with some local redneck, but she clearly hadn’t meant it because she hadn’t left with him.
And that was the real reason Nash wasn’t at a random bar tonight, getting his drink on and hitting on a more willing female. He and Haisley had unfinished business. Besides, no other woman measured up.
Fuck, he had it bad.
A knock on his apartment door interrupted Nash’s musings. He wasn’t expecting company. He was suspicious by nature, and caution had saved his ass more than once, so he tucked his SIG in his holster and slowly opened the door.
Well, well, well… Speak of the devil.
Haisley stood on his doorstep, one hand gripping an unopened bottle of whiskey, her fiery hair curled and tousled. His hungry gaze dropped, snagging on the rosy pout of her lips. His eyes nearly popped out when he took in the tiny black dress that molded to her lush curves, revealing glimpses of her creamy, toned thighs.
Damn if she didn’t look like she’d stepped straight out of his most scorching fantasies.
“Hey, hotshot.”
Her seductive murmur, along with a cocky grin, had him hard in two seconds.
“Haisley Rowe. Just who I wanted to see.” He leaned against his doorframe. “What’s up?”
“Nice to know you haven’t forgotten me.” She peeked around him, nosing into his apartment. “You alone?”
“Not anymore.” He stepped back and invited her inside with a sweep of his hand. “I got back from an op at two this morning and spent most of the day sleeping. Have a seat. Sorry the place is a mess.”
Her smile turned sly. “I heard you were back, and I didn’t come to critique your housekeeping.”
“Good. I have other, more critical skills that might interest you,” he rasped out in a low tone as she brushed past him and entered his living room.