ROMeANTICALLY CHALLENGED. Marina Adair

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СКАЧАТЬ just got to have, again her words, not mine.” To his relief, she didn’t do some kind of sex operator impersonation. “She’s saving you the first dance. How sweet.” She looked up. “Although, I bet Tiffani will have a problem coming in second.”

      Shit. He’d been looking forward to this dance for a long time, and he would be pissed if he missed it. “Did she say when the dance was?”

      “No. Now, is that all, or do you want me to recite her number too?”

      “I know it.”

      She considered that. “Do you know all of their numbers?”

      “Nope.” He smiled. “Just Sweet P’s.”

      Paisley’s was the only one that mattered.

      “You might want to tell the others so they stop calling. It only leads to misunderstandings,” she said, all kind of hoity-toity in her tone.

      “So does pigeonholing,” he said without further explanation, impressed by the way she managed to look both accusatory and apologetic.

      It wasn’t his fault Annie had jumped to conclusions. Emmitt worked hard to ensure that when it came to the most important person in his world there were zero misunderstandings—Paisley Rhodes-Bradley was his everything. His beautiful surprise of a daughter who owned his heart.

      “Is the woman who’s holding a bridal dress hostage judging me?”

      “It’s. My. Dress!” She stuck the message to his chest.

      “So you said earlier. I don’t think Clark got the memo.” He pulled off a blank note and stuck it to her collarbone. “Maybe you should write it down for him.”

      She looked at the sticky note, then up at him through her raised brows. Neither gave an inch until the tension between them became murderous. Then she smiled, a bite-me smile that was surprisingly a turn-on.

      “That’s great advice, Emmitt.” She grabbed a pen, scribbled something, then held it up.

      “Fuck off?” He read with a chuckle. “Simple, straightforward, and leaves zero room for misinterpretation. I approve. Do you need an envelope and stamp?”

      “It was meant for you.” She tried to stick it to his forehead but she was too short, so she settled on his chin. His five o’clock shadow was too much for the glue, and they both watched it flutter to the floor. “I would never say that to a friend.”

      “Maybe you should try. Because from where I’m standing, he isn’t a very good friend.”

      “Just because it turned out he’s not my guy doesn’t make him a bad guy,” she said, trying to defend something that, in Emmitt’s opinion, was not defendable. But he’d learned from experience, and she was going to have to come to that conclusion on her own.

      “All I’m saying is, exes can’t be friends.”

      “How about all of those.” She pointed to the stack of sticky notes. “They seemed ready to get friendly.”

      “Those aren’t exes. They’re friends.” He wiggled a brow and she smacked his hand, sending to the floor the notes he was holding.

      “Then why don’t you give one of them a call, see if they want to share a bed with you? Because I don’t, and yours came as part of the rental agreement.”

      Emmitt choked on the residual bubbles stuck in his throat. “What?”

      “Oh yeah,” she purred. “If you want, I can write down the day my lease is up. That way you’ll know how many friends you need to have lined up. I’ll even read it to you.”

      Emmitt rarely spent more than a few weeks in Rome at any one time. In fact, since he’d purchased the house a decade ago, he’d spent more time overseas on assignment than in his cabin. So he’d sometimes rent it out as a rustic Airbnb, splitting the profits with his buddy Levi, who managed things while he was gone.

      “How much time left on your vacation? Morning snuggles for a few days won’t be so bad. I’ll even let you be the big spoon.”

      She moved until she was practically shrink-wrapped to his body. “I’m sure Tiffany wouldn’t mind spooning. But be careful. She might turn into one of those Crazy Cuties.”

      “I’m leaving in a few weeks.” As soon as he got a doctor to sign off so he could go back to work. His editor was intentionally following every rule to the letter. No doctor’s clearance, no more assignments for her news desk. Including the one he’d been injured researching.

      Carmen was a perfect example of why exes should never remain friends. Three years later, she was still holding his nuts to the fire because he’d moved on more quickly than the Girlfriend’s Guide to Breakups thought respectful.

      “Have a nice stay in Rome.” Annie gently took the beer bottle from his fingers. “My lease lasts for another four months and I’m not leaving.”

      With that she swished her ass all the way into the bedroom.

      “It’s been fun,” she said shortly before the door slammed, and he heard the lock engage.

      Chapter 4

      September was in a mood. The air was so thick that with one breath Emmitt choked on the humidity. He took it as a sign that Mother Nature was menopausal and his trip home was going to be a series of hot flashes with intermittent night sweats and unpredictable outbursts.

      Emmitt shoved his hands in his pants pockets and took in the yellow and white house on the other side of the street. The large Cape Cod-style house was family ready with a charming front porch, matching bikes, a mini-me mailbox, and a Subaru that had just enough mom-mobile vibe to give any self-respecting bachelor hives. It was a far cry from the bungalow he’d grown up in a few blocks over.

      It was the kind of place that had happy family written all over it.

      Emmitt had never experienced that kind of family until the day he’d met Paisley.

      One look at her and his entire world had changed. Emmitt had changed. Becoming an insta-dad had that kind of effect. And every day he was changing more and more. He only hoped he could change as fast as Paisley deserved.

      But instead of knocking on the front door, he stood on the curb sweating his balls off in a hoodie and ballcap, looking like some kind of stalker casing the joint. By tomorrow his stealth homecoming would likely make the front page of the morning paper, and he wanted Paisley to hear it from him first. Which was why, instead of picking the lock and climbing into bed with his smart-mouthed tenant, Emmitt had come here.

      Ignoring the sweat on his brow, which had nothing to do with Mother Nature, Emmitt strode up the cobblestone pathway to the bright red door. There was a wreath of sunflowers hanging in the center, twinkle lights lining the porch rail and twisting up each of the columns, and a bronzed plaque on the wood shingled wall, reading THE TANNER FAMILY.

      Emmitt let that sink in, and even after ten years it didn’t sit right.

      He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes and, ignoring how gritty they СКАЧАТЬ