Twisted Reality (Blind Reality #2) (31 page)

“People should be jealous of me.” I trail my finger down Jolie’s cheek and she smiles. Her eyes are the color of Joey’s—light blue, but sometimes gray or green.

“Why’s that?” Joey asks.

“Because I have the most gorgeous wife and legit the prettiest baby ever.”

“Maybe we should bottle your sperm and sell it.” Joey laughs, but I don’t find it funny.

“Sorry, babe. My junk is strictly for you.”

“That’s the best answer.” She leans back into my chest and continues to nurse Jolie. When she switches sides, so do I. I like watching them together, burning them into my memory.

“Thank you, Joey.”

“For what?”

“For not giving up on me when it would’ve been so easy to do, for seeing me as more than an actor and making me believe in myself, in you, and in love. For giving me a chance when others tried to fuck it up for us. And most importantly, for making me a father. Jolie is the best gift I could’ve ever asked for.”

Joey leans to the side and presses her lips against mine. I hold her there, cupping her cheek. When Jolie grunts, we both laugh and pull away.

“She’s jealous.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You know,” I say, flexing my arm. “I’m told I’m a catch.”

Joey rolls her eyes. “Only in your twisted reality, Joshua Freaking Wilson … and in mine, too.”

That’s a compliment that I’ll take to the bank!

The End!

To my crew, as always, thank you for everything that you do to help bring each idea to life. You guys put up with a lot of harebrained ideas and I appreciate it. Amy, Audrey, Tammy and Veronica – you guys work so hard to make sure everyone knows about my stories, thank you.

The design team, Sarah and Emily, thank you for always being there!

Thank you, Melissa and Virginia, thank you for dropping everything and helping me out.

To my family – as always I appreciate everything you do.

Heidi is a
New York Times
and
USA Today
Bestselling author.

Originally from Portland, Oregon and raised in the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup and a Highland Westie/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL and her brother, Racicot.

When she isn’t writing one of the many stories planned for release, you’ll find her sitting courtside during either daughter’s basketball games.

“C
rank, you stupid piece of donkey shit. Just two more miles, that’s it. I promise to never starve you again!” I yelled, slamming my hands against the steering wheel. I turned the key one last time, but the damn thing just sputtered. Groaning, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wheel.

My sister was busy working at the restaurant we owned, and my best friend was most likely busy with her new, dreamy, football-playing husband. I had no one to call. When had I become such a loser?

Huffing, I pulled a pair of shorts and a tank top out of my bag and stripped down. If I was going to walk two miles in the blistering heat, I wasn’t going to do it wearing a blouse and pants. Already drenched in sweat, I got out of the car and winced as the sun beat down on my skin. There wasn’t a single cloud to hide the unforgiving sun. Summer was brutal in North Carolina.

“This has to be payback for something,” I whined, trekking alongside the road. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, the worst time of day. Either everyone was at work, or at home, relaxing by their pools. I was never going to let my car get below a quarter of a tank again. Ever.

A couple of people honked their horns, but no one stopped. What ever happened to southern hospitality?

A rumble came up from behind and a muffled shout called out, “Lara!”

Jerking to a stop, my breath caught in my lungs. I was surprised he would even take the time to pull over for someone in need. Luke Collins was all about getting pussy, twenty-four-seven. And I hated the fact I’d ever had a crush on him. Granted, he had gotten much worse since losing Kate to Cooper, but he was just
such
a douchebag. I guess putting his dick in whatever skank he could find was his way of dealing with a broken heart.

“Lara?” he shouted again.

Placing my hands on my hips, I turned, the light breeze from cars driving by blew my blonde hair into my face. He shut off his bike and slid off his helmet, his hair drenched in sweat. He gave me a smile that made me shiver.
Damn him.
“What do you want, Luke?”

“I saw your car down the road and figured you needed help.” He paused and raked his gaze down my body. “Unless you’ve got a new job I don’t know about. You
are
looking pretty hot in those shorts.”

I scoffed and muttered, “I guess I should’ve expected that, having a vagina and all.”

He squinted and leaned forward. “What?”

“It was good of you to notice,” I said loudly. “But I don’t think many men will want me after I’ve been out here, sweating my ass off.”

His gaze lowered to my hips. “We don’t want that, now do we, cupcake? I like it the way it is. Where are you going?”

Rolling my eyes, I took a step back and continued walking backward, refusing to give him another chance to check out my ass. “To the gas station. My car ran out of gas.”

Grinning from ear to ear, he started his bike and slowly trailed me.“I see. Then it looks like I get to rescue you.”

“More like patronize me. Why are you even here? Don’t you have some groupies waiting for you somewhere?”

He chuckled and nodded toward something behind me. “Head’s up.”

Gasping, I turned around and almost walked headfirst into a road sign. I dodged it and turned right back around, giving him my front once again.

“I know my face is gorgeous and you can’t get enough, but maybe you should turn around and watch where you’re walking.”

“As if.” I huffed. “I don’t want you staring at my ass. I know how you are.”

“Then get on my bike. I’ll take you to get some gas.”

“No thanks. I’ll do it on my own.”

He revved his engine, his smile fading. “No, you’re not, Lara. Now get on the damn bike.” Turning around, he unhooked the extra helmet from the back and held it out to me. “It’s a hundred degrees out here, you’re being ridiculous.”

I huffed and continued walking. “I’ll be fine.”

Slamming on the brakes, he got off his bike and stalked toward me. “You don’t have any water, and I don’t see anyone else stopping to give you a hand. Now stop being a silly woman, and get on the fucking bike.”

“What, are you going to make me? Get over yourself. I’ll be fine.”

He cracked his knuckles. “I’ll chase you down. You can’t outrun me, cupcake. I wouldn’t even try.”

He was right, and it drove me crazy. I didn’t want to be indebted to him under any circumstances, but would I really cut my nose off to spite my face? It was scorching out, and I didn’t need to get heatstroke over this. “Fine, I’ll come with you,” I said, giving in.

A triumphant smile splayed across his face and I wanted to smack it off. He held the helmet out to me and I put it on, not having any idea how to work the straps.

Grabbing my waist, he pulled me toward him. “Here, let me fix it.” His fingers brushed against my neck as he tightened the straps. After he was done, he stared at me with his sea-green eyes. “Feel okay?”