Gianna: Love you.
Me: xoxoxo
I pause, staring at the screen and appreciating how lucky I am to have friends like Gianna and Astrid.
The three of us met in our first year of high school after my father took a job in Nashville. It was culture shock being from Boston, and my brother absolutely hated it. I, however, fell madly in love with everything about Tennessee, and having Astrid and Gianna welcome me into their fold was the cherry on top.
Shivering, I slide my phone into my purse and contemplate getting out the taser.But what are the odds that I need it?Besides, after a second look at the steps leading into the cabin, I’ll probably need both hands free in case I fall on the ice.
“The first step is always the hardest,” I say, bracing for the cold.
I grab my laptop bag from the passenger’s seat and tuck it into my jacket. Then I open my door, testing the slipperiness of the ground. It’s slick, but not too terribly treacherous, so I gingerly step out and swing the door shut behind me.
“Oh, this is nasty,” I whimper, making a beeline to the porch while getting pummeled with precipitation. The steps are coated with a glaze of sleet, and it takes careful use of the railing and all the balance I learned as a ballerina in my younger years to ascend them without my feet sliding right out from under me.By the time I make it inside, my teeth are chattering like a woodpecker.
“Maybe I should’ve waited until spring to have my personal awakening,” I groan, finding the light switch. As soon as the chandelier comes on, a wave of apple and cinnamon-scented air envelops me. It’s as if I’ve stepped into a cozy cocoon in the middle of the tundra.
For the first time since I left my house in Nashville, I can let my guard down.
I scan the room, taking in the patchwork of rustic features and modern touches. A stone fireplace, with a thick beam serving as the mantel, anchors the living area on my left. A chessboard sits mid-game on an antique map table in front of a worn brown leather sofa. That makes me smile. Chess is the only thing Astrid and Gray had in common when they first met. As soon as they started playing on the same board, so to speak, everything changed, and they fell in love.
“This place is too cute,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence. I can see myself stretched out under the quilt thrown over the sofa—planning and plotting and putting things in motion.
I slip off my shoes and deposit my things on the console in the foyer. My wet clothes cling to my body, holding the chill against my bones.
I turn on every light I pass on my way to Astrid’s bedroom. Dad used to point out that turning the lights on only made my location clearer to the monsters I was afraid were chasing me from the kitchen to my room. Logically, that makes sense, but it’s a piece of logic I’ve never been able to use. I’ll trade immediate gratification that my surroundings are monster-free, even if it tips the predator-prey balance against me later.
“Where is the switch?” I whisper, sliding my hand around the wall of Astrid’s room. I nudge what I believe to be a picture frame before my fingers hit the lever. “There you are.”
I flick it upward, and a soft halogen glow paints the room. I spend no time appreciating the thick green bedding or the adorable picture of Gray and Astrid on the nightstand. It’s cold,I’m freezing, and the noise from the storm outside is crazy loud. Instead, I race to the closet and rifle through Astrid’s drawers until I find a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.
I tug off my socks and shove my jeans down my hips until they pool on the floor around my feet. Stepping out of them, I pull my sweatshirt over my head and drop it next to me. As I turn to grab the sweatpants, I catch a glimpse of myself in a full-length mirror and pause. “Oh.”
My cheeks are rosy and my lips bright red from biting them while I drove. Neither surprises me after that wild trip. But what does shock me is the baby-blue lingerie Gianna forced me to buy because it matches my eyes. It’s been in my dresser for over a year, untouched. The bra is practically see-through, and the panties are so small that they’re pointless. But they are pretty, feminine,sexy—everything I’ve never been.Until now. Even if I have to fake it first.
I gather my damp, cold clothes from the floor and then round the corner in search of a hot shower. But I only make it two steps into the bedroom when my entire body freezes.
My scream pierces the air.
A tall, muscular, and very,verynaked man stands on the other side of the bed. His eyes glued to me.
“Ah!”
CHAPTER
TWO
Brooks
“It worked,” I whisper, in awe of myself. “Holy shit.”
The practically naked blond bombshell, who somehow manifested her way straight from my brain into reality, is even hotter than I envisioned while in the shower. Full, teardrop-shaped tits. A dangerous curve of her hips. Thick thighs, plump lips, and a look so innocent that it’s downright angelic.
But angels usually sing, not scream.
“Is there a reason you’re screaming?” I ask loud enough for her topossiblyhear me over her own voice.
She stumbles backward, her chest heaving. A pile of wet clothes falls from her hands and plops onto the carpet.I have so many questions.
