BooksBarbecue
Back First Comes Love
Chapters (92)
  1. First
  2. Love Connection
  3. Zero
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. One Month Later
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Six Months Later
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-one
  27. Twenty-two
  28. Twenty-three
  29. Twenty-four
  30. Six Months Later
  31. Twenty-five
  32. Twenty-six
  33. Twenty-seven
  34. Twenty-eight
  35. Twenty-nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-one
  38. Thirty-two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. I Have Never
  41. One
  42. Two
  43. Three
  44. Four
  45. Five
  46. Six
  47. Seven
  48. Eight
  49. Nine
  50. Ten
  51. Eleven
  52. Twelve
  53. Thirteen
  54. Fourteen
  55. Fifteen
  56. Sixteen
  57. Seventeen
  58. Eighteen
  59. Nineteen
  60. Twenty
  61. Twenty-one
  62. Twenty-two
  63. A Christmas Date
  64. One
  65. Two
  66. Three
  67. Four
  68. Five
  69. Six
  70. Seven
  71. Eight
  72. Nine
  73. Ten
  74. Eleven
  75. Twelve
  76. Thirteen
  77. Fourteen
  78. Fifteen
  79. Sixteen
  80. Seventeen
  81. Eighteen
  82. Nineteen
  83. Twenty
  84. Twenty-one
  85. Twenty-two
  86. Note from the Author
  87. Sneak Peek – To the Stars and Back
  88. Two
  89. Three
  90. Four
  91. Also by Camilla Isley
  92. About the Author

I throw away the covers, get up, and swap PJs for a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. In front of the wardrobe mirror, I try to flatten my hair, preventing it from sticking out in all directions. I so wish it was still long enough to pull up in a bun. I miss buns.

Bun-less and still crazy-haired, I venture into the hall and almost collide with a semi-naked Diego. He’s wearing only a towel around his hips, presenting me with the kind of naked chest usually reserved for steamy romance book covers. I try not to look, but my gaze gets drawn to the inviting V of muscle disappearing just below the towel, and I involuntarily bite my lower lip. I mentally slap myself, and my eyes snap back up to his face. His hair, fresh from the blow dry, is wilder than mine and gives him a tousled look that’s hard to resist.

“Hi,” I say.

“Morning.”

“You been up long?”

“A couple of hours…”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I know you wanted an early start, but it didn’t feel right to barge into your room to wake you, so I worked out a little instead.”

A glorious image of him doing pushups and crunches bare chested is now permanently ingrained in my brain. And of course he’d be the kind of person who wakes up early on a Saturday to work out. A body like that just doesn’t sculpt itself. I think of my soft belly and take back everything I just thought. Early risers are horrible people whose mission in life is to make us late sleepers feel guilty about our love for cushy pillows and snuggles under the comforter.

“No, you’re right,” I say. “I should’ve set an alarm… What do you say we go out for breakfast?” I stare at my watch. “It’s too late to go shopping now, anyway. We can eat something and lay down the basis of our fake relationship instead.”

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

“Great, just give me time for a quick shower. Meet here in thirty?”

He winks at me. “All right, boss.”

My stomach responds with a weird little flip. Maybe it wasn’t the wink. Right, I’m probably just hungry.

We switch ends in the narrow hall, and I do my best to stick to the wall and not give in to the temptation to brush against all that bared muscle. Obstacle surpassed, I dive into the bathroom and hop into the shower.