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Chapters (39)
  1. Dedication
  2. About the Book
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. Epilogue
  33. Three Years Later
  34. A Note from the Authors
  35. Acknowledgments
  36. About the Author
  37. CoraLee June
  38. About the Author
  39. Carrie Gray

I should have connected the dots. I should have known to run like hell. But I’m a stupid bitch.

I waltzed through the door like I was a fucking nursing major and not a publicist. And what I saw was the most intricate threesome I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Wrinkles on wrinkles on wrinkles. Cassandra wore leopard print lingerie and was currently being spit roasted by one man with hair growing out of his oversized ears and another man with dark skin and gray hair. Her mouth was full, so she couldn’t tell me to get out. But I saw the fire in her eyes.

The two men bludgeoning the flaps started shouting.

“Get outta here!” the man with large ears grumbled. He sounded seriously out of breath.

“I’m not wasting the Viagra, John. You know they ration this shit out,” the other said to his friend.

I threw my hands up to block the view. “I’m so sorry,” I shouted while walking backward.

“Finally!” the man with large ears shouted.

The back of my foot hit a dip in the carpet, and I started falling backward. Two strong hands wrapped around me, pulling me to a hard chest to break my fall. I opened my eyes and let out a breathless thank-you when I saw Oakley holding me up.

He smiled as Brooke slammed the door to Cassandra’s room shut. “Well, Solver,” he grumbled, hovering his lips over my ears to whisper, “I think our first community service is going well, hmm?”

10

I was stress cleaning. Tomorrow, the article about our time at the nursing home was scheduled to be published, and I couldn’t sleep; instead, I was scrubbing the bathtub at eleven o’clock at night. I couldn’t get the image of Cassandra in gland-to-gland combat with the cast of Grumpy Old Men out of my head. Just thinking about it made me both cringe with embarrassment and want to bleach my eyes.

I took it out on my bathtub instead. I’m pretty sure I scrubbed until the enamel was coming off. Brooke wouldn’t let me read what she was submitting, and not having control of the situation was driving me crazier than Britney Spears circa 2007. The “meeting” with Cassandra was definitely a shit show, but I think we managed to recover the rest of our time there.

Apparently, nobody told Cassandra we were coming, which explained why we walked in on her, well, cumming. She reached out that night to apologize and offered to reschedule, but I didn’t think that I could ever look her in the eye again. I politely told her I would check our schedules and get back to her.