Wonderful.

But his grandmother just died, and he’s about to make the worst mistake of his life by legally binding himself to another person. He bought into the lie. I’m his lawyer so naturally I see this as a giant fucking risk. But I’m also his best friend and he’s happy. How could I make life harder for him? So, I agreed to help.

That was before I met Winter Whateverthefuckherlastnameis.

My worst fucking nightmare. Which makes it more fitting that Winter is a giant irritation in human form. Holier-than-thou, prudish, boring, tauntingly hot, but annoyingly outspoken. If the thought of babbling all of my most intimate thoughts to a stranger didn’t rake my nerves like a cheese grater to a live wire, I’d consider therapy when this is all over.

My phone vibrates just as I finish with my stretches. It’s Hayden, my brother. Naturally, I clear the call. Mostly because he’s a prick, but also because he’s a fucking prick. He can leave a message with Trent if he needs me.

Instead of giving two fucks about my shitbag of a brother, I stick my AirPods into my ears, dial Preston, then take off running toward the beach. I use the time to take deep breaths through my nose and out of my mouth, hoping the crisp morning air will wipe my shitty morning’s slate clean.

“Y’ello?” Preston sings through the phone.

I wince, squeezing my eyes shut. He’s too goddamn bubbly for my current mood. “Don’t answer the phone like a damn insurance salesman.”

“Fine. I’ll answer the phone like you always do…” He clears his throat. “This better be good. I’m about to bury my dick inside my secretary.”

“Hilarious. You’re quite the comedian these days. There’s no other reason on the planet you would team me up with Baby Bulldog if you weren’t playing some enormous elaborate joke on me.”

Preston’s laugh confirms he knew this would be a problem. “Winter’s cool. Just don’t piss her off.”

“Too late.”

I cross the road, running along the low-standing cement wall separating the jogging path from the mile stretch of sand between me and the ocean. Remembering how much I love the West Coast, I smile when the sound of waves crashing onto the shore in the distance pierces through my tension. I loved New York, but there’s something about the West Coast that makes me feel more relaxed. Less tense. More at home.

“Are you running or fucking?” Preston asks.

“Running. I called you while having sex one time, and you’ve never let me live it down.”

“And I never will. You’re an asshole. No one does that. Even during boring sex. Literally no one.”

“I had something to tell you, and I didn’t want to forget.”

“And I’m sure your date was impressed with your efficiency.”

“My date came four times. I remember because the deep grunting sounds she made as she did so gave me nightmares for a week. Needless to say, she never got the chance to redeem herself.”