BooksBarbecue
Back Someone Had to Do It
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Authors
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  37. THE STORY BEHIND SOMEONE HAD TO DO IT
  38. SOMEONE HAD TO DO IT: THE PLAYLIST
  39. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

“Hey, be careful,” I say as I adjust the train, still smiling. “We have to return this dress tomorrow morning.”

“My bad.”

His hand finds the back of my head and he kisses me hard. I can taste the champagne on his tongue. It’s sweet, intoxicating. I want him. I want him now. All of him. I rock into his body, pressing closer, harder.

His breath hitches and he drops his voice. “B, if we don’t stop...”

I can feel the heat of him against my stomach. I bite my lip and look around. “Maybe there’s a quiet room upstairs.”

I love how cliché this sounds, and it’s exactly why I want to do it. I want to be a cliché tonight.

Nate’s eyebrows lift, just a bit. A question.

I smile as my eyes slide down to his chest, then back up. “We have to make up for lost time, right?”

“Hell yeah.”

He laces his fingers into mine and drags me behind him.

We’re heading for the stairs when a guy in a blue suit grabs Nate by the arm, pulling him to a full stop. He smiles warmly at Nate as if he’s meeting a hero. The man can barely hold back his excitement.

“You’re Reggie Robinson’s son, aren’t you? My dad’s a huge fan. He’s out by the pool.”

“I am, but I’m...” Nate glances at me, his eyes asking for permission. He doesn’t need to ask, but he always does anyway.

I give him a small nod. “It’s fine. Go ahead. I’ll just look around.”

“I’ll come find you.”

The guy pulls him away, and I watch them for a while. Talking. Laughing. Then I turn for the stairs.

My dress sways as I walk down the long, marble-floored hallway, careful not to make too much noise. The second level is as stunning as the rest of the house, and I haven’t even left the hall yet. Once you pass the domed, oak-paneled library and sitting room—complete with a fully stocked wine fridge, because naturally—you reach a guest bathroom, the first of many I’m sure, which is the size of some Manhattan apartments. Inside it’s what I can pretty much only describe as perfection. As in, a freestanding clawfoot tub, multiple skylights, marble countertops that must be imported and a ton of Diptyque candles and stylized greenery. The whole place seems ripped straight from the pages of Architectural Digest, each room underscored with unique, museum-quality artwork, like the countless full-size Helmut Newtons of naked women posing wide-legged and tugging on cigarettes.