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normal. Well, as normal as a broke, divorced, thirty-four-year-old proofreader who hailed from a long and distinguished line of female…
Her hair was dark brown. Her eyes were the same, just a little too big for her face. Heavy lids made her look bored even when she wasn’t.
But divorced TV-news-writer pariahs couldn’t be choosers.
Griffin Gentry was Channel 50’s most popular morning news anchor.
“You’re so weird.” Riley laughed. “You could be too if you just gave yourself the permission.”
Tall. Broad shoulders, muscled chest. Bronze skin. Short dark hair that curled just a little on top. Assessing eyes under thick brows, full lips bookended by matching deep dimples barely disguised under rebel razor stubble.
And those eyes. Blue-green like the ocean on a sunny day. They sucked her in.
Just like the rest of his life. Low maintenance. Low responsibility. Easy.
He generally did the right thing. He just didn’t like having someone else dictate what the right thing was.
You’re a young, healthy man, Nicholas. Complications are the best part of life. I’m starting to get concerned about you.”
Something obviously had made her even less trusting than the last time their paths had crossed.
“I’m Nick Santiago. I’m a devilishly handsome private investigator, and I’m looking for Dickie. Now hang on for a second.”
“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he said.
“Behind every good girl facade is the urge to do something bad.”
We have disaster written all over us.” “Disasters can be a lot of fun,” he pointed out.
“Do you have a reason to believe he’s in trouble?” he pressed.
They'd make the perfect couple. her using her skills to help.PI
He didn’t want to feel responsible for someone again.
“Well, if it isn’t Nick ‘the Forehead’ Santiago,”
“Drop the rebel-without-a-clue act, Santiago.” “As soon as you drop the asshole routine.” “Loose fucking cannon,” Weber shot back. “Smug shit,” Nick growled.
“Save the charm, Detective Dick. She’s taken,”
don’t come near my woman again.”
“Don’t mind me. I’ll just stir this boneless bone broth with the knife in my back,”
“Life is an adventure to be lived, not a series of repetitive days to survive.”
“Life’s short. Why waste it doing things you don’t want to do?” The life philosophy of Nick Santiago, ladies and gentlemen.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed and turned on.”
“And if you’re a good girl, I’ll buy you dinner and snacks.”
“I am training her for her wedding night.”
“You are a very lucky man. She is an incredible woman,” Gabe said with a wistful quality that Nick really didn’t like.
He should have done push-ups in the parking lot first.
“Your trainer?” He was not a fan of the idea of Gabe the Gargantuan getting Riley all sweaty and then helping her stretch.
“Spirit guides are not among the living,” Gabe agreed. “So what I hear you saying is you’re either dead or not human,” Nick said with a straight face.
can only hope that Riley’s need for my services will outlast your need for hers,” he retorted.
“Listen, Andre the Giant, if you don’t stop flirting with my fiancée, I’m going to find a step stool, climb it, and punch that smile off your face.”
“She’s fine, Optimus Prime,” Nick said without breaking eye contact with her.
“You make me dizzy,” she breathed.
“Riley, honey, you can’t tell a guy something like that and expect him not to want to hear it again,” he warned.
“Baby, the way you kiss, there’s a bad girl inside you dying to get out and have some fun.”
Love, Gabe
“Be nice. He’s the first person to ever be impressed with me. I’m not letting you be mean to him.” “Thorn, he is definitely not the first, and he won’t be the last.”
He was going to get a real table, he decided. And maybe some plants. He could take care of plants.
“I would go anywhere you asked me to,” he said proudly.
“Riley, honey, I get what you were trying to do, and I appreciate it. But you’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to let you prance around in that third-degree-felony-waiting-to-happen outfit.” “Let me?”
“You are really sending some mixed messages, dude,” she told him. “I am aware.” He nipped at the spot where her neck met her shoulder.
“Riley’s your Christmas morning.”
“Go easy on the people food,” Nick warned her. “We’re just starting to get his farts under control.”
“You sent me in there, you gigantic moron. Don’t take the fact that you’re developing real feelings for your fake fiancée out on me.”
“Oh, I think you remember,” Nick said, flashing him a hard grin.
“Just giving him a pep talk,” he told her.
He asked Dickie for it that day, and Dickie said, ‘Fuck off, cocksucker.’”
