Iris Kelly Doesn't Date (Bright Falls, #3)

by Ashley Herring Blake

“Delilah Green didn’t care about anyone and consistently forgot the names of the women she slept with. Until she met Claire Sutherland.” I like it. Catchy

She cleared her throat. Fiddled with her fringe. She took a deep, calming breath. She took one step toward the redhead and froze. Because the redhead was already walking across the room, her eyes fixed on Stevie.

She also felt terrified. Because Iris was way out of her league.

“So,” she said finally, “we’re dating.” Stevie said nothing. “Like, fake dating. In a rom-com,” Iris said.

And it didn’t help the situation that Iris looked . . . Well, she looked fucking radiant.

“Such a romantic gesture, sweetie pie, thank you.”

HAHAHAHA sweetie pie

“Muffin,” she said, then made a kissy face. Stevie snorted back a laugh.

“Are you coming in with me, my little rosebud?” Stevie cracked up at the name, which again helped her relax. “I guess I am, mon petit chou.” Iris laughed. “French, already? I’m flattered.” “It means my little cabbage. I’m not sure how flattered you should really be.” “Vegetable talk. That’s hot.”

“Followed by evidence that I am the worst seductress in the Pacific Northwest,” Stevie said.

“It’s just . . . do you ever feel like the you you want to be isn’t the person anyone else wants?”

She simply was, with another disaster by her side—because Stevie was one hundred percent an adorable disaster—and it felt like that first gulp of cold water after a long hike.

my precious little beetle,

God, the woman practically emanated sex. Stevie was pretty sure the only thing she ever emanated were stress hormones.

“It’s easy with you,” Stevie’s expression going serious and soft. She leaned in and kissed Iris gently, arms wrapping around her waist. “It’s so easy with you.”

“Show me what?” she asked one more time. “Stevie.” Stevie pressed her forehead to Iris’s. “That you’re worth loving.”

“I’m just a girl standing in front of another girl, asking her to fuck her senseless.”

“Purple bearded irises,” Iris said, picking up a jar and pressing her face into the flowers. “How did you know these are my favorite?” Stevie shrugged. “Lucky guess? They’re all over your planners. Also, the name. I figured you’d love the name.”

everything we’ve done over the last couple of weeks. It’s too much, Stevie.” Stevie swallowed but shook her head. “Nothing is too much for you.”

“You’re definitely a switch—you know that, right? The top energy coming off of you right now is about to make me come right here.”

“It’s amazing, Stevie. You’re amazing. You know that, right?” She said it so quietly—almost sadly—that Stevie frowned. “I think I—” “No,” Iris said, grabbing Stevie’s hand. “You’re incredible, full stop.”

Iris Kelly was crying in Stevie’s shower.

But that was the tricky thing about love—it was selfless and also needy; generous, but greedy and desperate too.

“Come with me, Iris. To New York. Come with me. Live with me. I love you, okay? I am wildly, stupidly in love with you. Yes, I messed up. Yes, I chose me, but I choose you too. That’s what love is, right? I want both, and I know you do too. We can figure this out, we can. Just say yes.”

Stevie was who Iris wanted. Stevie was Iris’s HEA.

No, Iris wasn’t broken. Iris Kelly was in love.

Loving her. Because Iris Kelly was worth loving. And she always had been. She turned around, smiled at them. “I need to go to New York.”

Yes, Stevie Scott would be just fine without Iris Kelly. But she wouldn’t be this.

You were so brave for me, and I want to do the same. I want to be brave for you.”

“I spent a lot of time,” Iris went on, “convincing myself I wasn’t built to last, wasn’t built for romance, for love. But maybe . . .” Tears bloomed into her eyes. “Maybe I was just built for you.”

“If you tell me these beautiful birds on your skin represent you, Claire, and Ruby,” Iris said, “I’m going to faint right here. Might literally die.”