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

by Ashley Herring Blake

“Well?” Iris asked. “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.”

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.

Stevie swiped a hand through her hair. “Okay, well, narcissistic heroes notwithstanding, we should walk.” “Walk.” “Hand in hand.” “Lazily, while we search for shells to leave on each other’s pillows?” Stevie held out her hand. “Now you’re getting it.”

There, set right in the middle of her pillow, was a perfectly pink sea scallop shell.

“You happened,” she said before crushing her mouth to Iris’s.

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