AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I have a long list of things to do today.
One of which is to ensure that both my house and Rita’s are ready for the storm to hit tonight. The other is to keep busy and ignore the woman asleep in my guest room until she’s safely tucked away at Scallywag’s upstairs apartment with Rita.
Brynn
Last night could easily go down as the most humiliating night of my life.
Between showing up on some strange man’s door, accusing him of squatting in a home he owns, and then screaming bloody murder loud enough that he breaks through his bathroom door in an attempt to rescue a woman who's afraid of the dark, I’m regretting not taking my chances out on the porch last night.
My eyes clamp down at the mortification of it all as I lay in bed this morning.
I’d just as soon march into the ocean until it swallows me whole, then head down the hall and face him today.
But what other option do I have?
All night long, I lay awake listening to the sounds of palm tree fronds thrashing around in the gale-force winds while loose pieces of debris smacked against the sides of the house. The memory of listening to the howling of the wind on that fateful day in Oklahoma while hunkered down in the belly of the three-story brick dorm building on campus came swirling back to torment me.
The sounds of the buildings around us getting ripped apart with no way for us to escape our apartment basement.
Toss in the crushing blow to my ego, watching Seven rush out of the bathroom as fast as he could to get away from me, and my first night in paradise could be considered an epic fail.
The one thing I was grateful for last night is that Seven is a loud sleeper. I may have slept alone last night without the comfort of Daniel lying next to me, but at least the sounds of Seven’s heavy breathing reminded me that I wasn’t alone.
I have no motivation to write today since I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, though I know that my deadline won’t wait for the weather to clear up. Even now, I can still hear the storm winds raging outside my boarded-up window. Oddly enough, the thick sheet of plywood protecting anything from breaking through my window last night brought me more comfort than I would have imagined. I felt safer than I would have without it.
I glance over at the closed guest bedroom door and wonder if Seven is up yet. With the windows boarded up and the alarm clock in this room still not illuminated from the loss of power last night, the only thing I have to go on is my cell phone’s time which says it's a little after seven am.
Is he dreading seeing me as much as I am to see him?
Probably not.
I doubt he’s lost much sleep over the five-foot-four woman sleeping in his guest bedroom who’s afraid of the dark.
He’s a fearless NHL goalie who gets in fistfights with other large and angry players out on the ice as part of his occupation. And the man is definitely built for it.
I’ve never seen a human in that great of shape up close before. Let alone felt his hard chest against my bare body when he caught me from slipping on the wet floor.
All six-plus feet of muscle, brute strength, and sex appeal were hard to miss the moment he opened the front door in the dim lighting of the porch light. I’m starting to better understand women’s fascination with professional athletes, though I won’t be sporting a Wrenley jersey anytime soon.
The funny thing is, I’ve written about these types of men in my books.
My regency novels are chock-full of sturdy-built men with bodies to salivate over and my new contemporary books won't be any different.
I’ve written the intricate details of their imaginary six-pack abs and deep V cut of their pelvis. I create fantasies about the way they take the main female character passionately and protectively in the bedroom… and even outside of it.
I’ve written about the grumpy “misunderstood” demeanor of the hunky protagonist who shields his broken heart from the world, finally willing to shed his armor for the one woman he can’t live without.
This is the first time I’ve actually been faced with the real-life situation of falling at the mercy of a grumpy adonis, and admittedly, it’s not as sexy as the books portray these characters to be.
The idea that Seven is anything like the heartbroken male lead in my books is laughable. He’s more likely breaking hearts than needing to mend his own with the number of women throwing themselves at him.
He’s adored by the city of Seattle as the starting goalie for the beloved Seattle Hawkeyes Hockey team.
If this is really what my heroines are actually faced with in my books, I might need to rethink my meet-cutes going forward. How could they possibly fall for a guy like this?
Male athletes are well known for their promiscuity, and I can’t imagine Seven is any different.
Tack on his permanent scowl, and I don’t see how a single one of my female characters would ever fall for his nonsense.
