All sorts of dirty things I want her to tell me flit through my head, but they’re far too X-rated for a documentary conversation. “Animals,” I reply instead, naming one of my favorite kinds of documentaries.

  She laughs with sheer delight, it seems. “Who doesn’t like animal documentaries?”

  “People with no soul.” I shudder.

  “And, for the record, my favorite kind of documentary—aside from the animal features—are the really twisty news-style ones.”

  And this seems like the best beginning in the history of meeting women ever because, “Me too,” I say. “Have you seen F Boys And Girls?” I ask, referencing a recent Webflix special about a group of reality show stars who conned a long line of networks to get on their shows.

  “Yes!” she says, her eyes widening. “It was guilty but addictive viewing.”

  I lean closer, catch a drift of her honeysuckle scent. “I couldn’t agree more,” I say, only my voice comes out a little rough, a little gravelly, and I don’t even care if Drew hears and gives me shit about it later because I’m having too much goddamn fun.

  “No clowns and the very specific twisty news documentaries,” Cara says, tilting her head toward me as we head toward our seats. “Sounds like we’re a match made in movie heaven.”

  And she doesn’t need to tell me twice.

  The four of us sit, with Cara next to me, chatting about some of our other favorite documentaries as the trailers roll on the screen. Then the lights dim, and the movie begins.

  I was giving Drew a hard time about the flick. Yes, he’s the hardcore movie fan, but truly it’s not bad, especially when the hero realizes he’s been into the heroine all along.

  I just met Cara, so it doesn’t feel like a mirror into my life, but what does match my emotions is the hero’s decision to go for it.

  That’s how I feel.

  Normally I don’t dive into romance or dates. I’m cautious. I research, like I do with investments.

  But sometimes you just feel chemistry. Sometimes you have so much in common with someone that it’s worth taking a chance on them, even if it means risking heartbreak on the other side.

  So after the movie ends and we’re all on Ocean Avenue, I say, “Want to grab a beer? Shave ice? Smoothie?”

  The question is for everyone, since I don’t want to be rude, but truly, I hope Cara’s game.

  She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling like she’s just as excited as I am to keep up this unexpectedly fantastic impromptu date. “Definitely.”

  But Brooke yawns, and my chest tightens.

  “It’s past your bedtime,” Cara jumps in, teasing. “It’s already nine.”

  “Yes, someone has been working early and late,” Brooke says, with another yawn. “But I don’t mind if you want to stay.”

  “I’ll drive you home,” Cara says, and my heart takes a little don’t go nosedive even though I like that she’s taking care of her sister.

  “I’ll drive you, Brooke,” my buddy steps in to save the day, and I should never have played with his text messages that time because the man is clearly a saint.

  As Cara and Brooke say goodbye, Drew claps me on the back. “Have fun, buddy. And don’t forget to tell her I win the prank wars.”

  “Yeah, that’ll be our topic of conversation for sure,” I reply, because I just can’t help needling him one last time.

  As Brooke and Drew walk toward his car, I gesture toward the smoothie store on the corner, its bright lights spilling out onto the sidewalk. “Smoothies are calling our names.”

  “Is it the berries calling to you? Do you prefer banana? Pineapple?” she asks as we walk.

  “All of the above,” I reply. “I’m smoothie-omnivorous.”

  She clasps a hand dramatically to her chest. “I’m a mango or bust gal.” She faux shudders. “And here I thought we had everything in common.”

  “Ah, but it’s good to be different in some ways,” I reply, laughing at her antics. “Like work, for example. I can’t imagine you’re a financial advisor too?”

  “No,” she replies as we stop in front of the store. “I’m studying to be a special ed teacher.”

  “Wow,” I reply, impressed. “What made you choose that?”

  She shrugs, her eyes turning serious for a beat. “I had great teachers myself and I always wanted to teach. It was as simple as that.”

  “You’re pretty amazing. You know that, right?” I ask, a little gentle, a lot intrigued.

  She looks up at me. Tension crackles in the air between us. My eyes are drawn to her lips, those rosebuds tempting me, taunting me. She darts her tongue out, leaves them glistening, and I ache to do the same.

  But she suddenly looks down, turns back to the store. “Want to order?” she asks, and the moment evaporates as we head to the counter and order our drinks.

  A few minutes later, we’re back on the street, the beach to our left, the city to our right. The scent of the ocean fills my lungs as she asks me about my job, and I tell her about the investments I make and how I research, research, research to ensure I’m prepared for whatever scenario may arise in the rapidly fluctuating market.

  “That’s another thing we have in common. This right here?” Cara taps her purse as we walk past a group of people singing Drew’s team’s song. “I’ve got Band-Aids. Tissues. Ibuprofen. I like to be prepared too.”

  I grin and gesture to the sandy shores beside us. “And what about the beach? Do you happen to like moonlit walks along the beach as well?”

  “What a coincidence. I do.” She laughs and her hand glances over my arm, and goddamn, one simple touch shouldn’t affect me so much, but it does.

  We walk past couples holding hands, couples with their arms around each other, couples, couples, couples, and it seems only too natural to say, “Do you know what else I like, Cara?”

  She stops walking, glances up at me from under her impossibly long lashes. “Tell me.”

  “You,” I say simply.

  Pink colors her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. “Looks like that’s another thing we have in common then,” she replies on a whisper, and fuck it. I know I should spend more time getting to know her, doing my research, but maybe that’s where I’ve gone wrong in the past. Maybe this—acting on a newfound crush—is the way that’s right.

  She licks her lower lip, and I don’t miss the moment this time. I cup her jaw, my hand gliding over her soft skin, and lean in to place a gentle kiss on her lips. Her hands wrap around my waist as she sort of sighs into my mouth, like this moment is just too perfect, too much.

  I linger, not wanting the kiss to end. She tastes like mangos and the magic of this whirlwind movie-turned-date, and she parts her lips, inviting me in for more, more, more, and I greedily accept.

  When we finally pull apart, her chest rises and falls against mine, and my cock is more than ready to take things back to her place, my place, any goddamn place where we can be alone. Turns out instant crushes are my new favorite thing. Nothing could kill this buzz.

  “I have to go,” Cara says, and places one hand on my chest. “Home. Alone.”

  Well, okay then.

  Maybe that could kill the buzz a little.

  “Of course,” I reply, because I’m not an asshole. If the lady wants to leave, she can leave. But… “I’d like to see you again. Why don’t you come over for a documentary-and-dinner date tomorrow night?”

  Her eyes blink to the waves crashing down on the beach, then flick back to meet mine, an ocean of uncertainty in her gaze. “I’m sorry, Patrick. This is happening really fast for me. I had a bad experience with an ex and I just…”

  My heart plummets to the bottom of the boardwalk. I step back. “I get it. Don’t worry.”

  “No.” She shakes her head, grabs my hand. “I do want this. But we’d need to take things slowly. I’ve only known you a few hours and already I feel like this could be something between us—but I don’t want to risk getting hurt again.”

  Phew. So she does want more—and more with me.

  And for moments like we’ve shared tonight, I’m willing to do whatever it takes.

  I tuck a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, my hand lingering there. “We can go slow. Turtle slow.”

  She smiles up at me, but it’s not as brilliant as it was before, as if the memory of her ex has somehow dulled the spark between us. “Thank you.”

  “No. Thank you,” I say, “for taking a chance on me.”

  And as we exchange numbers, I know two things for certain.

  One: I’m all about instant crushes now. This is the best night I’ve had in a very long time.

  And two: even though she’s agreed to a date, this somehow feels like a breakup.

  Chapter Two

  Cara

  There’s a fine line between too much and just enough.

  Take frosting, for example. Too much and it overwhelms the cake, smooshing all over your face as you try to eat. The balance is wrong. It’s no longer fun.

  That’s how I view dating. Too much and it can feel less like a recipe for romance, more like an over-frosted cupcake.

  It’s difficult, messy, and not fun at all.

  “But you really like the guy,” Taylor says as I sit at the bar, where I’ve arrived five minutes early for my next date with Patrick. She places a napkin with a glass of water on it in front of me, ever the polished bar professional. “Did you want to order a drink now or wait till he’s here?”

  “I’ll wait, thanks,” I reply. “And I know. I do like him. We had this chemistry that was pure magic. And that kiss…” I sigh into my water and take a long sip. That kiss was one week ago, but it’s been replaying in my mind under the heading of Most Romantic Kiss Ever since.

  “So what’s the problem then?” she asks, grabbing a glass from the dishwasher and polishing it.

  “I just…” I shrug. “I guess I’m scared. When I started college, I dated this guy I met on campus. And he seemed perfect on paper—like we had everything in common.” I shudder at the memory. “Turns out that was because he’d researched my likes and dislikes. He turned himself into this mirror of me, and when I started to pull away, he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  “Oh, Cara.” Tay places a hand over mine. She’s a newer friend in my circle, but has rapidly proved to be a good one. “That must have been scary.”

  “It was. He’d show up unannounced, text me all the time—he even followed me places a few times and tried to laugh it off, like it was just a big coincidence.” I shudder at the memory. “That’s all in the past now, but I guess it’s made it harder for me to take someone like Patrick at face value.”

  “That makes sense, sweetie.” Taylor places the glass on the shelf and grabs another, running the cloth over it with practiced efficiency. “But not every man will be like your ex.”

  “I know,” I reply, sitting up a little straighter. “Which is why I’m doing this. We’re taking things slow, and I’m taking a chance.”

  And when Patrick walks into the bar, I’m so very glad I am.

  At the movies, he wore jeans, but this evening he’s come straight from work. I didn’t know I was the kind of woman who cared what a man wore, but now that I’ve seen him in this tailored navy-blue suit, I’m rapidly becoming all about the three-piece, thankyouverymuch.

  His dark eyes search the room, and when they land on me I feel it—that zing that thrilled through me when we laughed and joked on the beach.

  He walks closer, a charming smile on his face, and when he kisses me on the cheek, it sends tingles to my toes.

  “It’s good to see you again,” he says, pulling back and standing close to me, one arm resting on the bar.

  Chemistry sizzles in the air between us. I place my hand over his. “It really is,” I say, and I’ve never meant those words so much.

  Conversation flows between us and soon, one drink turns into two turns into coffee and cake—but I call it a night before I get too swept up in this man who seems to be okay with taking it slow for me.

  One week later, we go mini golfing at a cute retro course. When I score my first ever hole in one, he lifts me up in the air, twirls me around, and whoops like he’s never seen anyone whack a golf ball before.

  On our next date, we go to a terrarium lab. As we layer rocks and ferns into little glass jars, creating our very own mini greenhouses, it feels a little like we’re building something else. Something bigger.

  And more than a month after we first met, I can’t hold back any longer. He’s taken it slow for me. He’s given me the space and time I needed—but I can’t keep worrying forever. He’s not too good to be true—he is true.

  And it seems like he’s mine.

  I just have to take a chance on love.

  Chapter Three

  Patrick

  One year later

  “You’ve been a very naughty boy, Patrick.”

  I pause in adjusting my tie in the en suite mirror and smile. That voice coming from the bedroom can only mean one of two things.

  Either Cara has found the gift I left out for her or she’s about to make all my dirty student/teacher fantasies come true.

  I stroll into the bedroom, and I shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t still be affected by her like this, but fuck it.

  I just am.

  She stands by the bed in simple black lace lingerie, her gorgeous body bared for me to see. It doesn’t matter how many times I explore it with my hands, my lips, my tongue…I always want more.

  Like now.

  Like right motherfucking now.

  I step closer and slide my hands around her waist, her smooth skin so soft, then I lean down and kiss that rosebud mouth. She sighs into the kiss, melts into my body, and I pull her closer, closer still until there’s no space between us, no gap that separates me from her—there’s just us.

  Her tongue darts into my mouth. I meet it stroke for stroke, turning this kiss from a simple oh hi there into a hot and heady dream. We kiss like two people hungry for more, hungry for each other.

  The softness of her hair is like a dream as I curl it around my hand, tug it slightly, and then—

  Oh, shit.

  I stop, pull away.

  “What’s wrong?” Cara asks, two adorable little lines furrowing between her brows.

  “Did I ruin your wedding hair?” I ask, checking over her shoulder to see if I’ve undone all the hairstylist’s good work. “Nope. Still looks amazing. Close one.” I wipe a bead of imaginary sweat from my brow, but I take a step back.

  It’s one thing to play a prank on your best bud every now and then.

  It’s another entirely to fuck with his wedding day, and I won’t delay Brooke’s walk down the aisle because I’ve ruined her maid of honor’s hairstyle.

  “Thank you for protecting me,” Cara says, grinning as she takes the silky blue dress from the bed and slips it on. It effortlessly curves around her body, cinching in at the waist and draping in all the right places, and I let loose a low whistle.

  “Wow,” I mutter. “You’re such a knockout.”

  “Wait till you see me in a wedding dress,” Cara teases, flashing me the diamond that sparkles on her ring finger, and I grin.

  “About that…” I gesture to the gift-wrapped box on the bedside table. “I believe you were about to reprimand me for misbehaving?”

  She grins. “I was. You didn’t have to get me a gift.”

  “That’s the beauty of gifts.” I shrug. “They’re not a have to. They’re a want to.”

  She lifts the lid on the blue box and lets loose a small gasp. “Patrick,” she breathes, then lifts the necklace so it dangles in the light. It’s a slight silver chain with a small charm on it—the symbol for infinity.

  “I know it’s a little corny, but…” I shrug, take the necklace from her hands, and do the clasp up at her nape. “You’re my forever, Cara. And I wanted to remind you of that.”

  “Thank you,” she says, spinning in my arms to kiss me once again, this time a little softer, a little more chaste, but no less loaded with meaning. “I can’t wait to marry you and be your wife.”

  “Thirty days can’t come fast enough,” I agree, holding her close.

  And as we finish getting ready to watch two of the most important people in our lives getting married, I’ve never felt happier.

  I might be afraid of clowns.

  I might be hesitant to take major risks.

  But there’s one thing I’m one hundred percent confident in, and it’s the woman holding hands with me in our hotel suite.

  Cara is, and always will be, worth every risk.

  Be sure to sign up for my mailing list to be the first to know when swoony, sexy new romances are available or on sale!

  ALSO BY LAUREN BLAKELY

  FULL PACKAGE, the #1 New York Times Bestselling romantic comedy!

  BIG ROCK, the hit New York Times Bestselling standalone romantic comedy!

  THE SEXY ONE, a New York Times Bestselling standalone romance!

  THE KNOCKED UP PLAN, a multi-week USA Today and Amazon Charts Bestselling standalone romance!

  MOST VALUABLE PLAYBOY, a sexy multi-week USA Today Bestselling sports romance! And its companion sports romance, MOST LIKELY TO SCORE!

  WANDERLUST, a USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance!

  COME AS YOU ARE, a Wall Street Journal and multi-week USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance!

  PART-TIME LOVER, a multi-week USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance!

  UNBREAK MY HEART, an emotional second chance USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance!

  BEST LAID PLANS, a sexy friends-to-lovers USA Today Bestselling romance!

  The Heartbreakers! The USA Today and WSJ Bestselling rock star series of standalone!

  P.S. IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU, a sweeping, second chance romance!

  MY ONE WEEK HUSBAND, a sexy standalone romance!

  CONTACT

  I love hearing from readers! You can find me on Twitter at LaurenBlakely3, Instagram at LaurenBlakelyBooks, Facebook at LaurenBlakelyBooks, or online at LaurenBlakely.com. You can also email me at laurenblakelybooks@gmail.com