I fan my face as we walk off the train then stroll through the terminal. “That might be too much.”

  “I’ll do it when you’re not home, then.”

  Home.

  I’m home when I’m with him. And home is where we’ll live together.

  I’m moving in with him in a few weeks. His place is bigger, which translates into more room for colorful throws and pillows. Plus, his state-of-the-art kitchen is orgasm-inducing to this chocolatier who loves to experiment with recipes late at night.

  Another benefit? His building is dog-friendly, so I’ve started fostering small pups with a local rescue. So far, we’ve offered a temporary home to Edward, Ferdinand, and a crazy chihuahua named Snapdragon, and they’ve already found their fur-ever homes too.

  I love being home with Leo, but we also try to escape from the city as much as we can, when we’re not fostering pups.

  Now, we make our way through the station, drinking in the familiar sights from the scavenger hunt, like the constellations above us. “It’s kind of funny. Being in this train station that second day of the hunt made me realize it was time to go for it with you. All those clues from the past helped me see I wanted a chance with you.”

  He gazes upward at the stars and planets. “I’d like to thank the Academy and Grand Central Terminal. Also, Kingsley for organizing the scavenger hunt. And the chocolate fountain that made Lulu practically take off her clothes way back when. Also, thank you, llama panties.”

  I laugh and dot a kiss to his forehead.

  That afternoon, we head to Bryant Park for a quick get-together to celebrate the scavenger hunt and give out trophies, since we never really had a proper finale last month. We stroll in front of the New York Public Library on Library Way—the sidewalk lined with plaques inscribed with quotes from great works of literature.

  I point to one from Willa Cather’s O Pioneers! and Leo reads it aloud: “‘There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.’”

  I clasp Leo’s hand more tightly. “I love that. This would be a good riddle for a hunt. You can say something along the lines of ‘What’s familiar, but also new every time you open it? You’ll find me looking down, among so many others, each one hinting at a different story.’ And the answer would be Library Way.”

  “Have I told you how sexy and smart you are?”

  “Why, yes, shower me with compliments. They’ll get you everywhere.”

  He squeezes my ass and growls in my ear. “Exactly where I want to be.”

  Inside the park, we spot Ginny and Noah holding hands. As we walk past them, they’re debating whether cones are better than cups.

  “See, when you get ice cream in a cone, there’s absolutely no waste. You don’t have to throw a thing out,” he says.

  “Right, but when you get it in a cup, it’s pure. It’s just ice cream. You don’t have a cone to sully the taste.”

  “How on earth does a cone sully the taste? It makes it even better.”

  “Maybe I want my ice cream all to itself, just like I want my man.”

  He sidles up against her. “You can definitely have me all to yourself. Anytime. Anywhere.”

  I look at them, then at Leo, whispering, “True love born from true arguers. That’s definitely the two of them.”

  I survey the scene, cataloging the others from the hunt—minus RaeLynn, since I presume she’s descended to her secret lair to plot more nefarious misdeeds. My heart scampers away from me when I see three adorable redhead babies in a triple-wide stroller and one very happy dad pushing them toward us. George’s skin is a little more golden than it was last time, and his eyes sparkle. He traveled to the Bahamas and donated the ten thousand dollars in prize money to an organization that provides school supplies for low-income children. He’s officially all kinds of awesome.

  I wave to him and rush over, bending to dote on the babies. “They’re so cute. I’m overloading on the adorable. How do you even stand it every day?”

  “It is their cuteness indeed that gets me through. Also, a vacation helped.” He holds out his arms. “How do I look? Like the most relaxed man in the universe? Tanned, rested, and . . . well, ready for another vacation.”

  “You look like the guy who deserved a vacation and made one hell of a good use of it.”

  “Determination was the name of the game. That was all. I saw the prize, and I said, ‘I absolutely must have it, no matter what.’”

  “I’m glad you won. Every now and then, someone who deserves a prize wins a prize.”

  A few minutes later, Kingsley clears her throat to say it’s time to present the trophy to the victor, but one of George’s little girls cries before Kingsley can hand over the statue. Another baby joins the chorus. I scoop up crying baby number one, and before I know it, Leo is by my side helping with the other.

  The sight of him holding a little one in his arms is almost too much for me to bear. My ovaries huddle and plan a strategy to tackle Leo and demand attention RIGHT NOW. “Forget everything I said earlier. This is the sexiest you’ve ever been.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, and I want one of these for my own.”

  “You’re suggesting we take one of George’s babies?”

  The father of three jumps into the conversation as he tends to the third baby. “Anytime you two want to babysit, you know where to find me. In fact, how about five o’clock today? I’ll pay you double.”

  I lean in to stage-whisper. “Confession: you don’t have to pay me a dime.”

  “You mean you’ll pay me? Even better.”

  “Name the date and time, and I’m there.”

  “I knew I liked you. If you ever need a chocolate fountain, I’m your man.”

  Leo smiles as he interjects, “So you want one of those?”

  “A chocolate fountain? Yes. I do. I told you I like them.”

  “A baby, Lulu.”

  “Um, yeah. How could you tell?” The funny thing is, I’m not worried that my baby fever is going to scare him off. Leo’s not easily spooked. He’s also ridiculously good with babies.

  He nuzzles the redhead in his arms and whispers something in a sweet baby language, then he looks over at me. “Then I better get you something first.”

  A few days later, Leo tells me a book he requested on antique furniture styles has arrived, and asks if I want to join him to fetch it.

  I do, so we head to the New York Public Library and wander through the stacks, sniffing old books and playing a game to see who can find the most absurd history book. He wins when he locates a tome on poison in the court of James I.

  We leave on a mission for lunch, scamper down the steps, and wander along Library Way, reading the quotes from the plaques. He gestures to the Willa Cather one, a few feet away.

  “Hey, Lulu. What’s made of stone, contains a quote from an American author, and says something profound about stories?”

  Seriously? “Are you soft-balling me?”

  His brown eyes twinkle with mischief. “Maybe I am.”

  I swivel around and point to the ground. “It’s that plaque. That’s the answer to your supremely easy riddle.”

  He shakes his head, satisfaction spreading across his face. “No. The answer is where I’m going to ask you to make me the happiest man in the world.”

  I gasp as he drops down to one knee on the Willa Cather plaque, reaches for a royal-blue velvet box from his pocket, and flips it open. “Lulu Diamond, will you marry me?”

  My heart executes backflips. “Yes! A million times, yes.”

  I hold out my hand, and he slides a ring on my finger as tears rain from my eyes. He stands, takes me in his arms, and kisses me in front of Manhattan, in front of the whole world, with a breathlessness and hope that makes me feel like we could be on a postcard.

  A few months later, I take George up on his chocolate fountain offer, much to the consternation of my husband-to-be.

  Leo protests till he’s blue in the face.

  It’s messy. It’s gross. It’s a vat of germs.

  My response? It’s fun.

  We compromise and order one for our rehearsal dinner, instead of the wedding.

  Confession: it is messy. But it’s a blast as I pop strawberries onto skewers and dip them. Cameron willingly plays the role of fountain police, and he and Mariana make excellent sergeants, ensuring no one dips in a finger or a face.

  That’s not the only chocolate at the festivities. We also give away our new chocolate collection to all our guests. I’m thrilled with how the Rising Star collection turned out. We call it Kissed by Chocolate, and the chocolates are packaged in art deco wrappers of stylized kiss paintings, with constellations of stars printed on the inside. They also outsold Frodo’s chips last quarter, and Kissed by Chocolate tops all the Heavenly lines too.

  Seems, in our own way, that we won the team-building competition after all.

  Our wedding the next day is a simple affair. Leo’s parents are here, along with his brothers, my mother and her boyfriend, Cameron and his mystery woman, Mariana, Dean and Fitzgerald, George, his wife and the babies, Kingsley and her husband, and Ginny and Noah, who are inseparable and next in line for vows, thanks to the ring Noah gave her last month.

  Tripp’s mom is here too, and that means a lot to me.

  My mother doesn’t give me away this time. I’m my own person, with my own dreams, my own goals, and I don’t belong to anyone else. That’s why this marriage will be different than my first.

  Because Leo and I are sturdier than a three-legged stool. We’re a pair, the kind whose bonds don’t break. Sometimes life gives you a second chance at love, and if you’re lucky enough to spot it and wise enough to seize it, you better be strong enough to keep it.

  I am.

  We are.

  And we will be.

  EPILOGUE

  Leo

  A week later

  A tropical breeze blows through the open shutters. Stretching, I swing my legs off the bed.

  The morning sun of my Costa Rican honeymoon floods the suite. My wife’s not here. She left a note that she was out for a morning walk.

  I head to the bathroom, brush my teeth, run a hand through my hair, then meander to the deck to enjoy the sun and the coconut-scented air that reminds me of her.

  Then again, nearly everything reminds me of her, but the reminders no longer hurt. They don’t mock me with what I can’t have. They’re a promise of all that I’m so lucky to call my own.

  I pop in an audiobook and get lost in the modern history of this country. A few minutes later, the door snicks open, and I remove my earbuds.

  “Morning, handsome.”

  Lulu’s wild hair is even wilder here, framing her beautiful face. She waggles a white paper bag. “Rice and beans, flan, some mangoes, and I have coffee too.”

  She sets the breakfast on the table on the deck, as the sun hoists itself higher over the ocean.

  “Good morning to you too.”

  “Oh, I also found this with the breakfast.”

  She hands me a postcard of a couple kissing on the beach. Probably something she picked up at a local souvenir shop. “What’s this for?”

  “Why don’t you take a look?”

  I flip it over to find her handwriting.

  My eyes widen, and my skin prickles with excitement chased by hope. “For real?”

  Her smile touches my soul as she whispers, “For real.”

  I cup her cheeks and kiss her, then read her words aloud. They’re the best words she’s ever written to me, and that’s saying something.

  “What’s a little bit of you, a little bit of me, still all new, and arrives in a birthday suit?”

  Eager for more from these characters? Dear Sexy Ex-Boyfriend is FREE IN KU!

  Binge the entire Guys Who Got Away series FREE in KU!

  Birthday Suit: Leo & Lulu/Friends to Lovers/Best Friend’s Ex

  Dear Sexy Ex-Boyfriend: Oliver & Summer/Friends to Lovers/Fake Fiancée

  The What If Guy: Logan & Bryn/Boss/Employee

  Thanks for Last Night: Ransom & Teagan/Friends to Lovers/Player Auction

  The Dream Guy Next Door: Liam and January/Neighbors to Lovers/Single Parents

  Lucky Suit: Kristen and Cameron/Mistaken Identity

  And

  A Guy Walks Into My Bar, an MM standalone spinoff: Dean and Fitz

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you for reading Birthday Suit. While this is a romance with a happy ending, it tackles a serious topic.

  Alcoholism is a disease that affects many individuals. There are many support organizations dedicated to helping both the person suffering with this disease as well as family and friends.

  Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) –

  • 888-486-0889

  • 12 step program for alcoholics

  • https://www.aa.org/

  Drug and Alcohol Hotline for Rehab/Treatment Referral Service: 1-800-662-HELP

  Al-Anon and Alateen

  • 1-800-356-9996

  • https://al-anon.org/

  • https://al-anon.org/newcomers/teen-corner-alateen/

  • Programs for families and children of alcoholics (meetings and resources are available to help the loved ones of an alcoholic learn to cope)

  SMART Recovery

  • https://www.smartrecovery.org/

  Women for Sobriety

  • https://womenforsobriety.org/

  • 215-536-8026

  • Offers the ‘New Life Program’ helping women overcome alcohol/drug use

  Abiding thanks to Tina M. for helping compile this list.

  As always, thank you to Helen, KP, Kelley, Candi, Jen, Kim, Lauren, Lynn, Virginia, Tiffany, Karen, and others for helping shape the story. Big love to my family.

  INSTANT GRATIFICATION

  ABOUT

  I need a fake date. She needs my late-night expertise. Now, if we can just keep our hands off each other...

  As the premier best-man-for hire in all of Manhattan, I promise discretion, so when I need a plus one for a couple of "I dos," I turn to my gorgeous, clever, witty best friend's sister. She's my good friend, too, and I lust after her completely. I mean, I TRUST her completely.

  After all, just look how she's kept her lips sealed about the hot, multi-O night we spent together. Yes, just look at those sexy lips.

  In any case, we only fell off the wagon once, and it was months ago. I'm sure we can make it through these weddings without banging each other in the limo.

  Or can we?

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  Did you know this book is also available in audio and paperback on all major retailers? Go to my website for links!

  PROLOGUE

  When you’ve had to tell as many “how we got together” stories as I have, you get a fair idea of the range of things a man will do to impress a woman, from thoughtful to absurd to downright unbelievable.

  For starters, bro, did you really read Fifty Shades of Grey?

  But that’s only number one on the menu of items guys will pick and choose from in an effort to elicit flutters from a new lady.

  I know men who claim to love Pride and Prejudice. Even go so far as to say they’ve read the book. And maybe we do get that desperate to see what women see in Mr. Fucking Darcy other than an English accent. Which I have, by the way, but I still don’t understand the deal with Colin Firth any more than the next bloke.

  I’ve met fellows who swear they don’t like football of any variety—American or proper—to reassure a lady she’ll never be a widow to the footie. Or they’ll turn off a match on the TV with so much drama you’d think they were giving up a kidney.

  Or a man’s résumé will become suspiciously plump with female-friendly hobbies. Show me a single man in a yoga class, and I’ll show you a lad who’s trying to score major points with the fairer sex.

  The next thing he knows, he’s shaving his chest, shaving his toes, and shaving his balls. Which must mean he’s serious about her because that shit hurts.

  When it comes to manscaping, I think a trim here or there can go a long way, but go too far and you’ll look like a porpoise. And what woman wants to roll around in the sheets with Flipper?

  But by far the worst case I ever saw was a guy who swore to his sweetheart that he loved Ed Sheeran’s music. Even followed Ed’s Twitter feed and read reviews so he could convincingly wax on about the ginger phenom. (The fella even planned to tell his bride that he wanted “Shape Of You” to be their wedding song. I put my foot down. Go with “Castle on the Hill.” “Shape of You” is too obvious, and women can see through that lie.)

  As happy as I am that it worked out for these gents, especially after they pay my invoice as a specialty wedding service provider, it seems like a lot of work to keep up with all that—retweets, nether-region maintenance, or the pointless hell of football abstinence.

  I understand why men want to show off for women. Women are like sunshine and whiskey, lilies and diamonds. They’re sex and desire and everything good in the universe. They’re lovelier to gaze at than a priceless work of art. Hell, women are better than football, better than pints of ale, better than the Rolling Stones and occasionally even the Beatles, though I will deny that blasphemy even under torture.

  Women make a man’s merry-go-round keep turning, make life worth living. And they deserve to be annoyed if a guy who swore he hated football has a drawer full of Manchester United souvenirs.