Read Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) Online
Authors: Nikki Sloane
Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) (39 page)
My idiot brain tried to come back online, and I shot an accusatory look at his brother. Nick had been carrying that ring all morning and had passed it to Logan without a word. “You told him I was coming.”
“Yeah,” Nick said, sheepish. “I was worried it would mess with his head too much if you weren’t there, and then showed up.”
“You’re breaking my rule, Evie,” Logan said. My overwhelmed mind struggled to figure out if he’d meant it playfully or seriously. Emotional tears blurred my vision.
“Will you marry me?”
He’d been with April twelve years and never done this. In less than three months with me, he was sure. And I was sure too. I wouldn’t fail at loving him. Wasn’t even possible.
“Yes,” I said.
It was barely a word, but it registered all the same. He took my shaky hand and slipped the band onto my finger, where it felt like it belonged. Strangers around us cheered and congratulated us. All I wanted was to be in his arms, and it looked like he had the same desire.
Then Logan made the mistake of trying to stand, and his face filled with alarm. “I’m not sure I can move.”
Nick hooked a hand under an arm and hauled Logan’s stiff body upright, ignoring the groan of discomfort this action caused his older brother. I ignored it too. I threw my arms around Logan’s neck, his sweat-soaked shirt beneath my hands. I loved it. I loved everything about him.
His mouth was hot and tasted like cherries from his energy gels, and he answered my urgent kiss by matching my intensity. A hand snaked behind my back to hold me against him, pressing me into his damp body and heaving chest.
“Did that really just happen?” I said in between his breathy kisses.
“I asked Hilary to get it on video because there are some people who are going to need visual proof.”
“Like Mom,” Nick chimed in.
I stared at the ring on my left hand which was still trembling when lips found mine and stole my focus. Holy shit, my fiancé knew how to kiss.
“Okay,” Nick interrupted, “congrats and all, but can you maybe hydrate so I don’t have to carry you when your muscles cramp up?”
I don’t think Logan wanted to. When I tried to release him so he could head to the table with water bottles, his arm remained locked around me.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
He grinned. “Oh, yeah.”
He was sweaty, and gorgeous, and . . . happy.
And he was mine.
chapter
TWENTY-SIX
The Saturday after Thanksgiving, my phone rang at five forty-five in the morning, bathing our bedroom in pale blue light. My hand fumbled and yanked it off the charger, and my bleary eyes looked at the screen. It was a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Payton.”
“Who’s dead?” I whispered into the phone, terrified. She knew better than to call this early.
“I am.” Payton’s voice was frantic. “Sorry I woke you.”
I sat up, concern flooding my body. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to you, I’m kind of freaking out. And I’m coming over.”
“Okay, but what’s happened? Are you all right?”
She paused, which only made my worry grow. “I’m okay. Well, no, not really. I’m gonna grab some coffee and then I’m headed your way.”
Logan was out cold, deep in a NyQuil coma. My fiancé had been fighting a cold for at least two days, refusing to admit defeat until last night. As we were getting ready to go out for drinks with our friends, he’d curled up under the covers, shivering. We ended up canceling, and I spent the night in bed, reading his iPad while he snored and coughed beside me. He looked better this morning. Also, he looked like he might sleep another four hours, which was good. Whatever was going on with Payton sounded serious.
The entire time I was in the shower I was worrying about her, and then a knot formed in my stomach. Oh, god, was she pregnant? She was careful in her personal life, and it was required at the club, but accidents did happen.
My shower was brief. I’d learned pretty soon after moving in with Logan that showering in the big glass enclosure by myself was a great way to end up cold. No wonder he always had the water so hot. I pulled my bin of cosmetics and hair stuff out from beneath the sink and dug out a ponytail holder, wrapped my wet hair back into a bun, and stored the bin away. I’d only moved in a week ago and was determined to keep my sloppiness to a minimum. I padded out into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast bar, staring out at the gorgeous view I’d never get used to.
I’d never get used to him, either, and didn’t want to. I couldn’t get enough of him. Ironically, I saw less of Logan at the office, but now that the cat was out of the bag and I was reporting to Kathleen, things improved everywhere else. Logan and I got ready in the mornings together, commuted together. We ate lunch out in the open when his schedule allowed it, and at the end of the day we came home together.
Jamie was instantly my new best friend when she saw me sporting the rock on my hand. Custom designed by Logan, of course. I think she wanted to swing an invite to the wedding, or possibly help me plan it. She’d been dropping some not-so-subtle hints like talking about how she’d planned her sister’s wedding. Even when Kathleen promoted me to Senior Designer over her, Jamie took it in stride.
At six-fifteen there was a sharp, single knock on the door, jarring me from my thoughts.
Payton came in like a blur, dropping a tray of coffee cups on the counter. Was all that coffee for her? Or had she been so freaked out she’d forgotten I didn’t drink the stuff? When I pull an all-nighter I look like death warmed over, but of course, not her. Her hair looked perfectly messy and tousled, and her makeup smudged to give her sexy, smoky eyes like a magazine ad. I could tell she hadn’t slept, though.
“Are you pregnant?” That was the greeting I gave her.
“What? No.” She yanked her coffee out of the tray with too much force and sent coffee slinging everywhere. She was vibrating with nervous, chaotic energy, and witnessing her like that was scary.
“What’s wrong?”
“I got let go from the club.” Her face was white. “I mean, I got fired.”
I froze with the paper towel in my hand, ready to clean up the coffee. “What?”
Her face fell into her hands. “What am I going to do?”
“Again, what? What happened?”
“This is all his fault, you know. He shouldn’t have said a damn thing.” She paced a circle in the living room. “Fuck, it was so much money.”
“Could you be more cryptic? Who are we talking about?”
She pulled to a stop and glared at me like I should know. “We’re talking about the guy who got me fired; the one who fucked up my life.”
“Your life?” I said, dubious. “You like what you do there, but, come on. That place is not your life.” Did she think that was rich coming from me, given what I’d done to keep my job?
“Ugh, no, I’m not talking about the club.” She set her coffee down that had been nothing more than a prop to occupy her busy hands. “Look at me, I’m a fucking mess. He owes me at least an apology. He should have warned me.”
“Jesus, Payton, who?”
Her gaze hardened. “Logan.”
What?
“Logan got you fired? How?”
“Because of what he did last night.”
She was making absolutely no sense. “Last night–? He was sick, and he was here with me.”
“Yeah,” she snapped. “I’m aware.”
She resumed her random pacing without explaining. It was like she was coming apart, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Worse, I couldn’t help her without understanding what had happened, and she wasn’t making sense, so I stormed into the bedroom and latched a hand on Logan’s bare shoulder.
“Hey,” I said softly, nudging him awake.
“Hey,” he mumbled back.
“So, uh, Payton’s in the living room.”
Logan rolled slowly onto his back, blinking his sleepy eyes at me, still not really awake.
“She got fired from the club last night.”
His eyes went clear and he launched upright, fully awake. “Payton was working at the club?”
“Apparently, and she thinks you’re the reason she got fired. Why’s that?”
“She must have gone in,” he said on a whisper, “when we canceled last night.” It was like he was thinking out loud.
His phone rang on the nightstand, the screen flashing an impossibly long number, and Logan’s alarm grew when he glanced at it. I could barely hear him over the ringtone.
“Oh, shit, Evie,” he said. “I think I did something I shouldn’t have.”
To be continued . . .
THANK YOU
_____
To my awesome husband. You are the fucking best.
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To my beta reader Robin Bateman for your amazing notes and fantastic support.
_____
To my editor Lori Whitwam for your hard work, putting up with my overuse of the word “that,” and your enthusiasm for the book.
_____
To my publicist Neda Amini for enduring my random questions, for helping me find an audience, and everything else you did to give this dirty book a great launch.
_____
To my best friend Amanda (don’t you dare call her Mandy) for showing me that my ending needed tweaking when you ran a kick-ass Chicago Marathon.
_____
To my former boss Adam for blowing off the meeting I spent months preparing for, so you could go get a massage the Friday before your race weekend. When I needed to introduce Logan’s character in an asshole way, I instantly thought of you.
THREE HARD LESSONS
I am the woman men pay thousands of dollars to fuck. I do what I love and what I’m so very good at.
Then, he walks in and drops $30,000. He wants to talk. And kiss. And take me home.
In a single night, this man turns everything upside-down and has me breaking every rule I’ve lived by to keep men at a distance. I’m about to learn some lessons the hard way.
Don’t tease him. Don’t give him boundaries. And don’t think you get a choice in who you love.
_____
Coming late Spring 2015
IF YOU ENJOYED THE BOOK
What had originally started as a novella and bloomed into a full-length novel, then a series, has been an absolute joy to write--one I could not stop, much like a drug. Thank you so much for taking the time to read Evie and Logan's story. If you enjoyed it, would you be so kind as to let other readers know via an Amazon review or on Goodreads? Just a few words can help an author tremendously and are
always
appreciated!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nikki Sloane fell into graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is married and has two sons, writes both romantic suspense and dirty books, and couldn’t be any happier.
Website:
NikkiSloane.com
Goodreads:
Nikki Sloane Author Page
Twitter:
@AuthorNSloane
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Nikki Sloane
COPYRIGHT
Text copyright © 2015 by Nikki Sloane
Cover photography © Shutterstock Images
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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