The following day was Boxing Day. After a sleep-in, followed by a day of hard skiing and snowboarding, hot tub time to ease achy muscles and some killer turkey pot pie made by Rowan and Juney, the group hiked their way back to the ski lodge and into the Tipsy Moose. Rowan heaved the solid well-worn wooden door open for everyone, and they were all immediately slapped upside the face by loud laughter, even louder music, and the warmth of more than four dozen bodies and a dancing fire in the hearth. Making their way inside, with Will at the front and Austin at the back, they all took in the show.

Pool tables, a Keno board, a dart board were off in one corner, and a couple of slot machines took up another. There was a stage for live music next to the hearth and what appeared to be a very old but well maintained jukebox between the doors to the washrooms. Various mounted animal heads lined the log walls, with a big elk overtop the fireplace. A few stuffed birds sat perched in various positions on small ledges, and the odd big trophy fish hung on a wooden plaque with a gaping mouth and curved tail. The wooden tables showed serious signs of wear, with moisture rings and knife marks, and the dark green carpet was heavily trodden, but the place was clean. A handful of neon signs for mass market breweries like Labatt and Molson hung behind the bar, while a few more, for local Washington state breweries, were poised between the animal heads on the wall.

Rowan reached for Juney’s hand and tugged her through the moguls of tables and chairs. “Here’s a free booth. Let’s grab it quick.”

She grinned at him and gave his hand a tender squeeze back. “Sounds good.”

Hunter and Austin followed them, while Will and Amber walked up to the bar and ordered the first round.

“The poster said they have karaoke,” Juney said. Well, more like slightly hollered as the music from the sound system was a tad too loud to carry on a decent conversation at a reasonable decibel.

“Oooh, I love karaoke,” Hunter said, bouncing in her seat and rubbing her hands together. “A few of my employees go out to this cool after-hours Korean karaoke bar a block or so from Pike Place. I’ve tagged along half a dozen times. It’s nothing like this though. You get your own room, pick your songs, read them on the screen and go crazy.”

Juney giggled. Rowan loved her laugh. Even her giggle was throaty and sexy, and it made his prick twitch inside his pants and his heart rate go into overdrive. Just like Will was always looking for a reason to touch Amber, Rowan couldn’t get enough of Juney. He draped his arm around her in the booth. The look in her eyes said it all. Sapphire flames and lust danced hot and bothered back at him, and at that moment, he knew he was going to fulfill another one of her fantasies tonight.

“My sister, Fern, and I traveled to Japan for work, years ago,” Juney started, “and we went to one of those karaoke room bars as well. It was intense. Each room had a different theme. We got the ‘green’ room. Everything, and I mean everything was green. Even the doorknobs, the microphone, the keyboard. There was a giant Granny Smith apple on the wall behind us. It was sensory overload, and when we left, we were drunk on Japanese wine, and rather than pizza, we were craving apples. We ran to the nearest grocery store and bought a five-pound bag.”

“It’s the same at the Korean one downtown,” Hunter said with a nod. “I’ve been in the black and white room, the Elvis room, the Michael Jackson room, and the Boyband room.”

“Libations!” Will announced, sauntering over with two beers and a scotch for himself in hand. Amber was behind him cradling a beer and two glasses of wine. She handed the wine to Juney and Hunter and then took a seat next to Austin. He thanked Will for his beer and quickly tilted the bottle up to drink.

A man with a clipboard and crisp white T-shirt over what could only be a six-pack beneath walked over and flashed everyone at the table a big toothy smile. Rowan was pulling Juney tighter against him before he even knew what he was doing.

“Howdy, y’all! Merry Christmas and Happy Boxing Day. Welcome to the Tipsy Moose. I’m Hank, and I’m passing around the sign-up sheet for the karaoke, if any of y’all are interested.” He set a scuffed and torn green binder on the table. “These here are the songs. We’ve got pretty much everything. Take a peek, find something you like, and then sign up on the form here and when you’re done, bring it over to me at the stage there.”

His eyes roamed around the table and across everyone’s faces, but he stopped and held his stare a little longer when he passed over Hunter, and then again when he passed over Juney. Will was busy nuzzling Amber’s neck, staking his claim like the red-blooded alpha that he was. Shit, should Rowan be doing the same? Should he lean over and shove his tongue down Juney’s throat? He’d have to wait to do that kind of thing once he had a couple of beers down the hatch.

Hunter picked up the binder and smiled back at Hank. Since that afternoon, something in her had changed. She no longer seemed to care that Austin wasn’t paying attention to her; if anything, she was avoiding him as well. She batted those long eyelashes of hers at Hank and leaned into the table, the edge pushing up her breasts until they practically spilled out of her tight black V-neck T-shirt. Rowan heard Austin gulp next to him.

“This is great,” Hunter said, thumbing through the binder. “Do you have anything by the Arkells?”

Austin’s back stiffened to the point where he jostled Rowan. Rowan shot him a dirty look, but the guy seemed oblivious. He was too busy grinding his molars and trying to pop Hank’s head off with his geeky mind power.

Hank’s eyes were fixated on Hunter’s chest. “We do. ‘Leather Jacket,’ ‘Whistleblower,’ ‘11:11,’ and ‘Ballad of Hugo Chavez.’ ”

Deliberately making sure to push her breasts up even further, Hunter leaned across the table and reached for the pen. “ ‘Leather Jacket,’ please,” she said sweetly.

Hank winked at her. “You got it, sweetheart. I’ve got copies of the binder, so I’ll leave it here in case you guys want to make more selections. There are about ten people ahead of you, but when it’s your turn, I’ll let you know, okay?”

She flipped her blonde hair back over her shoulder, and her mouth stretched out into a big closed-mouth smile. “Sounds perfect,” she purred.

Rowan and Will both coughed, Amber and Juney averted their eyes, and Austin, well, Austin looked like he was about to suffer an apoplexy or challenge Hank to a duel.

“There’ll be dancing a bit later too. Save one for me?” Hank asked. He flipped his brown hair back off his eyes and flashed another big smile at Hunter. The rest of the table could have been empty, the occupants naked or all suffering from dysentery, and he wouldn’t have noticed. He only had eyes for Hunter.

Dear lord, was this flirting? It was awkward to watch. Rowan could only imagine how awkward and forced it felt to those immediately involved. Thank God he and Juney had skipped that. Well, except for his random comments that made her cringe, laugh, and then shut him up with her delicious little lips. She really was the perfect woman. He squeezed her hand again and let his other hand draw light circles on her sculpted shoulder. He had to wonder, though, was Hunter actually interested in Hank, or was she simply behaving this way to piss off Austin? Because either way, it was working like a hot damn.

Hunter lifted one shoulder and took a dainty sip of her wine, her lashes falling against her cheeks as she savored the malbec on her tongue and swirled it around for a few moments before swallowing. Both Hank and Austin’s eyes were riveted on her face and then her neck as it undulated softly with her swallow. He could only imagine what those men envisioned her swallowing.

“Maybe. I’ve never been much of a dancer. I have to have quite a few glasses of wine coursing through my veins before I’ll step out on to the dance floor. And even then, I always seem to have two left feet.”

Hank leaned over, putting his elbow on the table, not giving too hoots that he was popping Austin’s bubble and essentially partitioning him off from the rest of the group. “Don’t worry, darlin’, with me, your feet won’t even hit the ground.” Then he grabbed her hand, turned it palm up and let his lips fall to her wrist. “I’ll come find you when the right song is on.”

“So, the chicken dance?” Rowan said, before he could stop himself.

Hank’s eyes left Hunter and fell to Rowan. Both men smiled uncomfortably before Hank stood back up. Well, that seemed to have broken the spell that Hank had cast upon the table. The intruder chuckled softly in his chest as he nodded. “Slower than the chicken dance.” He winked at Hunter again and took off toward the next table.

Was that the sound of a train? Rowan looked over at Austin. Nope, just steam coming out of the guy’s ears as his face turned bright purple and his eye did this weird twitchy thing.

Seriously, dude, what the hell is your problem?

Juney headed off to the washroom to go freshen up. She’d been trying so hard not to break the seal, but in the end it was a futile attempt. Excusing herself, she finished her wine, nodded at Hunter that she’d split another bottle with her and then took off toward the door marked “Does.”

Two bottles of wine, three shots of tequila, a few hours, and several beers later, everyone was feeling good. Hunter had kicked Will’s ass at pool, twice, and now the doctor was on the hook for picking up the entire bar tab for their group. And it didn’t matter how many wine or beers the rest of them were drinking, three fingers of Will’s scotch cost the same as one bottle of the malbec Juney and Hunter had split. The doctor had expensive taste.

Besides the awkwardness at the table when they’d first arrived, things had been going well. Rowan was affectionate and sweet, keeping them all laughing, while Amber and Will told stories about work and Hunter filled in the gaps with tales of her time spent backpacking and hitchhiking across the country. The only wet blanket was Austin, and even he, as the night went on and the booze started to flow, seemed to loosen up. He still wouldn’t really talk to Hunter, but she seemed resigned to that fact and ignored him, too. It broke Juney’s heart that the two of them weren’t connecting. She knew how they felt about each other, and they knew it, too, but for some reason, Austin lacked the confidence to even speak to Hunter, let alone woo or pursue. Juney was glad that her match had the cojones to knock on her door that first night. As much as she liked Austin, she wasn’t sure she could be with a man who had such insecurities, when she herself had insecurities up the wazoo.

She checked herself in the mirror and used a tissue from her purse to blot her forehead and beneath her eyes. It was warm in the bar, and no matter how good of a makeup artist you were, things changed under the fluorescent lights.

The music outside started up again, and she could hear voices singing to the karaoke. They weren’t terrible, but they weren’t great, either. You could tell whoever was singing the duet, they had both been drinking for a while. Gaps in the song were filled with giggles and random “ahs” as the singer took a drink.

She took one last look in the mirror. It didn’t matter that she was in the wine business; a whole bottle of wine and tequila shots in the span of a couple of hours, and she was feeling it. In her toes, her fingers, her eyes, her head. Juney was drunk.

Grabbing the brushed brass handle to the bathroom door, she swung it open and came face to face with the image of Hunter and Rowan on stage singing. Their arms were looped around each other, each had a microphone, and they were belting out the words to the song at the top of their lungs with enormous, happy smiles plastered on their drunk faces.

And they looked like the perfect couple.

Both blond. Both with million-dollar mega-watt smiles. Big beautiful eyes, killer bodies. Where Rowan had pecs, Hunter had breasts. Breasts Juney only ever dreamed of having, rather than the modest B-cup bee-stings she hid beneath the padded push-up she was wearing now. Hunter’s breasts were perfect. Hunter and Rowan were perfect. They were a match.

How could she have been so foolish to think that Rowan was her match? That Daisy’s algorithm had deemed Juney and Rowan soulmates? She was probably matched with Austin. They were both insecure. Both smart and nerdy. But he looked at her as more of a mother or sister, and despite the fact that he wasn’t acting on it, he only had eyes for Hunter. Did all the men want Hunter? Was Will settling for Amber too? Or maybe Juney was matched with Will? No, he didn’t want kids. Daisy had to have put that into her computer.

Juney’s mouth went slack and despair chilled her veins to the point of pain as she stared at the couple on stage. She could feel the blood drain from her face. Their smiles were so natural as they glanced at the screen with the lyrics, then at each other, then back at the screen, then out into the crowd.

Rowan was not her match.

She wanted to move. Wanted to run back into the bathroom or down the road. Run away so that the tears could fall where no one could see them, but she couldn’t. Fear, despair, sadness, they had cemented themselves inside her, in her feet, in her heart. She was immobile. Forced to watch them until the song was over. And then of course, Rowan, being Rowan, pulled Hunter close and planted a big kiss on her temple before tipping his beer up and draining it. It wasn’t until he pulled it away from his mouth that he noticed Juney standing there.

Thoughts, so many of them, scattered across his face, along with fear and confusion.

Juney made to turn away. This time her feet cooperated and left the floor, aiding her in her quest to flee. She couldn’t watch what she knew in her heart to be a match made in blond-bombshell, California beach-bum heaven. They were meant to be. She’d been deluding herself these last few days that Rowan could be her match, possibly be interested in her. Not when Hunter was there and available. No. She needed to leave. Let them discover their attraction organically, without her broken heart in the way. She pushed the bathroom door open again, but before she could duck inside, Rowan was behind her.

“Juney!”

“Leave it, Rowan. I’m such an idiot!”

He pushed her into the washroom and spun her around to face him, his hands on her shoulders. “Why are you an idiot? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and bit her lip. Tears stung the back of her eyes, and her throat threatened to seize up. “It’s nothing. Just forget it.” Sadness hollowed out her stomach.

He shook her gently, his eyes pleading with her to open up. “Tell me why you looked so terrified when I saw you standing there a second ago. What the hell happened?”

Swallowing hard, she continued to shake her head. “I—I’m not your match!”

“What?” His brows pinched until an adorable wrinkle formed between them.

“You and Hunter. Up there. You are the perfect couple. Both blond and beautiful. I can’t compete with her.” Oh fuck, now she was a blubbering mess. The tears were coming down, hot and rapid. She bunched the sleeve of her long-sleeved gray shirt in her fist and used it to wipe her eyes and cheeks.

“What?” he asked again. “Where is this coming from?”

“Seeing you two up there, I realized I’m nothing compared to her. You’re beautiful people. You’re supposed to be together. Make beautiful babies, live in your beautiful house, have a beautiful dog. I’m not like you.”

“You’re not beautiful?”

She shook her head. No. I’m an ugly duckling. Forrest Gump.

“Juney . . . ”

The man was at a loss.

“Y-you’re right, you’re not beautiful.”

Her head snapped back up to his face from where she’d been looking at her feet.

“You’re not beautiful. Beautiful is an overused word. Baby, you’re . . . you’re fucking stunning. Gorgeous, breathtaking, striking. You’re not beautiful, because beautiful isn’t a good enough word to describe you. I wish you could see yourself as I see you, because when you’re in the room, you’re all I see. Are you upset I was singing with Hunter?”

She didn’t know what to say or how to react. Suddenly her head was bobbing. Her stomach hurt, and her temples pounded. No more booze.

He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. She’d actually asked Austin to go and sing with her. Looks like booze hits us all in different ways. I apparently sing karaoke, Hunter doesn’t give a shit and gets ballsy, and you . . . ”

“I turn into a jealous, emotional lunatic.”

“You turn into sweet, adorable, slightly more emotional Juniper Davis. A woman who in only a short amount of time has managed to make me crazy . . . and in a good way. I’m not interested in Hunter. She’s like a kid sister. And I felt bad for her when Austin turned her down. As for the peck on the cheek, well, I give that same kiss to my sister, Annie, when I see her. I’m sorry, though, if it made you second-guess my feelings for you.”

Her face was on fire, and her throat was raw. But the ache in her heart was slowly receding, and although everything seemed blurry at the moment through all the tears, Juney was seeing Rowan more clearly than ever.

“And for the record, I kind of like the jealousy.” His grin was wily. “Lets me know how crazy you are about me, too.”

She hiccupped, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“F-for thinking you wanted Hunter simply because you were singing up there. You’re allowed to be friends with her. You’re allowed to sing. I’m not a jealous nut job like that, I swear. It’s gotta be the booze. Stupid Hunter and her shots of tequila.”

Rowan chuckled as he stepped forward and let his hand fall to her waist. “You’re not a nut job. And I happen to think you’re an adorable drunk.”

She sniffed. “Even when I’m flying off the handle and turning green with jealousy?”

He nodded. “Even then, because it happens to be a lovely shade of green. Like romaine lettuce or fresh arugula.”

A hiccupy laugh bubbled up, and she finally smiled. He always knew how to make her smile. She looked up into his eyes but found no humor there. They were smoldering, lightning hot. The lighting in the bathroom was terrible, fluorescent and almost yellowy, but even then, fire seemed to dance in his soft brown irises as he looked down at her. She bit her lip. That look, it turned her insides to mush and made her heart palpitate so fast she feared it would beat right out of her chest and sprint its way across the floor. Not to mention the tingle that drifted across her skin, down her spine and belly to seat itself between her legs.

His hand released her waist and shifted up to her face. A knuckle gently ran down her cheek, collecting the last of her tears. His gaze flew to the door, back to her face, then the door again. Suddenly, he released her and stalked the three strides to the deadbolt.

“Locked or unlocked?”

She shook her head. “Huh?”

“Do you want me to fuck you in this bathroom with the door locked or unlocked?” His eyes darkened to the color of warm bourbon.

All the moisture left her mouth.

“Juney?”

“Uh . . . l-locked. We’ve already been caught once.”

Grinning back at her, he switched the lock. He returned, cradling her body in less than a second. “I want you and only you, Juney. Let me show you.” He sank to his knees and let his hands trail up her black leather boots, continuing up her legs. Along the stretchy fabric of her . . . His eyes flew up to hers when he reached the top of her thighs. “These aren’t tights!”

Her lips pursed, and she shook her head. They were thick, dark gray, cable-knit thigh-high socks. Juney wasn’t even sure where she’d got them—her sister Fern, maybe? But on a last-minute whim she’d tossed them into her suitcase, figuring they’d pair well with her black pleated skirt and long-sleeve gray shirt. She’d nearly frozen her ass off on the walk up to the lodge, but the expression on Rowan’s face had been totally worth it.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, his fingers making their way up to the waistband of her underwear and pulling it down.

Juney hadn’t been foolish enough to wear a thong and a skirt with the socks, but lacy boy-shorts weren’t out of the question.

Rowan slid her panties down her legs, his eyes going wide as he took in the red lace.

She stepped out of them.

“Juney,” he purred, inching forward, his hands wandering back up her thighs. He helped lift her leg and place one foot on the counter so she was even more exposed to him. The cool air was a welcome balm on her scorching skin. He ran his finger back along her legs and then beneath her skirt. One hand cupped her butt, and the other one came forward and dipped into her folds. “You’re so wet.” His breath was warm on her sensitive skin as he ducked his head beneath her skirt and planted hot, searing kisses on her inner thighs and lips. “Wet for me.”

Juney’s knees wobbled and threatened to buckle beneath her, but Rowan kept a tight grip on her ass as his lips encircled her clit and sucked. She wasn’t going anywhere. He hummed softly, and the gentle vibration sent new shards of pleasure swirling through her.

This man wanted her.

Not Hunter, not Amber.

Her!

She closed her eyes and pushed into his face, her hands coming down to rest on the top of his head. His face was buried beneath her skirt, so all she could see was the nape of his neck, but even that was dead sexy. He swept the flat of his tongue up through her folds, and Juney let out a low moan.

Damn, that felt good.

And only when he knew she was close, shamelessly pushing into his face, would he mix it up and suck again or twiddle her clit with his finger. She was on the edge, riding along that inch-thick ledge like a damn circus clown on a unicycle, and every time she thought she was going to topple over and fall, Rowan would bring her right back.

But this wasn’t all she wanted. She wanted him to take her, all of her, in here. In the dirty bar bathroom with dozens of people outside. They all probably knew what she and Rowan were up to, but she didn’t care. A part of her liked that. Juney had never done a spontaneous or wild thing in her life, and that had to change.

She pulled on his ears. “Not like this,” she said breathlessly. One last flick to her clit that made her knees nearly buckle and Rowan stood up, his knees popping like an old man’s as he brought himself to his feet with a slight groan.

His eyes were glassy, and his hungry lips glistened with her arousal. Juney lunged forward and tasted herself on him. She’d never tasted anything so erotic before. His need pressed hard and long into her hip, and the desire to taste him, to have him in her mouth, pleasure him the way he’d pleasured her, took over and she sank to the floor in a crouch, pulling Rowan’s zipper down along with her. She freed him from his boxers and cupped his balls, giving them a gentle tug.

Rowan watched her from above. With a smug smile, their gazes locked as she took him in her mouth.

Rowan had never met a woman like Juney before. So unbelievably amazing, sexy, gorgeous, smart, and yet, she had absolutely no idea she possessed any of those qualities. They hadn’t really talked much about their childhoods yet, or what it had been like growing up, but based on a few things she’d said in passing, Rowan guessed childhood hadn’t been easy for poor little Juniper.

But the woman had certainly made up for it in her adult years. Highly successful author and vintner, entrepreneur extraordinaire. And the fact that she was one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever laid eyes on made her the whole damn package. It’d broken his heart to see her face when the song with Hunter had ended. He thought someone had died. And now, his jealous blue-eyed beauty was on her knees in front of him, with his shaft in her pretty mouth as she cupped his balls and swirled that talented tongue of hers around and around.

Did she know what she was doing to him? Making him hers. He would do anything for this woman. Walk across hot coals, jagged glass. He barely knew her and yet she already had him by the balls, literally and figuratively.

His hands dove into the satiny strands of her dark brown hair, and he let his fingers comb through until he reached the base of her skull. Then he gathered it in his fist like a ponytail and guided her deeper. This wasn’t the first time she’d taken him in her mouth; he knew she could go deeper. He wanted to feel every inch of her hot little mouth, feel those plump lips at the base of his cock as her tonsils tickled his crown.

She blinked up at him and smiled with her mouth full of him. Jesus Christ, he nearly came on the spot. When a beautiful lone tear sprung from the corner of her eye as she deep-throated him again, her hand guided him to the back, where her throat muscles contracted around him. He was hitting her so deep, he could barely stand it.

Before it was too late, he reached under her arms and lifted her off the floor. “Fuck, Juney, that was incredible. That mouth . . . Dear God.”

“In-inside me, Rowan,” she panted, her eyelids hooded. “Now . . . please!”

He growled as he spun her around to face the mirror. He flipped up her skirt. Dear sweet baby Jesus, those socks, those boots, her delicious ass. It was all too much. With his hands on her hips, he angled himself at her core. Their eyes locked in the mirror ahead, and she smiled back at him. It was a wicked smile. A dirty smile. A smile that said, “Take me, big boy, and make me scream.”

She gripped the edge of the counter and lifted her hips up to help him. He notched himself at her center and drove home. A sharp cry fled her lips as he impaled her, hitting her deep on the first thrust. Damn, she felt good. Hot and slick and tight. And the way she gripped him like a fist, her pussy pulsing and squeezing him on every draw, begging him to come back deeper inside, desperate to hold on to him. She was pure sex, and she didn’t even know it.

“Rowan,” she said with a kittenish mewl. “Oh God, Rowan.”

Yes.

“Rowan . . . oh God. Don’t stop.”

I won’t. Not ever.

He bared his teeth and picked up the pace, hitting her deeper, hitting her harder, hitting her faster. The sound of flesh slapping flesh ricocheted around the small bar bathroom, competing with their groans and sighs. He was already close. She just felt so good. So right.

He wanted to feel more of her beneath his palm. Wanted to feel her clit swell and harden in his fingertips as he took her to the brink and then tossed her over. Releasing his grasp on her hip with one hand, he hunched over her body and wrapped his arm around her, lifting her skirt up to explore her folds. He felt himself sliding in and out of her, his shaft rock solid and soaked from her dripping pussy. He found her clit and tugged on it. She gasped, followed by a low and erotic moan as she pushed down into his ministrations. Begging for more.

Another tug followed by a sharp pinch.

“Rowan . . . ” She sighed. “I’m close.”

“Me too. Come, babe.”

She pushed back into him and let her head hang down between her arms, her hair falling in front of her face in dark chunky tendrils. He drew his tongue up the vein in her neck and nipped her earlobe. “Come, Juney.”

“Oh G-od . . . ” Her body went stiff, her clit swelled and hardened, and her cleft pulsed around him in unbelievable heat as she let go, her whimpers and sighs music to his ears.

“Yes.”

“Rowan . . . ”

“Juniper.” His balls tightened and drew up. He stilled, let out a loud grunt into her shoulder as he clamped down hard with his teeth, and allowed the climax to claim him. Blood rushed through his veins like a flooded river as the orgasm unfurled inside him and pleasure radiated out from his center in waves. He spilled himself inside of her, her sweet little pussy milking him, squeezing him, capturing his seed.

Yes.

No one but Juney.

Seconds later, she let out a sated sigh, and her back slumped beneath him, her breathing coming out in slow, ragged gasps as she fought to rejoin reality. He felt the same way. It was a euphoric experience being with Juney. Ethereal. Unreal.

He slipped from her, and she stood up. Like a gentleman, he ducked into one of the bathroom stalls and came out with a wad of toilet paper to help her clean up.

“Here,” he said, picking her sexy red underwear off the counter. “I’d love it if you kept them off for the rest of the night, but it’s probably safer if you didn’t.”

She smiled demurely at him and took them from him, her lashes fanning out against her rosy cheeks as she glanced down at her feet. She was embarrassed. It was sweet.

“I, um . . . ”

“I’ll leave you to freshen up,” he said with a chuckle, tucking himself back into his boxers and pants, taking extra care not to catch his slowly deflating johnson in the zipper. “But when you’re done, come back out. I think we should do a duet together. And I definitely want to spin this sweet ass of yours around on the dance floor.” He grabbed her hand and spun her around right there in the bathroom.

She looked up at him and smiled. It was a smile that said a thousand words and made Rowan’s heart beat a thousand times and his stomach do a thousand somersaults.

“I’d like that.”