Say hi to Addison, Jordan, and baby Piper!
This is the stock photo I absolutely fell in love with and had to write a story for. That image is on two other book covers but I DON’T CARE. Well, maybe I will when it’s closer to release day but I freaking LOVE that baby! And did I say that her name is Piper? And her mom is Addison Rowe, as in Dr. Rowe from Everything She Ever Wanted, the transplant physician who happens to be part of Harlow’s group practice.
I had first published (for preorder) it on Pronoun last month but the word “placeholder” triggered something so they couldn’t publish it until I replaced the file. Here’s hoping the second try will go through.
“You can send him in.”
Kathy hesitates, her brow furrowing as she studies me for a few moments. “Okay. Just holler if you need me.”
“Give me five minutes before you do, though.” I get up from my desk and shut the door behind her. My heart is pounding, and I’m shaking. Why is he here, and why now? I sent him those text messages a year ago; not too many that it would make it appear that I was stalking him, and not too few to make it appear like I didn’t care. Just two messages asking if we could meet and talk.
Addison: Can we meet over coffee?
His answer was brief—and two weeks late.
Jordan: I can’t right now. What is this about?
Addison: I can’t say it over the phone but I need to talk to you.
He never answered after that. And I didn’t follow it up with anything else. If he didn’t want to know, then he didn’t deserve to.
I check my reflection in the mirror, smoothing my brown hair with my fingers. My makeup is simple, just a light foundation and a dusting of powder so I don’t look too plain. Light eyeshadow and mascara and little liner. These days, I don’t have time to play makeup like I used to. My schedule is crazy enough as it is.
I press my lips together, noting the lines that have begun to form along the corners. Damn laugh lines. I’m only 32-years-old, for crying out loud, although I do take care of myself the best I can despite my crazy schedule. Monthly massages and facials though I do my nails myself. Just to be sure, I check my cuticles.
Stop it, Addison. This isn’t why he’s seeing you.
I take a deep breath and open the door just as Kathy lets a tall man with cropped strawberry blond hair into the back office. He’s more handsome than I remember him, with deep blue eyes and a kind smile. Stubble lines his wide jaw. With his broad chest and shoulders and defined thighs, he’s clearly spent a lot of time at the gym. Is that why he never bothered to answer my text messages? Too busy working out?