Chirp(93)

“Good. Now, take the iPod, scroll to “The Only One Who Gets Me,” and push play.”

The music blared through the surround sound. Rance threw the door open and began to dance, pantomime, and unbutton his shirt. Wren’s smile turned into giggles as he rolled his shoulders, slipped one sleeve down partway, then pulled it back up and wiggled his brows.

She took her bottom lip between her teeth. Muttly buried his head beneath the pillows.

Then Rance clutched both sides of his shirt, ripped it off, swung it in the air, and tossed it to her.

She caught it and squealed.

He grabbed the jamb, gyrated against it, and undid the top button of his Levi’s.

Her mouth formed a perfect O.

Moving to the next button, he turned away from her, hooked his thumbs in the waist of his pants, inched them down, then back up. Twirling to face her, he released another button and winked. “You want more?”

Wren widened her eyes and nodded.

When the song got to the word strong, he flexed his biceps like a bodybuilder.

Hands above his head, he hip-swayed toward her, then stopped at the edge of the mattress. “Happy twenty-first birthday, baby.” He pulled her into his arms, and they danced.

She took a deep breath, melted against him, and kissed the scar from the bullet wound. God, she’d been so scared. Even now the memory caused her stomach to hurt. The best and worst of times all rolled into one. He’d recovered, and Marla was behind bars.

“All the women were jealous today when I got flowers every hour. They think you’re the perfect man.”

“But you know better.” He twirled her, then dipped her low. “Are you nervous about the press conference tomorrow?”

“A little. Uncle Bill said we have bids from several magazines to do an exclusive interview.”

“Well, it’s the official passing of the torch. That’s plenty newsworthy. It’s your call, but it’s a good time to let the world know about the changes.”

“I have an idea,” Wren said.

“About what?”

“Start a foundation to finance education for prisoners or their children. We can use the money from the magazine interview. You got your degree there, and look how great you turned out.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I seduced a rich girl to get ahead.”

She punched his shoulder. “Your cell mate, Hector. You said he has a son. Maybe he could be our first recipient.”

Rance let out a long sigh, and his eyes misted. “I’ll never figure out how why you fell in love with me, but I’m sure glad you did.” He planted a hot, wet kiss. The kind that made her toes curl.

She leaned away and gazed up at him. “You’re nice, too. You hired Tom Fraser as head of security.”

“Yeah. He has the credentials. And since he’s marrying Helga that almost makes him family. Seems our social calendar is getting crowded. Their wedding in two weeks. Seth and Hanna’s in three. Then your art show in New York. You okay with all that?”

“Are you?”

“Yeah, if you can tolerate my fans wanting to tear my clothes off for a better look.” He broke into laughter.

“And they haven’t even seen you strip.”

“And never will. This is a private performance. But fair warning—now that you’re legal to drink, I plan to get you drunk and talk you into all sorts of lascivious things. How’s that for a word of the day?”

“I don’t have to be drunk to do lewd things with you.”

“Yeah, well, right now I want you to take a relaxing soak in the tub because I have dinner coming from Frisco’s. All your favorites. Shrimp platter, filet mignon, chateau mashed potatoes, asparagus, and, since you can never make your mind up between the strawberry cheesecake and bread pudding, I ordered both.”

She slid off his lap and pushed him back on the bed. “See, you are nice.”

He slapped her on the butt. “That’s my job, babe. To keep you happy. So get a move on. They’ll be here at eight.”

“Okay. But before that, let’s mark the elevator off my list.”

He grinned. “I like how you think.”

She hooked a finger in a belt loop on each side of his jeans, tugged them down, and smiled. “Happy birthday to me.”





All about Ann


Award-winning and Amazon best-selling author Ann Everett embraces her small-town upbringing and thinks Texans are some of the funniest people on earth. When speaking to writing groups, businesses, book clubs, and nonprofit organizations, she incorporates her special brand of wit, making her programs on marketing, self-publishing, and the benefits of laughter informative and fun.

She lives on a small lake in northeast Texas where she writes, bakes, and fights her addiction to Diet Dr. Pepper.

Ten More Things about Ann She’s married to her high school sweetheart.

She loves shopping at thrift stores.

She doesn’t remember her first kiss.

She hates talking on the telephone.

A really sharp pencil makes her happy.

She secretly wants to get a tattoo.

Being a charter member of the National Honor Society in high school remains one of her proudest moments.

She’s thankful wrinkles aren’t painful.

She sucks at math.