The Hot One(66)

“We beat our time from last year,” Penny points out, and Delaney smacks her friend’s palm.

“Next year, you’re going to join us, right?” Delaney says to Carly.

My niece laughs and shakes her head. “Only if I can do it on rollerblades.”

Delaney shrugs. “You drive a hard bargain.”

I point a thumb at my chest. “She learned all her negotiation skills from me. And speaking of negotiation, how about I take you all out for breakfast at The Charming Breakfast Spot?”

Four pairs of eyes light up. “Yes, but where’s the negotiation in that?” Delaney teases.

I shrug and smile. “Got me. Turns out there’s none. But I figured you all earned it with the way you ran for the dogs today.”

“And we are looking forward to eggs and toast,” Nicole says, then she narrows her eyes. “But don’t think you’re going to get any details out of me that I wouldn’t give up last time.”

In unison, Delaney and Penny zip their lips.

The first time I went out with her and her friends last week, the girls had been chatting about a new guy Nicole’s interested in, but they clammed up when I joined them. Delaney had asked me to meet up with them for cocktails at Speakeasy. I’ll admit it—I was a tad bit nervous meeting her friends. Knowing how close she is to them, I wasn’t sure if they’d welcome me with open arms.

I had nothing to worry about. Penny and Nicole love Delaney like a sister, so they grilled me as any family member would do. I can honestly say I enjoyed every second of their cross-examination, especially since I passed it. Nicole even pretended to tap me with a magic wand at the end, declaring, “We like you. Now, be good to our girl always.”

I nodded solemnly. “That’s a promise.”

And as I head to the café, holding Carly’s little hand in mine so we can scout out a table in advance, that’s exactly what I intend to do.





Another Epilogue





Someday, maybe someday soon



* * *



Tyler



* * *



I groan when I wake up.

I wish I were making this sound because Delaney’s lips were wrapped around my dick.

That would be my favorite kind of alarm clock.

Though, in her defense, she does, indeed, provide cock-a-doodle-doo services on a fairly regular basis.

I am one lucky bastard.

The only part of me that isn’t so lucky is the neck.

This damn cat.

Mr. Crazypants is wrapped around my neck, motherfucking purring in my ear. Don’t get me wrong. This cat is cool as hell. But his cuddly tendencies have put a crook in my spine.

I’ve never been so sore in my life.

Fortunately, I’m involved with the best damn masseuse in all of New York City. She insisted on scheduling a massage for me today. Sure, she rubs my neck at home, too, and last night, she gave me one fantastic massage. But she told me I needed to get my behind into Nirvana at nine a.m. sharp so she could work on me properly. It’s Saturday, and she’s already at work. I gently remove the cat from his scarf pose, swing my legs over the bed, and stretch, trying to work out the kinks.

I hit the shower, get dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, grab my wallet, phone, and shades, and head for the door. The orange fluff ball rubs against my leg.

“Meow!”

Mr. Crazypants rises up on his back legs and paws me with his twelve front toes. Delaney was right—six-toed cats are the bomb. Even though his zealous cuddling is a pain in the neck, he’s a badass dude otherwise. Delaney loves him, and he makes her happy, so that’s a big win-win in my book.

“Be back soon, little dude,” I say, then scratch him between the ears.

He rewards me with a loud rumble, and then I take off.

Fifteen minutes later, I reach the front door of Nirvana. Inside, Felipe greets me with a smile and a waggle of his fingers.

“Delaney is almost ready for you. Let me show you back. And I know you’re still a no-robe man,” he says as he escorts me to the Rainfall Room.

“No robes forever. That’s my mantra.”

Felipe opens the door, shoots me a smile, and shuts it as he leaves. I strip down to nothing, thinking back briefly to when I did this many months ago. I smile privately, loving that it set the two of us in motion.

I fold my clothes, place them on top of a stool, and climb onto the table. I know the routine well by now, since Delaney schedules regular massages for me.

We moved in together after a few months of dating. “The cat wants it, and so do I,” she said one Sunday afternoon following another epic session of walking and kissing—in Greenwich Village that particular day, wandering in and out of shops and cafés.

“If Mr. Crazypants wants me full-time, then so be it,” I’d said.

“And me,” she’d reminded me.

We moved into my apartment, and she quickly added her feminine touches, including setting some lovely lilacs by the window. I did my part by making sure she had all the closet space she needed. For her clothes, and for all those new shoes.

As I linger on a recent memory of her wearing silver pumps while waiting for me in the kitchen, holding a glass of chardonnay, the door opens. I peer up from the face cradle to see a blond beauty wearing yoga pants and a sweet smile just for me.