Love, Exes, and Ohs (Cactus Creek #4)

Love, Exes, and Ohs (Cactus Creek #4)

Violet Duke




BOOK DESCRIPTION


He may very well be the perfect ex...

Isaac McKnight has had enough loss in his life to know never to take anything for granted. So when the perfectly-imperfect-woman-for-him puts an end to their relationship out of the blue, it's Isaac that makes sure they remain friends. Now a year later, whether it's at his gym or her brewpub, or the dog park they visit every weekend--though neither of them own a dog--he and Xoey are steadily getting sucked deeper into buddy-zone galaxy, with its dangerous proximity to watch-me-settle-down-with-someone-else abyss. It's a reality he's resigned himself to. That is...until one drunken confession changes everything.

But she's looking for the perfect oh...

For Xoey Montenegro, history has taught her that sometimes, it's Prince Charming who vanishes without a trace. And fairytale love? Highly overrated. Heck, give her a real and perfect 'oh' over that fantasy any day. So as far as rock-solid tequila-fueled plans for her love life go, coming up with a match-finding formula based on the qualities of the men responsible for her three most epic ohs seems brilliant. Except for the fact that one-third of her genius little man-quation is all about her friend Isaac. Actually, more than a third if Xoey were being honest with herself--which she's not. Because full honesty would require thinking not just about how perfect Isaac really is, but also about how perfect the fourth epic oh she's kept buried deep in her past once was.

An easy enough thing to keep ignoring...until her past isn't past tense anymore.





DEDICATION



To my incredible assistants who man Camp Violet, my spectacular shelf team, my five wonderful eretailer reps, the amazing folks at CreateSpace, AuthorCentral, and D2D, and my phenomenal stock image team.



Your fabulousness knows no bounds.





CHAPTER ONE


“THE MAN ATE his Caesar salad with a knife and fork, Isaac.”

Isaac McKnight tried—really tried—not to grin over that one but he was wholly unsuccessful. “I’m sure that’s not nearly as pretentious as it probably looked,” he reasoned graciously…before adding without any remorse whatsoever, “Or maybe the good doctor has been hiding a really small mouth under that bushy beard, and he needs to take dainty little bites.”

Yep, just call him Saint Isaac, patron of grace.

Xoey’s immediate burst of laughter over the phone line, which neither confirmed nor denied his guess, instantly had Isaac wondering which of her killer smiles she was wearing right now. He’d bet good money it was the one that lit up those deep mahogany-rich bedroom eyes of hers with pure mischief—the one that hinted her own thoughts were at least twice as sinful as anyone else’s in the room. And three times as unapologetic.

God, he loved that smile. For a few quality seconds with that smile, he’d gladly pony up with all the zingers he’d been storing regarding her most recent Mr. Wrong.

But he managed to restrain himself.

The last thing Isaac needed was to give karma more reasons to run his ass over.

He was, after all, one of Xoey’s Mr. Wrongs as well.

The reminder was an effective buzzkill that silenced the ticker tape parade that had been playing in his head all morning over Xoey’s latest love life development…an extraordinary showing of self-control for him that lasted a whole ten seconds. Maybe eleven.

A personal best.

With that new shoulder-patting record under his belt, he was already reaching up to switch the phone call over to his truck’s Bluetooth so he could listen to Xoey’s deal-breaking grievances from her date last night the way it was truly meant to be heard.

In stereo.

What could he say? The woman brought out all his ruthless, miserable-sonofabitch possessive tendencies. As far as he was concerned, hearing Xoey’s throaty voice take over his truck’s speakers with a list of reasons why the ‘third date’ she’d gone out on last night would in fact not be resulting in a fourth date—aka sex—with the pharmacist she’d met a few weeks back? Grammy-worthy music to his ears.

He simply didn’t see himself evolving any time soon.

“See, this is why I always insist on third dates in a restaurant,” continued Xoey, her laughter sobering. “Can you believe, after the salad, he wanted more wine so he actually snapped his finger at a passing restaurant worker—our seating hostess, mind you.”

Ouch. Strike two for the good doctor.

Had the poor schmuck been a Cactus Creeker, instead of just distantly related to one, he would’ve known that Xoey, local bartending legend and now part-owner of the town’s beloved brewpub, had a low threshold for that sort of thing. Her private fantasy was using the business end of her stilettos to kick out any fool who treated her own staff that way.

“And did I mention the man ordered his ribeye steak well done?”

Ding, ding, ding. Thanks for playing.

Discovering that a man liked his steak well-done was the equivalent of discovering a white stripe on the tail of a fluffy black cat in the woods in Xoey’s book.

Though he didn’t keep a record of such things—he really ought to—if he wasn’t mistaken, Xoey had stopped dating four guys in the past six months alone for that horrific red meat offense.