The Fix (The Carolina Connections, #1)(64)

She and I met when I was doing a brief stint as a receptionist at the same company she was temping for. At the time, Laney had been raising a baby, going to college, and working a part-time job.

Needless to say, Laney rocks, and I am in complete awe of her most of the time. She is a single mom to a five-year-old little heartbreaker named Rocco (Oh, excuse me, he now demands that I say he is five-and-three-quarters) and she almost ties my mom for being the best mom in the world. However, Laney’s inability to wear stilettos or any article of clothing made from a material other than cotton will eventually result in Rocco growing up to marry a girl with similarly bad taste—and that’s just irresponsible. Therefore, she rates second in the best mom competition.

What my best friend lacks in fashion sense, though, she makes up for in her taste in men. She recently scored herself one seriously hot man in the form of an adorably doting construction god named Nate. I often want to cry tears of joy at his love and dedication to Laney and Rocco—well that and his tight ass.

What? Laney doesn’t care that I ogle him. Sometimes we even do it together. It’s a bonding thing.

Laney has not had the easiest time since she accidentally got knocked up her freshman year of college and the douchebag dad essentially skipped the scene. So seeing her and Rocco with such a great guy does things to my heart. It almost makes me wonder if that’s something I could want for myself. Almost.

But I have my condo and my various jobs and my flitting back and forth to Raleigh, not to mention Guilt to keep me company, so I’m good.

My phone vibrated on the coffee table next to my empty crystal flute, sending me reminders I’d need for the morning. This particular night of flitting to Raleigh was thankfully over and had ended just as I preferred—with a drink and the people I love. Celebratory champagne consumed and the night’s events adequately dissected, my parents and I doled out goodnight kisses and decided it was time for bed.

The thought of driving back to Greensboro so late was unappealing at best, and with the bubbly coursing through me, would have been idiotic. I am not the most responsible person on a good day—Guilt can attest—and I have a healthy respect for my own limits, so driving would just be begging for trouble. Instead, I crashed in my old bedroom. This happens often enough that I keep a small wardrobe and stash of beauty supplies at my parents’ house for just such times. I consulted my phone on the next day’s plans and slipped into my nightgown. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out.

Thank God for champagne.

Oh right, and for letting me be alive.

Can I go to sleep now, Guilt?

The Spark by Sylvie Stewart is available in e-book and paperback.

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Excerpt from The Lucky One





Chapter One: Hello, My Name Is Satan





BAILEY

“I swear his eyes are following me.”

“It is a little creepy, I’m not gonna lie,” said Mark, glancing over my shoulder.

A shiver ran down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.

Mark took in my expression—which I’m sure was one of intense revulsion—and laughed right in my face, his straight white teeth not even attempting to bite his tongue. This was entirely unsurprising.

Mark’s day is not complete unless he has tortured me in some way. He’s the twin brother I never had and certainly never wanted. I already have an older brother, but Mark somehow worked his way into my life and I can’t seem to get rid of him and his ridiculously bulky bod no matter how hard I try.

Still smiling at my pain, Mark shook his head and asked, “If he freaks you out so much, why the hell did you say yes?”

I glared at him, hands on my hips. “What in the hell was I supposed to do?! There were tears! Wet, sloppy tears!”

This did nothing to tame his smile. “You are such a fucking pushover,” he whispered in my ear before skirting around me and approaching the creepy son-of-a-bitch.

“Ha!” I declared as I turned around, completely forgetting to keep my gaze averted. “Shows how much you know. I talked the kid down from a puppy!” I was actually quite proud of myself, despite my lack of forethought.

Turns out I can’t stand lizards. Who knew? But the joyous expression on my nephew’s face and the complete cessation of all waterworks was my prize to revel in.

Totally worth it.

I’m sure I broke every babysitting rule in the book, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It looked like my brother and his new wife just got themselves a pet gecko.

Whoops.

“Okay, little man. Everything is all set up,” Mark said to a nearly-vibrating Rocco. “The light will keep him nice and warm, he’s got a good place to hide in that log, and your Aunt Bailey will show you how to feed him the crickets.” Mark’s smile turned evil as his eyes found me again.

What in God’s name had I been thinking? To be fair, I had assumed these crickets would be dead when the twelve-year-old sales associate had pushed his glasses up on his nose and mentioned we’d need to stock up. By the time I realized we would instead be bringing home a plastic container teeming with live insects, it was too late. Rocco, my adorable nephew, had fallen in love.

“Fist bump,” Mark requested of Rocco, whose attention was completely captured by his new pet. Rocco extended his little fist without letting his eyes stray from the tank. “Thanks, Mark.”