Page 20 of Book Boyfriends
“Help her. Help Georgia find her happy ending,” Lord James says. “It was almost a prayer that one would chant in church. Something inside me commanded me to come to you. To find you. To help you.”
“Who sent you? And how? And why?” I practically whine my questions.
“We don’t know.” He motions between himself and the other men.
“How are you not freaking out about that?”
“I don’t know.” Owen rubs his nape. “Being here, being near you feels like...”
“Like coming back to home base after a hunt,” Lars adds.
Somehow, I get what he’s saying. I created these three men, so it makes sense they’d feel a connection. As surreal as this is, something tugs inside me; I’m tied to these men. Whether it’s because I’m the author of their stories, or for another reason, I don’t know.
“So, you hear a mystery voice telling you to come to me, and you just listen?” I arch one eyebrow.
“Yes,” Lars says.
“Just like that?” I scoff.
“I’d never ignore a cry for help,” he murmurs.
A cry for help? It was less a cry and more a plea, but wasn’t that what I wished for? I wished for my happy ending, and less than twenty-four hours later, these three…poof…just magically appear.
His earnest smile turns wolfish. “It’s likeField of Dreams, only we get you instead of a baseball field.” His voice drops almost unnaturally deeper, causing a tingle to pulse between my legs. “If your happy ending requires a homerun, then I’m ready to play?—”
“Bad dog.” Lord James swats the back of Lars’s head.
“I warned you!” He whirls, his large fists balled and teeth bared.
Lord James steps up, his mouth curled into a sardonic grin. “It may be time to put the dog outside.”
Stepping between them, Owen pushes them apart. “Enough, you two.”
I wag my finger. “Let’s set some rules. No smelling me. No flirting. No sexually propositioning me. No fighting. No derogatory anti-werewolf comments. Agreed?”
“Agreed. Right,fellas?” Brow puckered, Owen looks between Lars and Lord James, scowls painted across both their faces.
“Of course, my lady.” His expression softens and Lord James places his hand on his chest then offers a quick dip of his head.
“Fine.” Lars crosses his arms over his broad chest, his thick black eyebrows almost kiss in frustration.
Note to self; no more alpha male characters.Sighing, I rub my temples. While I hope there isn’t an influx of more book characters appearing in my apartment, I should do future Georgia a solid. My unshakable case of writer’s block may save me from that worry. There’s no reason to fear fictional characters coming to life if I’m unable to write them.
“Somethingtold you to come help me. How’d you end up here? You were in Sugarville, the Pacific Northwest, and the English countryside.” I point the bat at each man.
Owen rakes his fingers into his short hair. “I’m not sure. I closed my eyes, said your name, and suddenly I was in your kitchen.”
Lars nods. “Same. One minute I was looking out my window, and the next I’m leaning againstyourwindowsill.”
“I was sitting on the settee in my library and then on yours.” Lord James tips his head toward the pink sofa in the living room.
“We all appeared simultaneously and put what we knew together. After seeing the pictures of you on the walls”—Owen points to the photos of me with my brothers, mom, and Hope that cover the living room walls—“we knew that you’d brought us here.”
His words cause me to stiffen. “I didn’t bring…”
But hadn’t I?The thought steals my protest. The vision that pulled them out of their story and into mine was of me immediately after I’d tossed that penny into the fountain.
“My wish.” I lower the bat to my sides, my lips trembling. “I didn’t mean to…”
