Page 39 of Bottle Shock
“I am,” I say. “I’m actually waiting for my wife to get here so we can do the walk-through together.”
Maggie’s eyes light up, and Carl’s grin widens.
“Oh, how wonderful,” she says, exchanging a glance with her husband. “You two will have to see the view from the primary—it’s breathtaking.”
“She loved the pictures online. I’m sure she’ll love it even more in person.” It’s not a total lie—Scottie did say she liked the house. “Honestly, I’m mostly looking for something for my daughter. Somewhere she can be a kid and run around. Spend summers, holidays. Be out in the fresh air and off devices.”
Maggie’s expression turns wistful, and I know I’ve said the right thing.
“That’s lovely,” she says softly. “We raised our family here. We were hoping to pass it down, but our kids travels a lot for work and aren’t ready for that kind of responsibility.”
Before I can say anything else, Carl’s phone rings. “It’s Andy,” he tells Maggie, glancing at the screen.
They both excuse themselves with quick, apologetic smiles.
“It was so nice meeting you,” Maggie says.
I nod, watching them head toward the dock. The guilt I should be feeling is swallowed up by how easily the lie slipped out of me—which is a whole other thing to unpack. Instead of dwelling on it, my phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me back.
Scottie
Be there in a minute.
By the time I make it back around to the front, a white sedan is pulling up the drive.
Scottie steps out wearing a form-fitting navy dress that hits right above the knee, a small slit running up one side. It hugs her curves in a way that has my mouth watering. Her heels only make it worse—emphasizing her long, creamy legs. She looks so fucking gorgeous.
Normally, she dresses a little more eccentric—bright colors, fun patterns—but it’s obvious she wanted to play the part today.
I can’t help but smile, imagining her rifling through her clothes, trying on different outfits until she found this one and decided it fit the role.
I’m so caught up watching her strut toward the house—the subtle sway of her hips, the sexy confidence in her stride—that I almost forget the predicament I’ve landed us in. She’s seconds away from introducing herself to the listing agent and unraveling the whole thing before I’ve even gotten a chance.
The listing agent greets her warmly, and I see Scottie reaching for a handshake, smiling, oblivious.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m moving—past the lawn, across the gravel, closing in on her before she can speak.
“Hey—” she starts, turning toward me, but I don’t let her finish.
I cup the side of her face and kiss her.
CHAPTER 11
Scottie
I’LL PLAY
It shouldn’t feel this natural.
I was caught off guard. I was unprepared. It’s Gavin, for crying out loud!
But holy hell, I think I might melt on the spot.
His lips are soft as they move against mine, in complete contrast to the way his large hand is firmly gripping my waist. His other hand slides along my jaw, cupping it possessively, and I swear I feel it all the way down my spine. A small sound crawls up my throat—a soft, helpless noise—and I can’t decide if it’s my undoing or his. One second the kiss is slow and the next I’m being properly claimed. Devoured. Consumed. Absolutely ruined. His tongue meets mine, stroking against it like he’s coaxing me to go down the deep end with him. I’d let him fucking drown me if it meant he’d never stop.
Our bodies press closer, and the pull between us is magnetic—so strong it overrides reason. The urge to grind against him, to feel every delicious inch, has my hips moving before I even realize it. The second I do, he pulls back, his eyes locking on mine—shock and want colliding in the spacebetween us. I feel drunk or drugged or both. My pulse is everywhere—my wrists, my throat, my lips.
“Uh,” I say, blinking up at him, his hands still holding me in place. “Hi?”
