Read My Mind (The One #3) - Natasha Preston Page 0,2
terrible, but we’re definitely on different pages of the Kama Sutra. I just want to be fucked, you know?”
Brody walks into the room and stops dead.
“If things are getting girl on girl—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Wren warns.
He walks past me and kisses her neck. “You know I don’t share.”
“Would you two fuck off?”
Brody pulls away from my friend’s neck. “I’m sorry, are we disturbing you in our house?”
“If you could be a little less happy, that would be great.”
Wren looks all doe-eyed, like she absolutely cannot be less happy.
I don’t want her to be, obviously.
“Ditch him, mate. Find someone who will fuck you until you can’t walk. Car needs a mechanic, by the way.” On that note, Brody kisses Wren, picks up his beer, and walks out.
I take another swig while Wren gives me an accusing look.
Brody might not be the most tactful, but he is right. I have to end things with Liam. We gave it six months to see if we can fix it. Six months later, nothing has changed. Not one thing. I can’t give it even one more week. I know what I have to do.
Two
Reid
It’s Tuesday morning, so I’m working from home, although I can barely concentrate on the manuscript in front of me—a new author’s novel that will no doubt set the literary world on fire. Right now, all I can focus on is Mila. Her black hair is tied up, exposing a very tempting neck. Long legs are wrapped up in some seriously tight jeans, and her over worn Ramones tee is tucked into the waistband.
She’s had my attention for a very long time.
My neighbour of nine years. I remember the day my family and I moved onto this street. I was pissed at having to move over forty miles away, leaving my friends behind, but the second we pulled up to the house, and she came to say hi, I knew I was done for.
One month later, when I saw her reading in the back of her mum’s car, refusing to get out until she’d finished the chapter, I knew I was going to fall in love. I was fifteen. She was twelve, too young, and so uninterested. I don’t think she said more than the odd passing ‘Hey’ since the first day we met. Besides those two evenings: the one in the bar with her friends last year… and one much before that. I doubt she could recall either.
She’s outside now, kicking the wheel of her ridiculous Volkswagen Beetle, as if that’s going to fix whatever the problem is.
Four years ago, my parents moved back home to the place they ripped me from. But I didn’t follow. I work for Wilson Press, a small publisher on the outskirts of the city, about twenty minutes from here. I love my job… and I love my neighbour.
If anyone asks why I didn’t move back to be near family, I tell them it’s due to work.
Mila scowls at the yellow car as Wren pulls up. I’ve seen Mila’s boyfriend in grease-covered overalls before, so I’m pretty sure he’s a mechanic. I don’t know why Mila called Wren instead of him.
Getting out of the car, Wren speaks to her for a second and then kicks the wheel in the same spot Mila did.
Really?
Shaking my head, I lower my eyes and try to focus on the words in front of me. This is a damn good book, and my notes are making it even better.
We’re on a tight deadline here, so I’m home for the two weeks before it needs to be back with the author, Leonard. He’s written three incredible thrillers. I’ve read all of them as first drafts, and Wilson Press bought his strongest. I know it’s going to do well, so I’m keen for us to buy more.
Mila would like it. I’ve seen her carrying horror and thrillers as well as romance. She has a battered copy of Stephen King’s The Shining that looks as if she’s read it a hundred times.
The thought of her pulls my attention back in her direction. I should have stayed at work.
The bonnet of the yellow bubble is up, with both of them looking inside as if the engine is going to tell them what’s wrong.
Jesus, I can’t watch this any longer.
I get up and make my way out of my office, which used to be the dining room when my parents owned it, and head outside.
My house isn’t directly opposite Mila’s—thank God, or I’d never