Fearless by Abby Brooks (best romantic novels to read txt) 📕

a laugh about everything. I’d head out to check on Mom and Izzy while Evie nursed her hangover and everything would be hunky-dory. But the second I heard the water turn on upstairs, reality set in. What seemed like a cute idea in the early hours of the morning sounded massively ridiculous by the time Evie dragged herself out of bed, and I made a mad dash for the exit. There were better ways to come clean than by actually being in her house when she woke up.

Breaking and entering wasn’t cute. It didn’t make me endearing and eccentric. It made me an asshole. Funny how it took crawling through the leaves and dirt in my neighbor’s flowerbeds to have that epiphany.

Maybe Austin and Jude were right when they called me a stalker.

Once I was sure I’d made it out of view of her window, I stood and brushed the dirt from my jeans. The smart play would have been to scurry my sorry ass back home and forget this ever happened. But something…

…maybe a desire to see Evie in her underwear again…

…okay, definitely a desire to see Evie in her underwear again…

…but also the realization that I had to explain what just happened…

…had me crunching through her yard and up to the front door.

Three quick raps against the red paint plastered a smile the size of Texas on my face. The neighborly part of me wanted to make sure she was okay after a rough night and surprising morning. The red-blooded male part of me hoped her boob would be out again.

The door swung open. Evie’s jaw dropped and it slammed closed. “Oh God!” Her voice was muffled, and her boob was safely tucked away—under a mostly sheer white tank.

“Good morning,” I sang through the wood.

The door cracked open. “I am so sorry…I don’t…I mean…Did we have a meeting planned? Last night’s a little foggy.”

“Nope. I’m heading to get coffee and thought I’d check in and see if you wanted any.” I stifled a laugh as her shocked expression replayed through my mind. “But I can just come back later if you want.”

The door cracked open another fraction of an inch. Only Evie’s eyes, nose, and lips were visible. “I would love some coffee, if that’s not too much to ask. It’s been a morning. One that started with a fry glued to my cheek and ended with Alexander Prescott seeing me in my underwear.” She groaned and banged her head against the frame.

“I think we’re past the part where you address me with my full name. That’s what fans do and as far as I’m concerned, we’re friends. I think you can call me Lord and Master, Sir Alexander the Glorious, like everyone else.”

She snorted laughter. “How about just Alex?”

“Alex it is.” I stared into the one eye I could see through the crack in the door. “For the record, I didn’t see you naked. As far as I’m concerned, you’re fully clothed—in basically sheer fabric, but that’s semantics, right?”

Evie groaned again.

“I’ll be back with caffeine and genius nuggets.”

“And I’ll get dressed in as many layers as I can find and try to forget how embarrassed I am.”

“Seems fair.” I reached out a hand and the door cracked open a fraction more. Instead of shaking on it as I intended, Evie saluted me, surprising us both. With a long sigh, she closed the door and I headed first to Mom’s, then to Sweet Stuff to harass my sister, and finally to fulfill my promise of coffee. While I’d intended to come clean about being in Evie’s kitchen—I really did—the time hadn’t been right. She was too groggy, and that conversation deserved to happen face-to-face, not through a crack in the door. With her barely being able to look me in the eyes, I opted to wait.

A better time would present itself.

I’d tell her then.

Chapter Thirteen

Alex

Two hours later, Evie and I sat at the table in her kitchen. While I coaxed words out of my brain and onto the page, she inhaled coffee and nursed her hangover. She’d ditched the sheer tank and undies in favor of leggings and a long sweater that hung off one shoulder, with her hair pulled into a pile on top of her head. While the outfit wouldn’t unseat the one-boobed wonder as an all-time favorite, this one had its highpoints.

After an hour or two of quiet companionship she stood, stretching her arms overhead as she stared out the window. Her sweater lifted, giving me a view of a deliciously round ass that begged to have my hands all over it.

“For a world-famous writer,” she said through her yawn, “you spend more time staring than typing. I’m surprised.”

I yanked my gaze to her face as she turned around. “Genius takes time.”

“Whatever you say, Captain.” She saluted me for the second time that day, then gave me a sweet smile.

“Was that snark, dear Evie? Am I detecting sarcasm?” I closed my laptop and sat back. “That’s a bold move for a woman who answered the door in her underwear. Not the best way to start your first day on the job, though I’m fine to overlook it if you are.”

I said overlook. Not forget. The image of her standing in the kitchen with her boob out would fuel many a late-night fantasy.

Evie bobbed her head and hit me with a crooked smile. “I’m fine to never talk about it again.”

“And here I thought I’d bring it up every few days or so to keep it fresh in your mind.”

She covered her face with her hands, then peeked through her fingers. “I’d really rather you didn’t.”

This would have been the perfect time to bring up what happened that morning, or hell! Maybe even what happened last night…but I’d wasted enough time without making progress on my manuscript. It was a selfish decision not to tell her, but selfishness came with the Prescott Y chromosome. Making a mental promise to both of us that I’d never