Cherry Picked
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Never ask your brother's best friend to... pick your cherry. When I asked Jack Wyatt to help me lose my pesky v-card, I didn't expect him to keel over in shocked disapproval and nearly tumble us down a mountain. You might think a guy who's been reading romance novels his whole life would've figured out a smoother way to broach the subject, but in my defense, I've been pining for Jack for seven long years, just waiting for him to notice me. Jack sees me as sweet, shy Hawk Sunday: his Pride and Prejudice-obsessed hiking buddy; his dependable employee; the honorary little brother he's determined ...
Never ask your brother's best friend to... pick your cherry. When I asked Jack Wyatt to help me lose my pesky v-card, I didn't expect him to keel over in shocked disapproval and nearly tumble us down a mountain. You might think a guy who's been reading romance novels his whole life would've figured out a smoother way to broach the subject, but in my defense, I've been pining for Jack for seven long years, just waiting for him to notice me. Jack sees me as sweet, shy Hawk Sunday: his Pride and Prejudice-obsessed hiking buddy; his dependable employee; the honorary little brother he's determined to protect, not...deflower. But to me, Jack is everything a romantic hero should be: tall, gorgeous, kind, and brilliant. Or at least I thought he was brilliant... until he started getting so many things so boneheadedly wrong. Like refusing to do the deflowering himself, but also, erm... blocking any other potential plant-lovers from getting all up in my garden. And like continuing to see me as someone who needs protecting, rather than a man who needs possessing... A man who's determined to get his cherry well and truly picked this summer, whether Jack Wyatt likes it or not.
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