You Can Have Manhattan Read online P. Dangelico

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
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“Mr. Sutter,” my drunk wife drawled in return as Ryan ambled closer. “Likewise.”

I leveled the bulk of my annoyance at my best friend. “Are you done? She’s drunk and I need to get her home.”

Ryan’s hands went up. “Just wanted to tell you that we’re taking off. See you tomorrow.” He winked at Sydney and left.

Sydney’s attention was back on me, where I liked it. Reaching over, I plucked something out of her hair and inspected it. Dirt. Which prompted me to examine the rest of her clothes. The tight black jeans that hugged her athletic legs were covered with it as well. Without thought, I brushed some away on the inside of her thigh and heard her breath catch. Our eyes met and the tension expanded. It seemed to have a life of its own.

I hadn’t anticipated attraction. Yes, I’d felt desire for her all those years ago. But back then I could have said that about any number of women. This, whatever it was that was going on between us, was different. Now my brain controlled my actions instead of my balls. Which was why I couldn’t understand the strong visceral reaction I was having to a woman I should’ve despised for upending my life.

“I’m taking you home.”

She didn’t argue. In easy compliance, she slid off the stool and waved at Tony. Taking her hand in mine, I dragged her out of the bar before Randy could start in again. Two minutes later, we stood in front of my mud-covered ATV quad.

“In this?” I had to ask. I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed or worried about her reasoning skills. “This is how you got here?”

She smiled at me again, all proud of herself. “That’s how I got here.”

Damn, she was cute when she was drunk.

Chapter Ten

Scott

The drive back to the ranch was torture in more ways than one. First and foremost, my jeans were feeling more than a little snug. Second, I was shook. The further we drove the more I thought about her late-night excursion and the million terrible things that could’ve happened to her while I was busy congratulating myself. And the more I thought about it the worse my mood got.

“What you did was dangerous and stupid.” I didn’t have it in me to finesse it. And yeah, when the hell did I start sounding like my mother? “I have another pickup you can drive. I don’t want you walking, running, or riding anything off this property.” Her eyes were closed, a soft smile shaped her lips. “Syd? You hear me?”

“You didn’t seem to be worried the last few weeks.” She lowered the window and tipped her head back, the cold December air whipping her hair in every direction.

Where was the woman who had arrived in Jackson Hole without a hair out of place? Where had the ice princess gone? She looked laid-back and carefree. She looked like she belonged here. I’d done everything to make her miserable enough to beg for an annulment and she hadn’t. Every attempt I’d made to make her as uncomfortable as possible had blown up in my face. Trying to convince her to call it off sure as shit hadn’t worked. All I’d accomplished was to put her life in danger. Shame washed over me and held my head under until I was choking on it.

“Have you been out in that ATV before tonight?”

“No…tonight was a first. I finally hit my quota of boredom. But rest easy, I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m off your hands for a couple of weeks.”

I hadn’t realized it was time for her to headed back to New York. Probably a good thing. We needed to cool it, stick all the hot feelings growing between us in a freezer. At least I did. Maybe when she returned, we could work out a compromise. It wasn’t her fault I was attracted to her.

“Look––”

“It’s okay, Scott,” she was quick to interrupt. “I told you I wouldn’t interfere with your social life and I meant it.” She started humming a vaguely familiar song. It took me a while, but when the chorus hit, I recognized it was Tears of a Clown.

“You’re humming again.”

“Am I?”

The woman had a weird obsession with clowns.

I stole another glance at her. Slouched on the Ford’s bench seat, long legs parted with her face tipped back, her fingers tapped on the door handle. She wasn’t classically beautiful and that made her all the more compelling. Her lips weren’t full, the bridge of her nose was a little bit wide, and she had a soft cleft in her chin. Still, it all came together to make her more than beautiful. She was so damn attractive she made me want to stop and stare, to discover what else I’d missed.

She turned to face me, and a lazy content smile spread across her face.


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