It’s a full house, seemingly packed with giants, especially considering her office space is pretty tiny.
I stand back and watch as Sophie Blackmore approaches Miranda and leans in for a hug, the glamorous WAG the wife of another Steam player.
“Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Sophie gushes. “I started following you on Instagram a couple months ago and I love your stuff.”
We all know what happened a couple months ago and I shift uncomfortably, waiting for Sophie to keep talking.
“Bam and I just bought a new little lake cottage and I would love for you to come take a look at it—he said if it will keep me quiet, I can redo the entire thing.” She giggles, sipping from the champagne flute in her hand, a submerged raspberry kicking up bubbles.
“I would love that!” Miranda enthuses. “I’m actually really busy the next couple days, but I can make time for you next week?”
Damn right she’s busy—after the whole mess online with the tabloids, her business page blew up. Some people called her out of sheer curiosity, others just trolls to hassle her, but quite a few were legitimate clients who wanted to hire her for design work. She was off and running, never slowing down since. It won’t be long before her two employees turn into four, or six—maybe more?
My girlfriend is the fucking shit.
“Here is my number.” Sophie hands Miranda a business card. I can’t imagine what the hell is on it, because as far as I know, Bam Blackmore’s wife does not work outside the home.
“I’ll shoot you an email Monday morning,” Miranda promises, tucking the card away as Sophie saunters off to join her husband. She turns to me. “Oh my god, Noah, it’s happening. People want to hire me—I’m freaking out!” She squeals a little. Kisses me again on the cheek, eyes bright. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Yes you could have.”
But I know what she means: the remaining $50,000, I paid to buy out her entire baseball collection, that money enabled her to hire Kyle and Tanner. To pay her utilities and buy an actual desk—the one she really wanted, not the cheap one she had in her Amazon cart.
Stars shine in her eyes when she looks at me now, but I know it’s not from the money. “I love you.”
It’s because of that. Her arms wrap around my waist and she kisses the tip of my chin.
My lips part. “I…” A lump catches in my throat. I’ve never said the word love to anyone other than my parents. This will be the first time and I mean every fucking word of it. “I love you too.”
Miranda bites down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. “Let’s not get sappy in the middle of the room. We’ll embarrass ourselves and I’m trying to be professional.”
She pulls herself away. Straightens her long skirt. Tucks a few errant strands of hair behind her ear.
She’s perfection. Sassy, chaotic perfection. “I’m so proud of you.”
An air kiss and she disappears into the small crowd.
Then.
Claire stalks over, weaving her way through, steam practically rising from her ears. “Those buffoons pretending to bartend are making a mess! That big one just told Kyle he was cut off from life! They’re asinine—could you please go do something?”
“Tripp? That big one? Or Trace, the other big one?”
That gives her pause. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Yes.”
Miranda’s best friend scrunches up her nose. “Those are not their names.”
“One hand on the Bible.” I laugh.
“Well that explains a lot.”
“Aww, come on,” I tease, knowing she’s still single. “You don’t think either one of them are cute?”
Another eye roll and she crosses her arms. “Hard. Pass.”
The End
Mark your calendars for Buzz’s story next in Hard Fall releasing August 18t!
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About the Author
Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series and is best know for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced latte’s , historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.
For more information about Sara Ney and her books, visit:
Also by Sara Ney
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