PROLOGUE
COURTNEY
One day after the wedding…
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, lived a queen who ruled her own kingdom. She didn’t need a king beside her because she was confident, strong, and smart without one. She knew men only brought heartache, and there was no time for that, but if there ever was a man who could stand beside her, he’d be the strongest, smartest, most protective guy she could ever ask for. He’d be her best friend and The One.
…Excuse me while I drown in my own tears.
There is absolutely, positively no way a guy and a girl who live together as roommates could ever become anything more. I hoped it would, but after several clear-as-day hints, I’ve come to terms that just friends is all we’ll ever be. He doesn’t see me the way I see him.
And he was Drew Fisher. My best friend’s older brother. Cliché, I know.
I remembered the day I first met him. I’d nearly broken my face when I walked into a beam because my mind had stripped him of his cop uniform. He’s built like a rock, his chest and back are covered in ink, and his long strands of dark hair are just asking to be pulled. You can see his chiseled jaw under his nicely-trimmed beard, which gives my girl parts all kinds of weird tingly feelings—and don’t even get me started on the handcuffs in his duty belt. Every time I see them, I want to handcuff myself to him.
Okay, that might sound a bit over-the-top and maybe even obsessive, but I swear I’m not. Drew’s been my roommate for over a year; his sister, Viola, is my best friend, and just married his best friend, Travis. Not to mention, Travis is also my boss at King Marketing, where Drew stops by to bring me lunch every Friday. So, we’re linked together in more ways than one, and it’d be way too complicated anyway. I know this. I’ve reminded myself of this several dozen times.
But that doesn’t mean my heart has gotten the memo. I can’t help the way I feel for him, and I’ve tried dating other guys to get over the pathetic crush I have, but so far it hasn’t worked. Nothing has, so I just suffer in silence as I watch him give his heart to a girl who absolutely, positively does not deserve him in any way.
Mia Fucking Montgomery.
She’s the classic tall, skinny, dark-haired goddess who thinks she rules the world and everyone in it. I don’t get what Drew sees in her—okay, maybe I can—but too bad her attitude is as ugly as her botched boob job. He doesn’t see her for who she really is—conniving, manipulating, cheating, lying whore. I don’t typically shame other women for being outspoken and confident, but Mia is the exception, and I don’t even feel bad for hating her slimy guts.
All right, that might sound like jealousy and all considering I just admitted to having the biggest crush on one of my best friends, but those aren’t feelings of jealousy. Those are feelings of disdain. Take one look at Mia Montgomery, and you’d feel the same way.
Too bad Drew Fisher is blind as a fucking bat.
All feelings aside, I hate that she’s hurt him more times than I can count and that he’s taken her back every single time. He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met and gives more second chances than she deserves.
I can’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, one day he’ll open his eyes and see what’s been in front of him the entire time. I hate that he sees me as his sister’s best friend or the Southern redneck girl who prefers cowgirl boots over high heels or the loudmouthed one who yells at the TV during football season. I’m just one of the guys to him, and even though I’d rather be his friend than nothing at all, I can’t help that feeling of what if.
Coming to terms with the way things are between us comes to a complete halt the moment I wake up Sunday morning. Blurred flashbacks of the night before surface and I can’t tell if they were all a dream or if…
I peel my eyes open as the sun glares through the window. I hate that damn sun. And fuck that window, too. Jesus, I feel like I ran a 10k marathon last night. My feet are more than likely swollen from wearing those damn shoes Viola made the bridesmaids wear, and I can feel the pins jabbing into my skull from having my hair done. Being Viola’s maid of honor was a blast, but between the over-drinking and the too-tight shoes, I’ll be paying for it for at least a week.
It takes me a minute to clear my eyes and realize I’m not even in my own room. I’m in Drew’s room, which could only mean one thing.