Eventually.
All with the help of Gigi and Beau—and their puppies.
Anyway, Gigi—who had quickly turned into my best friend—had insisted on staying back from their family Christmas.
To nurse me back to health.
I quickly refused.
Gigi was a terrific friend, and she’d help you with anything.
But she needed to be with her fiancé and his twin boys for Christmas.
They’d all been through enough drama to choke a horse and deserved some time away.
I’d appreciated my mom’s help.
And my brother’s help.
But so help me, God—those two got on my last nerve.
When I was well enough, sometimes I escaped up to Beau and Gigi’s place.
During my recovery, I’d watched every goddamn thing on TV.
Twice.
And all the movies I could handle.
Sitting on your ass was boring as shit, and I hated it.
One day at Gigi’s, I’d picked up one of her romance books.
And opened it up.
And devoured the entire damn thing in a few hours.
Who knew how awesome romance novels were?
Gigi thought my new love of books was fantastic.
Beau told me I’d turn into a chick if I kept reading them.
Little did he know that I actually learned a few new “tricks” for the bedroom.
Seriously.
And trust me, the one place I was the most confident—other than the ice—was the bedroom.
But, damn, I would have learned a whole lot faster if I’d been reading romance novels.
I’d raced through most of Gigi’s collection in no time flat.
Even armed with all that chick knowledge, Lexi still confused the shit out of me.
She was the exact opposite of the heroines in the books.
All of those women wanted the hero to marry them.