To stay on the straight, and narrow.
Work my way toward getting onto the Olympic team.
Keep my head clear.
Because if there was one thing that Trey could do—it was cloud my head.
And my judgment.
For example—getting married in Vegas.
After only knowing each other for a few hours.
Somehow, he’d made it sound like the best idea in the entire world.
I still couldn’t believe we’d actually done it.
Yeah, he was probably too drunk to remember.
But, I did.
And yeah, we’d agreed to get a divorce, annulment, or whatever it was we needed.
That also didn’t mean I actually wanted one.
Gosh, I really did read too many romance novels.
Waking up married in Vegas had always been a favorite trope of mine.
Living it was way, way, way better.
Until you woke up.
Realized what the heck you both had done.
Also realized that your dad was likely going to murder you.
And then realized—after spending the next day—and the next—with the guy you’d worshipped and loved from afar for over an actual decade—that you really liked him.
Liked him, liked him.
And, no part of you wanted to separate yourself from any part of him.
But, you also knew it was the right thing to do.
Right?
It sure didn’t feel like it, though.
What I felt like doing was throwing myself into his arms and kissing the crap out of him.
I mean, the guy even loved the same romance novels I did.
Name me one man in the world who’d snuggle with you and read a brand new kissing book that just dropped?
Exactly.
Because there couldn’t possibly be another guy out there like Trey Turner.