Epilogue

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One Wild Weekend with Jagger

#14 One Wild Weekend with Series

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Lexi Hart is the pen name of a crazy Kiwi romance junkie who prefers to live in the heads of her characters than her own.

If you want to escape reality with me and love fast burn romances with a splattering of suspense, The One Wild Weekend Series is sure to satisfy.

For readers who enjoy a slower burn, and a whole lot more angst, I hope you’ll try my ongoing fake romance series, Bad For Me.

If you’d like to connect with me, sign up for my twice monthly newsletter (no spam, no random promoting of other authors books) so you can get all the VIP treatment, and we can get to know each other.

www.lexihartromance.com

Valentines' Day is about to get wild...

As an independent cyber security consultant, it’s my job to find gaps in security systems before the real hackers can get in.

I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am, and other than a teensy tiny problem of losing my temper with stupid people, I can generally handle whatever sh*t comes my way.

But one lousy blind date with a dick who’s holding a grudge, and I need to lay low until he cools off.

So, when an old friend calls me about a potential data breach at a wildlife reserve, I jump at the chance to help catch a poacher in Oregon.

Knowing there is security expert already on site should make my job easier not harder.

But Jagger is a former member of The Endangered Species Protection Agency and not only is he as badass as they come but he has a serious problem with my involvement.

I’m not about to make concessions for an ex-soldier with an axe to grind, but my reputation is on the line, so out of necessity I invite Jagger to talk strategy over dinner.

And if it were any other night than Valentines’, it would have been just a business meeting.

But one complimentary bottle of very nice wine from the sweet old restaurant manager, and my strategic meeting with Jagger winds up more than a little complicated.

And when we’re forced to spend the weekend in an isolated hut setting a trap for the poacher, complicated becomes dangerous...

Chapter 1.

Friday 10.13am

Stella

If there was a prize for the worst blind date, this one definitely should be a contender.

I stare at him, at his stupidly slick hair, his designer stubble, his flashy watch, unnatural tan, and too white teeth, and find myself thinking about jabbing him in the eye with the teaspoon on the table.

“Your biological clock is ticking though, right? Getting close to thirty, your options are running out,” he says.

I’m in a coffee shop, drinking mediocre coffee, and trying not to scowl as my date spews constant verbal diarrhea, all the while thinking about how to get my friend back for setting me up on a blind date with the grade-A asshat sitting opposite me.

He’s so oblivious, he just keeps on talking. “Most girls I know are getting desperate about now. I love having fun as much as the next guy, but it’s time to get serious and think about my future. And what girl I want to pick to be waiting at home for me.”

Pick? He actually thinks women are for him to pick and choose like we’re flowers?

As I mentally glare daggers at him, I drum my fingernails on the tabletop and wonder how on God’s green earth Meredith thought I’d like this douche bag.

She does have a warped sense of humor, so it’s possible she thought it would be funny, or she may have thought he’d be the guy to break the sexual dry spell I’m in, but either way, I will make her pay for this abomination of a blind date.

Standing at six feet, and good looking in an all-American boy-next-door, sort of way, Chad Atkins is a former athlete turned real estate broker who on paper could have been a good match.

Unfortunately, the second he opened his mouth the illusion was shattered.

Not only was he perplexed as to why I’m not married at twenty-eight, but he also can’t wrap his head around what I do for a living.

After trying to explain I’m not in IT, but in Cybersecurity, he looked so confused, I took pity on his tiny brain, and just let him think whatever he wanted.

As far as I’m concerned, the date is finished even if my coffee isn’t.

I exchange a look with the woman sitting at the next table who seems to have caught on that I’m in living hell.

Her face is pinched, and I’m sure I’ve heard her conversation stop several times as she tries in vain to not overhear Chad talking.

I should have known this was going to go poorly when he made a point of sitting underneath the photo of himself, probably hung on the wall a decade ago when he was at his prime.

When I look back at him, he’s scrutinizing my appearance on a level bordering creepy. “What are you? Like five-eight? Hundred twenty pounds?”

I arch an eyebrow. “And that’s relevant because?”

He shrugs. “I need to add it to the list.”

I know I’ll regret it, but I ask anyway. “The list?”

He bobs his head, making his blonde hair flop into his cool blue eyes. “Yeah, I’m currently ranking my dates. So far, you’re number two this week. But that could change.”

The woman next to us nearly chokes on her coffee and mutters to her girlfriend.

More and more heads are turning in our direction, and it’s not because he’s as famous as he thinks he is.

I’m so beyond done I just lean back in my chair and decide to mess with him a little. “Only number two, huh?”

He’s such a chauvinist, he doesn’t even recognize how insulting that is, he just nods, slowly, and answers as he checks out my cleavage for the third time in as many minutes.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t invest in women who have different priorities from me. You’re in shape, but you seem to work pretty long hours and you work for yourself in computers and shit. I’m not sure that fits with my ideal woman.”

The woman closest sucks in a breath of air, and I swear I feel every set of ovaries within earshot tense. “And what pray tell is your ideal woman?” I say.

He’s so clueless, he actually smiles warmly as though I’m speaking his language. “She looks a lot like you. But with less ambition. She’s a great cook, wears dresses, heels and she’s maybe ten pounds lighter than you are.”

My nostrils flare, and if he weren’t so utterly ridiculous, I might have been more offended.

But in my line of work, I’ve learned to deal with all kinds of people from paranoid celebrities to frustrated FBI agents.

There is no one I’ve met who I haven’t been able to pacify, or put in his place, and this guy, this itty bitty brained washed-up footballer is no exception.

Using every ounce of self-control I have, I lower my voice to a notch above a growl. “I wish I could live in your tiny little world in your simple little head where women are little more than decorations. Unfortunately, I’d have to shrink my brain to about a third of its current size and stop thinking altogether.”

I raise my hands as if truly dismayed. “And as deeply satisfying it would have been being the woman who cleans your toilet, cooks you dinner and sucks your tiny dick on demand, alas I have lofty ambitions that don’t meet your strict criteria.”

His eyes pop, but since I’m not done, I smile as sweetly as I can. “I strongly recommend you get neutered. It might not help your abysmal personality, but it sure as shit will stop you from polluting the gene pool any further.”

I reach forward and with a smile still locked on my face, I slowly tip the remains of my coffee all over his head. “Thanks for the reminder I’m better off alone,” I say.

He jumps to his feet, spluttering and going red in the face as his chair crashes to the ground.

Without a backward look at him or at the customers now staring slack-jawed at me, I stalk towards the front door.

“You crazy bitch! Don’t you know who I am?” he yells.

I turn and look over my shoulder at him. “I know exactly who and what you are, you dimwit. You’re everything that’s wrong with the world.”

I slide my sunglasses on and step outside as the women in the coffee shop erupt into applause.

***

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Author Bio

Lexi Hart is the pen name of a crazy Kiwi romance junkie who prefers to live in the heads of her characters than her own.

If you want to escape reality with me and love fast burn romances with a splattering of suspense, The One Wild Weekend Series is sure to satisfy.

For readers who enjoy a slower burn, and a whole lot more angst, I hope you’ll try my ongoing fake romance series, Bad For Me.