I Want It That Way
Nadia Conrad has big dreams, and she's determined to make them come true.But between maintaining her college scholarship and working at the local day care to support herself, dating's the last thing on her mind. Then she moves into a new apartment and meets the taciturn yet irresistible guy in 1B…Daniel Tyler has grown up too fast. Becoming a single dad too young has turned his life upside down.Now, as he raises his four-year-old sonBut one night, Nadia's and Ty's paths cross, and soon they can't stay away from each other. The timing is all wrong-but love happens when it happens. And you can't know what you truly need until you stand to lose it…..Praise for Ann Aguirre'A tender, sweet, and sexy story about how life—and falling in love—can never be planned.'—Jennifer L. Armentrout, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Wait for You'I loved everything about this book… I just have two words: more please!'—New York Times bestselling author Cora Carmack on I Want It That Way
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Nadia Conrad has big dreams, and she’s determined to make them come true. But between maintaining her college scholarship and working at the local day care to support herself, dating’s the last thing on her mind. Then she moves into a new apartment and meets the taciturn yet irresistible guy in 1B….
Daniel Tyler has grown up too fast. Becoming a single dad at twenty turned his life upside down—and brought him heartache he can’t risk again. Now, as he raises his four-year-old son while balancing a full-time construction management job and night classes, the last thing he wants is noisy students living in the apartment upstairs. But one night, Nadia’s and Ty’s paths cross, and soon they can’t stay away from each other.
The timing is all wrong—but love happens when it happens. And you can’t know what you truly need until you stand to lose it.
For Leigh Bardugo,
who speaks of love as if it’s a question that must be answered. And so I tried.
There’s always a meet-cute, right?
The girl trips and the boy catches her, they’re stuck together on an elevator, or she leaves her phone behind in a bar and he returns it to her. Later, when people ask the inevitable question, “How did you meet?” the story unspools with the woman telling part of it and the man finishing, or vice versa, while everyone admires them for staying together. I don’t have a story like that, or at least, I have a story, but it’s mine alone, and there’s nobody finishing my sentences.
I want it that way.
Right?
The first time I saw Ty, I fell down the stairs and tore my pants.
A superstitious person might call that an omen. He had nothing to do with it, of course; that was just a quirk of timing. While Lauren and I struggled with the sofa, a guy I presumed to be a new neighbor came into the building. He had auburn hair, brown eyes and a strong jaw dusted with gold scruff. I’d always had a soft spot for gingers, probably a result of growing up on Harry Potter movies. He was also tall and lean with a sculpted, ascetic face, like an austere warrior who would be at home on the prow of a ship. Okay, it was possible I’d watched too many episodes of Vikings this week.
When he saw us wrangling such a heavy piece of furniture, he only sighed, stepped around the boxes cluttering the foyer and checked his mailbox. No greeting, no “welcome to the complex.” I was halfway up the stairs to the landing, heaving my end of the sofa, when my hands slipped and the couch bounced away. I lunged for it, missed and came tumbling after. Lauren jumped aside like it was a sled on the slalom track, so the brown plaid monstrosity thumped ahead of me back down to the floor. The couch just missed slamming into the wall; I wasn’t so lucky. In honor of moving day, I had on old comfy pants, and they’d been washed one too many times, judging by the audible rip as I bounced off the wall and landed at Lauren’s feet.
She pulled me up, eyes wide. “You okay?”
“Just bruises to pride and pelvis,” I mumbled.
She tilted her head at the workload awaiting us. “Maybe we should wait for the guys to get back from their beer run?”
I surveyed the mess we’d created in front of the entrance and just outside, conscious that we were inconveniencing our neighbors. “We can’t really leave things like this.”
“I’ll help you with the couch.” As greetings went, it wasn’t the warmest. Grumpy Ginger strode toward us, rolling up the sleeves on his dress shirt to reveal very nice forearms: lightly tanned and dusted with auburn hair, lean but strong with prominent wrist bones. His hands appealed to me just as much, long-fingered and elegant, without being overly manicured. You know, if you liked that sort of thing. I was bad at estimating ages, but he was probably out of school, judging by the business casual he had on.
Belatedly, I realized I’d been studying him for thirty seconds too long. “If you’re sure.”
“It’s fine. I’ll walk backward and guide it up.”
“Thanks,” Lauren put in. “We’d prefer not to commit soficular homicide our first day in the building.”
Since my back was to the wall, I escaped the ignominy of the new neighbor seeing my panda underpants. He slid by and hefted the sofa up a few stairs on his own. Lauren and I worked together, and it was much easier with him doing the heavy lifting up top. With a minimum of fuss, we maneuvered the couch up to the second floor, where GG paused.
