This book wouldnât have been written without the constant support of my family and friends. Thank you, all. Thanks especially to The Bootsquad for the encouragement and motivation to continue when it would be easier to play the Sims. Also to my BFF Lori who keeps telling me I canât quit writing because she needs more books. And finally, to everyone who asked me if Alex Kennedy was going to get his own book, this oneâs for all of you.
I could write without listening to music while I do it, but Iâm so glad I donât have to. This is a partial list of what was on my playlist for Naked. If you like the songs, please support the artists by purchasing their music.
Justin King, âReach Youâ; Kelly Clarkson, âMy Life Would Suck without Youâ; Lorna Vallings, âTasteâ; Hinder, âBetter Than Meâ; Staind, âEverything Changesâ; Sara Bareilles, âGravityâ; Tom Waits, âHope I Donât Fall in Love with You.â
âAlex doesnât like girls.â Patrick said this like a warning.
Iâd been staring at the man from the corner of my eye, framing him as part of the overall picture here at Patrickâs annual Chrismukkah party. Alex was prettier than the bunches of Martha Stewartâinspired poinsettias and twinkling fairy lights, but so were all the men here. Patrick had the hottest friends Iâd ever seen. Seriously, it was like a convention of hot men. After Patrickâs admonishment I looked Alex over again more closely, mostly just to jerk Patrickâs chain. He was so easy that way.
âIs that his name?â
Patrick gave a low snort of disapproval. âYes, thatâs his name.â
âAlex what?â
âKennedy,â Patrick said. âBut he doesnâtââ
âI heard you.â I pressed my lips to the rim of my wineglass, warming it. The rich, strong scent of red wine wafted under my nostrils. I could taste the aroma on the back of my tongue, but I didnât sip. âHe doesnât like girls, huh?â
Patrick pursed his mouth and crossed his arms. âNo. Jesus, Olivia, stop ogling his ass.â
I raised an eyebrow, mirroring Patrickâs earlier expression. An old habit and one I knew irritated the shit out of him. It seemed like that kind of night. âWhy do you invite me to your parties if itâs not to ogle menâs asses?â
Patrick huffed and puffed and frowned briefly before he mustâve remembered what that did to the lines around his mouth, and he forced his face to neutral smoothness. His gaze followed mine across the dining room and through the archway. Alex had his back to us, one arm on the mantelpiece of the living-room fireplace. He had a glass of Guinness. Heâd been holding it for as long as Iâd been watching, but I hadnât seen him drink from it even once.
âAnd you feel an especial need to point this out to meâ¦why?â I sipped more wine and stared him down.
Patrick shrugged. âJust thought Iâd make sure you knew.â
I looked around at the half-dozen men helping themselves to the buffet, and then through the arch to the living room where another dozen men chatted or danced or flirted. Ninety-nine percent of them were gay and the other one percent was thinking about it. âI think I know better than to expect to get laid at one of your parties, Patrick.â
Before I could comment further, a pair of thick, muscled arms gripped my waist from behind and a tight belly pressed along my back. âRun away with me and see how long it takes before he notices weâre gone,â said a deep voice directly into my ear.
I twisted, giving in to laughter at the tickling touch of a beard on my earlobe, and turned. âPatrick, you didnât tell me you were inviting Billy Dee Williams to your party! Oh, waitâ¦Billy Dee would never wear that sweater. Hey, Teddy.â
âGirl, donât you be making fun of this sweater. Mama McDonald sent me this sweater and her boy Patrick got one just like it.â Teddy dropped Patrick a wink. âDifference is, Iâm man enough to wear it.â
I got a hug, a squeeze, a kiss and a pat on the ass all within the span of seconds before Teddy moved on to provide the same for Patrick. Patrick, still pouting, swatted at the bigger man and pushed him away while Teddy laughed and swiped a hand over Patrickâs hair. Patrick scowled and smoothed his ruffled feathers, but allowed Teddy to kiss his cheek a moment later.
I gestured with my wineglass. âHeâs trying to tell me not to ogle an ass.â
âWhat? I thought we were all here to ogle menâs asses.â
Teddy shook his, I shook mine; we did The Bump and dissolved into the sort of laughter helped along by a liberal helping of holiday cheer. Patrick watched us with his arms crossed and eyebrow lifted. Then he shook his head.
âPardon me for trying to be a friend,â he said.
Patrick and I had been friends for a long time. Once, long ago, weâd been more than that. Patrick thought that gave him the right to be my aunt Nancy and I let him becauseâ¦well, because I loved him. And because there was never been too much love in my life to turn any small bit of it away.