Unmanageable (In Vino Veritas #0) Read Online Leslie McAdam

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: In Vino Veritas Series by Leslie McAdam
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79644 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
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I’ve never been romantic. Just ask my ex-wife.
Since she broke up with me, I get my needs met any time I want, without putting my heart on the line. Exactly how I like it.
But when she is called overseas and leaves me with our child, my bachelor lifestyle ends faster than you can say, “Daddy, I want a pony.”
I need help.
Problem is, help’s come in the form of an incredibly hot nanny.
My employee.
Who is much younger than me.
And also … a guy.
I watch Scott care for my kid and can’t help feeling like he clicks into place in her life.
When he looks at me, though … I get an entirely different feeling. One that makes me long for things I can’t have.
Like him.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

1

SCOTT

I’m like a cat burglar … but the only thing I’m gonna steal is his heart.

Yeah, yeah, okay. That’s a cheesy line. But I revel in groan-worthy lines, and I’m not kidding about the cat burglar thing. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins as fast as the Winooski River spilling over a dam, and I’m feeling like a felon.

Probably because I’m, like, breaking and entering—or entering, anyhow. Edsel hasn’t given me a key, but he hides one under a fake rock by the porch. Easy peasy.

With my heart in my throat, I slip through the front entrance of his one-story house in the Old North End and shut the heavy door behind me.

While my current activities resemble a cat burglar’s, the similarities end quickly. I’m giving, not taking. Also, judging by Cary Grant in To Catch a Thief, cat burglars wear black from head to toe.

I’m about to get naked.

Setting down my reusable grocery bag of supplies, I survey the scene. My boyfriend’s living room is nicer than mine—most are—although it’s in a plain brick house not far from downtown. Nothing really special about it except the fact that he resides here.

But special is what you make of it. I just want to make him happy.

I flove surprising my boyfriend, and my tummy’s all aflutter thinking about the word boyfriend.

This is the longest relationship I’ve had in … ever. Sure, he’s spent most of it out of town on business trips and a volunteer search-and-rescue mission, but he’s coming back tonight and I’m going to show him exactly how much I missed him.

First things first. I get out the package of rose petals I bought at the Burlington florist. They were pricier than I expected, but he’s worth it.

Walking backward, I sprinkle a trail of petals down the short hallway to Edsel’s bedroom, like Hansel and Gretel on a mission from Cupid. After flinging handfuls on the bed as artistically as I can, I look around the room. It’s a tad messy, so I pick up his clothes from the floor. I examine a patterned shirt. Not sure I’ve seen him in this one before.

I shrug and throw it into the hamper.

Once the room is tidy, I survey the scene and clap my hands once. I’m amped and giddy and tempted to fling myself onto the bed and make rose petal snow angels.

Focus, Scott.

Carefully avoiding the flowers on the floor, I tiptoe back to the entrance, lock the front door, and grab the rest of my supplies.

A few moments later, champagne is chilling in an ice bucket, next to two flutes and these great chocolates imported from Napa.

Is it imported if it’s from the same country?

They’re a luxury, yes, but how else do I celebrate someone so special? That’s what credit cards are for.

Tapping my lip, I wonder if I should have gotten one of those chocolate fountains that you dip marshmallows in and then feed them to each other. And strawberries? But they’re out of season …

Candles! I pull them out of the bag, along with matches, and light them, then turn the bedroom lights off.

I check my phone. He’s supposed to be home any minute now.

One final thing.

Quickly, I strip down, folding my clothes and stacking them on the floor by the bed. Won’t be needing those any time soon, wink-wink. I may not be particularly buff, but I look good in it.

Then I fasten a silver glitter bow tie around my neck and arrange myself on the bed in the classic Burt Reynolds centerfold position: on my side with my head in my hand, showing off the tattoo on my hip. He said he likes my tattoo … he being Edsel, not Burt Reynolds.

I exhale and try not to fidget. Must not make rose petal snow angels, because strewn about, they’re so decorative.

Like me.

Music! I grab my phone and put on the romance playlist. “The Girl from Ipanema” starts up, and I hum, thinking about Brazil and warmth. But a chill comes over me. Vermont’s fall is nippy.

Well, if a boy is going to be nude, he may as well be comfortable. Trying not to disturb the floral display too much, I head to the thermostat in the hallway and adjust it.


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