Falling For Raine
By Lane Hayes
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Excerpt
What in the hell was going on? It was as though I’d entered an alternative universe. Everything looked the same, but it was different.
Of course it was Raine.
I studied him shaking hands with everyone in the shop as I shrugged on my jacket. He was…hypnotic, addicting—a cross between an inappropriate dinner party guest and a fistful of forbidden sweets when you were on a diet. He didn’t fit in this world I’d carefully constructed, yet I kept inviting him in and forgetting whatever reason I’d concocted for this to make sense.
Like now.
“Perhaps you’d like to try something on.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch him.
He widened his eyes and sidled close, whispering under his breath, “Are you nuts? One shirt here costs half my rent. Unless…oh, no. Oh, no, no, no!”
“What?” I demanded, pulling him with me outside.
“Are you going daddy on me?”
“Excuse me?” I furrowed my brow, stopping under the eaves where rain sluiced off the roof and fell like a curtain around us on two sides.
“Slow your roll, G, I’m not looking for a meal ticket, and I’m not taking hand-outs. I can be talked into bedroom daddy kink, but if you want me to call you Daddy—”
“Oh, for f*ck’s sake, you daft man. I do not want you to call me Daddy,” I growled just as a well-dressed man stepped onto the mat next to me, pausing for a moment to close his umbrella and dart a quick look between us.
Raine pursed his lips, then burst into laughter when the man entered the shop. “Ha! You should see your face. I was kidding.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I huffed, my lips twitching.
“I’ll be good, Daddy. Don’t spank me.”
“Don’t test me.” I pretended not to notice him fanning himself with a slack-jawed expression as I gestured toward the pub on the next block. “If we stay under the eaves, we’ll stay dry, but we’ll have to hurry.”
“No need. I bet they sell umbrellas in there.”
I squinted at the tourist shop at the corner on the opposite side of the street, its windows papered with Union Jack memorabilia. “That’s crap, Ray-n.”
“So what? It’s fun crap. My treat.”
He sprinted into the deluge, dashing into the tourist shop while I stared after him. What was he doing? Now he’d be wet and stuck with a tatty tourist umbrella that would undoubtedly flip inside out at the first gust of wind.
A crack of thunder spurred me into action. I borrowed a sturdy umbrella from Ives and Harris with the promise to return it as soon as possible, then walked down the street to find Raine.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d managed to make a friend in under five minutes. He stood in front of a wall stuffed with tartan throws, holding two compact umbrellas and chatting up a salesman. It took a bit of persuading to convince him he didn’t need the blanket—however, I couldn’t talk him out of purchasing two Union Jack umbrellas. I warned him that they were poorly made, but he didn’t care.
We squabbled all the way to the pub, argued over what to order, who was paying, and where to sit before finally settling into a table for two at the window. I frowned when he beamed a sunshine smile my way.
“Stop being so happy,” I teased, cradling my glass. “It’s miserable out there.”
“But it’s warm and yummy in here,” he countered, sliding his calf along mine under the table. “And you’re cute when you’re cranky.”
“I am neither cute nor cranky. I’m—okay, never mind, I am cranky. If we’d come straight here, we could have avoided the queue and had that corner booth.” I pointed at the booth currently inhabited by a gaggle of noisy businessmen. “Do you ever listen to reason?”
“Have you met me?”
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About the Author
Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. She loves wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and her fabulous pup, George.
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