The Morgan Brothers

The first time I laid eyes on Lydia Decker, I couldn’t speak. Or breathe. Or string two coherent thoughts together. And I don’t mean any of that figuratively. No, when I first laid eyes on Lydia Decker - my physical therapist - I was lying flat on my back in the ICU, high as a kite on painkillers, breathing on a ventilator, my bones as broken and splintered as my spirit. She said she’d been assigned to fix me. But what I didn’t know...what I couldn’t possibly know...was that Lydia Decker needed fixing far more than I ever did.

It wasn't the way this kind of story was supposed to go...insta-love isn't supposed to turn into insta-hate. But that's exactly what happened when the dreamboat I met in a bar turned out to be a lying, cheating scumbag looking for nothing but a little side action. And he has the nerve to call me a liar and a "sociopath"? Asshole. And now, three months later, it turns out my boss is marrying his sister in Hawaii and I've got to play nice with him for an entire freaking week.

Keane Morgan wouldn't return any of my calls or texts, and I was pissed as hell about it. I didn't want to drive from Seattle to L.A. with the guy any more than he wanted to drive with me, but I had no frickin' choice in the matter - at least, not if I wanted to use his brother Dax's coveted parking spot at UCLA. Okay, so it turned out Keane was objectively gorgeous, and, fine, pretty funny, too. But did he have to be so damned in love with himself? I mean, jeez, the cocky way he flashed those dimples was just so orchestrated.

“I’m hiring you to do more than guard her, Zander,” my new boss explained. “You’re gonna be her rock. Her human Valium. Her trusted friend. And she’s gonna be your mission from God.” “So I’m her babysitter?” “Her babysitter, her bodyguard, her f--king service doggie. Whatever she needs or wants, that’s what you’ll be. Anything except her booty call.” The vein in my new boss’s neck bulged. “Touch her and I’ll do more than fire your ass, Zander. I’ll rip off your balls.” My buddies laughed when I told them about my ridiculous new job. 

It was lyrics at first sight when I saw Violet Rhodes across that crowded party. She was lights and darks, swirled together. Music in motion. And all of it while looking like a hitwoman at an Elvis convention. I had nothing to offer the intriguing girl but a one-night stand. I figured I’d revel in my last night of anonymity before my first tour and shoot her a quick “we’ll always have LA!” good-bye the next morning. But nothing went according to plan.