Chapter one:

Brielle was happy for Todd and Amy.

It didn't matter that her own love life was currently in shambles. It didn't matter that her heart had been ripped out of her chest and crushed into the ground only a few hours earlier. No, none of that mattered because two of her good friends were in love and getting married at that very moment.

So, even though she had the day from hell—having come home to find out that her boyfriend had been cheating on her with her next door neighbor (the good-for-nothing "may I borrow a cup of sugar" backstabber that she was)— Brielle was happy, dammit.

At least, that's what she was telling herself.

She signaled the bartender, and he dutifully and wordlessly picked up a bottle of tequila to fill the empty shot glass in front of her. And Brielle would have continued to drown her sorrows in said shot glass had it not been for the sudden appearance of her best friend at her side.

"You look like someone pissed in your coffee." Emily stated bluntly, her English accent coloring the sentence.

"Considering I'm not drinking coffee at the moment, I don't see how that statement makes any sense." Brielle said snippily, choosing to be purposefully obtuse.

Emily, unfazed and undeterred by her best friend's nastiness, signaled the bartender and sat down. She sniggered, "Well, someone's a bit testy. What's the matter with you?"

"Kevin is a douche-bag." Brielle stated, as though that was enough explanation for everything, before downing her shot with a slight wince.

"Well, I could have told you that one, love. What's he done now?" The bartender chose that moment to mosey over to them and Brielle gave a nod when he gestured at her glass, silently asking if she wanted another.

She waited until he filled her shot glass and poured Emily her own cocktail before answering. "He cheated on me."

Clearly the last thing she had expected to hear come out of Brielle's lips, Emily let out a gasp of shock. "That little git!"

"I prefer douche-bag, but I suppose that works too." Brielle said and swallowed her shot. She ran a hand through her long auburn hair. At Emily's insistence, Brielle began to recount the whole hideous encounter. By the time she had finished, she felt like she needed about ten more shots to calm her nerves.

"I know you don't want to hear this right now, but you're better off. You deserve better than a slimy weasel like Kevin." Emily seethed.

Brielle knew she was right. Kevin wasn't right for her and she had known it for a long time. But it didn't change the fact that she felt utterly betrayed and hurt at the moment. Was she not good enough or something? Brielle felt sadness begin to overwhelm her, but Emily—as though sensing her friend's thoughts— cut her off before it could spread.

"You know what you need? A good romp to get your mind off of things." Brielle rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm serious. You need to take your mind off of things tonight. All you issues will still be there tomorrow. Tonight? Tonight should be a night to forget it all."

Brielle pursed her lips. Maybe Emily was right.

Emily gestured toward the crowd of people behind them. "It's a wedding for god's sake. I mean, look at all these mates just waiting to be picked up."

Normally Brielle would have brushed Emily's brazen suggestion off without a second thought. Maybe it was the events from the day catching up to her or maybe it was the warmth of the alcohol she could feel coursing through her body that made her actually stop and consider it. Brielle was tired of being the responsible one. She could use a night of meaningless, mind-numbing sex to help her forget about it.

She let out a long breath. "You know what? You're right. Maybe I do need some meaningless fling to take my mind of things. If guys can do it, why can't I?"

Emily slapped a hand on the bar. "That's the spirit. Now, who's going to be the lucky bloke?"

Brielle scanned the reception hall, looking for someone she didn't know and who wasn't already hitched to a woman's side. Nearly every man was either taken or an acquaintance of some sort. Brielle sighed. What was today, crush-Brielle's-every-hope-and-dream day? She wondered. Before she could voice that very opinion to Emily, she paused upon encountering a set of familiar green irises. And of course, as luck would have it, it was one of last people she wanted to see at the moment.

Logan Steele.

If there was one person who could effectively get under her skin, even on one of her best days, it was Logan. They had known each other since her freshman year of college. He had been best friends with her brother. They were both two years older than she was, but the two of them combined had the maturity of a fifteen year old boy.

The first sign of a mutual hatred was when they had gotten into a verbal sparring match over said maturity level in front of the entire house party they had been attending. He had deemed her the title of "ice bitch," which had stuck throughout her entire undergraduate career. In return, she had coined him a "man-slut," and the rest is what they call history. From then on, they had been mortal enemies.

However, despite their dislike for each other, they had continued to keep the same circle of friends—Todd and Amy being two of them—and hadn't really been able to effectively avoid each other because of it.

"Ugh," Brielle groaned, "Can this day get any worse?"

Emily, confused, followed the direction of Brielle's gaze and zeroed in on Logan. Emily knew of their intense dislike for one another. She had been there for many of the arguments. Emily smirked. "Jackpot. What's better than hot, angry sex, eh?" She asked jokingly.

Brielle glared. "Don't make me throw up."

Emily put her hands up. "I'm just saying, there's no doubt in my mind he could get the uh—job—done, so to say."

Brielle signaled the bartender. "I need another shot."

Emily sniggered. Clearly, the subject was closed.


Logan had had his fair share of bad days in his twenty six years on this earth. But today was particularly rotten—the kind of day where you just want to say "screw it all" and climb back into bed, or into a bottle of whiskey depending on your mindset. Currently, Logan would have preferred the latter.

But instead of becoming properly reacquainted with his long lost friend Jack Daniels, Logan stood in the middle of a reception hall dressed in a suit and tie and feeling particularly surly as he settled on a snifter of Jack rather than the whole bottle. Work had been a nightmare; he had lost a huge account with one of the biggest graphic design companies in the area. Not only had it officially cost him his bonus for the year, but it had also made him look like a fool in front of the board when in reality it wasn't even his fault. If it was one thing Logan hated, it was lazy people. And he had lost the account simply because one of the people on his team had been lazy.

So needless to say, he wasn't the happiest person on the planet at the moment. But Todd and Amy were old friends from college and he wanted to be there to support them. And there was an open bar. Planning on drowning his anger in copious amounts of alcohol, he downed the rest of his drink and began to head in the direction of the bar.

Feeling a prickling sensation, Logan glanced up to see he was currently the subject of what looked like a heated discussion. Normally, he wouldn't care. But the sight of the conversations participants had him pausing. Brielle and Emily were stark contrasts as they sat next to each other.

Both were beautiful in their own way, but two people couldn't have possessed more different styles if they tried. Emily, with her thin, almost lanky, frame, wore a chick pixie cut—her ebony hair sticking up in spikes in the back. Logan knew she possessed a high, heavily colored English accent that betrayed her years of living in London. She wore a halter necked dress, the color of ripe peaches. The dress style exposed much of her skin, showcasing the various tattoos that covered her body—from her wrists to the back of her neck. Emily and Logan had gotten along for the most part. In fact, she was a fun person to hang out with—a hell of a party girl, he remembered clearly from college. No, he had never really had a problem with her.

It was her choice of best friend that was questionable. Logan's eyes sidled over to the woman sitting next to her.

Brielle McKenna.

Her long auburn hair tickled her exposed shoulder blades, the ends skimming the square neckline of the little black dress she wore. She caught him looking at her, and instantly swiveled back around in her chair so her back faced him. He watched as she said something to Emily in what he knew would be that soft, slightly raspy voice of hers. She had a voice that dripped sex. It was probably one of the most attractive things about her—not that he would every let her hear him say that. An annoyed look had colored her smoky hazel eyes, and Logan watched as she downed the shot that sat in front of her. There was no doubt that Brielle was an absolutely stunning woman, but then she always had been. Years had done nothing but compliment her sharp, yet delicate, features.

But while there was no doubt that he found her attractive, there was also no doubt that she was in need of a serious attitude adjustment. Either way, he refused to let her keep him away from his much needed drink. He made his way over to the bar, and standing next to the brunette in question, signaled for the bartender.

"Hello, Logan," Emily offered.

"Emily. You look gorgeous as usual."

She flashed him a smile. "Well, you don't look so shabby yourself. Dress clothes agree with you."

Before she could stop herself, Brielle gave a nasty snort.

He raised an eyebrow. "Have something stuck up your nose, Brie?" he asked, referring to her unladylike snort. He snapped his fingers, as though he had just figured something out. "Now, that would explain why it's always pointed in the air."

She rolled her eyes. "Go away, Steele. I am not in the mood to deal with you today."

The bartender placed a beer in front of him and he laughed. "The fact that you assume I'm coming over here to talk to you proves how self-absorbed you are."

Emily rolled her eyes. "And that, my friends, is my queue to leave. Try not to tear each other completely to shreds."

Brielle watched as Emily walked over to a man who slightly resembled a lost puppy, and immediately struck up a conversation. Brie turned her attention back to the person in front of her, narrowing her eyes at his comment. "Why else would you come over here then?"

"If you haven't noticed, you're sitting at a bar; where they serve alcohol. Something that is much more interesting and satisfying than you are."

She knew that it wasn't an intentional dig—because, really, how could he possible know about Kevin?—and that she was probably being irrational, but her highly alcohol flooded brain assumed otherwise, and her mind flashed to Kevin. Clearly he felt she wasn't satisfying either. Feeling emotional, and not wanting Logan to think he had any effect on her, she glared.

"Piss off," She sneered before storming off toward the ladies room.

Not sure what he said this time, Logan held his beer up in salute as he watched her stalk off. "Cheers to you too."


Brie spent the rest of the night working hard to get stupendously wasted. She took shot after shot of tequila—some with Emily there for support, but most on her own. Her face felt flushed and she knew if she didn't take a breather, she would be passed out on top of the bar any minute and poor Emily would have to haul her ass home.

Picking up her purse, and yelling to Emily over the music that was now blasting that she would be back, she walked outside to get some air. She leaned against the brick wall of the reception hall and let out a long sigh. People were filtering in and out of the hall to smoke or chatter in small groups. The cool air against her cheeks helped, but the tequila had done its job; Brielle was definitely drunk. Just as she had convinced herself to take her drunk ass home, Logan stumbled out of the hall.

She watched as he tipped the beer bottle back and swallowed what was left of the contents in one gulp. It looked like she wasn't the only one who was working on getting shitfaced. Briefly, she wondered what was wrong with him. He glared into the empty neck of the bottle, before chucking it in the trash can next to the door. He had yet to notice she was standing there. Brielle wasn't sure why she did it. She should have just let him go back inside without saying a word to alert him of her presence. It must have been the alcohol because the words popped out before she could stop them.

"Trouble in paradise?"

He turned and focused slightly glassy eyes on her. His eyes narrowed at her tone. "What is it about you? Do you have a stick permanently jammed up your ass or something? Or are you just naturally an ice bitch?"

She glowered. "You bring it out in me."

"I'm honored."

"So what's your problem?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you out here drinking instead of flirting with every girl in creation as usual."

He rolled his eyes. "I had a shit day."

She scoffed. "Bet mine was worse."

"Doubt it."

She crossed her arms. "Try me."

He raised an eyebrow. "I just lost ten thousand dollars because someone on my team at work was a lazy asshole."

She raised an eyebrow back. "I walked in on my boyfriend having sex with my next door neighbor."

"Walked in on?"

"Yup," she let the p pop at the end. "Mid throes and all."

He considered for a minute and then nodded. "Okay," he consented, "you win. Did you punch him in the face?"

She laughed. "No. I should have." She ran a hand through her hair, "Somehow it must have slipped my mind."

He didn't respond, but merely leaned back against the wall next to her. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Brielle found herself looking at him—really looking at his features for the first time. He really was an attractive man. His brown hair had that messy just-out-of-bed look and he had slight stubble on his face that hinted at a five o'clock shadow. His jaw was strong and angular and his nose perfectly straight. If Brielle was honest, he had perfect features; the type you would see on a magazine cover. The rest of him followed suit; he was a tall man and had a build that hinted at muscle but wasn't overly so. He was the type that screamed of sex. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was picturing him in ways she'd never imagine she would.

Definitely the alcohol, Brie confirmed. But she couldn't stop herself.

Logan opened his eyes and caught the look she was giving him. To his shock, lust curled in his belly. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol but if anything it made her look sexier. His eyes tracked down to her full bottom lip and, as if on cue, she pulled her lip into her mouth. There was no doubt of the attraction that pulled at her belly.

Brielle considered the events of her day. It was pretty screwed up—more screwed up than wanted to deal with. So what the hell? Why not do what she wanted for once.

She cocked her head to the side. "Do you want to get out of here?"

His green eyes flashed up to her hazel ones, understanding exactly what she meant.

And before they knew it, and to both of their surprise, they left the place together.


Logan couldn't believe this was actually happening. If someone would have told him this morning that he would be groping Brielle McKenna, he would have laughed in their face. But there he was, the beautiful auburn haired woman pressed up against him, as they fought to make it down the hallway to his apartment door.

Thought quickly fled from his brain as she nipped at his earlobe. He pushed her against the wall next to his door, balancing her there as his lips attacked hers. Brielle pushed her hands into his soft brown hair, pulling him closer to her. His hands slid from her tiny waist, down to her thighs, slowly pushing the hemline of her dress higher. She moaned into his mouth when he gripped her thighs and lifted her so that her legs were wrapped around his waist. His hands moved back up her thighs, pushing the dress upward until his hands rested on the curves of her hips.

He pulled away slightly, the haze lifting slightly from his mind, as he realized they were still in the hallway outside his door. "We need to get inside," he said with insistence.

She nodded slowly, "uh-uh," but began nipping slightly at his neck seemingly with no intention of moving any time soon.

He moaned. "Brie… keys, I need my keys."

She sighed, but instead of pulling back from him to let him reach into his pocket, she slid her own hand down—across his abs, which twitched through his dress shirt in response—and into his front pocket. His breath hitched. "Ah—that's not my keys."

She chuckled. "Whoops." Before he could retaliate, she pulled his ring of keys out, and he took them quickly.

Holding her up with one hand, and trying desperately to ignore the things she was doing to his ear, he unlocked the door quickly. Once they were inside, he pushed her against the door once again.

"This is crazy," Brielle breathed as he rained kisses down the side of her neck.

He nipped lightly at her collarbone. "Crazy is good."

She pulled back, her eyes locking on his green ones. "It's about to get better than good."

A slow smile spread across his mouth. "Baby, you have no idea…"

And then he proved it.


Five weeks later…

Things had started to look up since Todd and Amy's wedding a few weeks ago. Brielle was starting to feel like she was finally restoring a sense of normalcy in her life again. She had decided to put her love life on ice for a while, and instead focus on her career. And things had been progressing nicely.

She had pushed Kevin far from her mind. In fact, she had pushed the thought of all men as far from her mind as possible. Including a certain green-eyed man. Both she and Logan had agreed to never speak of what had transpired between them, and for that Brielle was grateful. It was a moment of temporary insanity. No matter how incredible it had been, it was best to pretend it had never happened. She hadn't seen or heard from Logan since that night, and she hadn't breathed a word about it to anyone—not even Emily. And she planned on keeping it that way.

Brielle sipped from the ginger-ale in front of her. Her stomach had been upset for the past few days and nothing she did seemed to soothe it. If it didn't go away, she was going to have to call a doctor. Ugh, Brielle hated doctors. But she couldn't seem to shake the nauseousness that ailed her. Brie brushed some papers that were scattered on her desk aside, exposing the large desktop calendar. She froze as a thought occurred to her.

Brielle stared at the calendar and a shock ran through her system. That couldn't be right… could it? She did the math in her head again. Her face paled. She picked her phone up and scrolled through her contacts until she found the name she wanted. She typed out a quick text.

Houston, I think we have a problem. - Brie

The response was instantaneous.

I'll bring the wine. Your place or mine? Xo Em

Brielle typed back quickly, making sure her boss was nowhere in sight.

Mine. I'll meet you after work. Have to stop at the store for something. - Brie

Bring chocolate. Xo Em.


A few hours later, Brielle was locked in her bathroom, the Wallgreen's bag on top of the sink.

Emily rapped on the door. "Oy, what are you doing in there?"

Brielle had been sitting on the edge of the bathtub for she didn't know how long. She continued to stare down at the thin stick in her hand, still not comprehending the one word displayed very clearly on the little screen. It was a foreign word, and not one that she would have ever associated with herself. Okay maybe later- much, much, much- later in life, but at that moment? Not so much.

She closed her eyes tightly- as though that would somehow make the word disappear- and stood before walking toward the door. She opened the door just as Emily was about the knock again. Emily lowered her hand slowly at the look on her best friends face. "What happened?"

Brielle extended her arm toward her silent best friend, jutting the stick in her direction. "What is that funny looking word right there?"

Emily paused. "I believe that says pregnant."

Right. Pregnant.




So, what did you think? I'm not really sure where this came from. I suppose I've always wanted to write a story about pregnancy so I figured, why not give it a shot? Not really sure how long it will be. Let me know your thoughts!