That marriage pact I made with my grumpy, off-limits best friend. That was totally a joke…Right?
It was a heat-of-the-moment agreement scribbled onto the back of a crinkled gas station receipt nine years ago.
“If neither of us are married by age 30, we’ll marry each other.”
Haha! So funny!
Cash moved to a city 500 miles away. Building his billion-dollar empire. Making a name for himself.
Me? I stayed in our gossipy hometown. Working a simple job. Living a simple life.
And we never discussed the marriage pact again.
But I just turned the big three-oh.
And Cash showed up at my door, in the middle of a freaking rainstorm.
Tall, muscled and soaking wet.
With a birthday cake in his hand and a daring smirk that says he means business.
Holy plot twist! Didn’t see that coming!
I know our decade-plus friendship is on the line. But I’m aching to see Cash’s wild side.