The Sweetest Things
The Sweetest Thing
by
Nikki Winter
Dedication
Okay, two things here, people. 1—Janet is involved in a few of the shenanigans you will witness. Yes, she is aware and yes, she takes full pride in that. 2—Billy has stamped a British flag so far in the flesh of Konstantine Vetrov’s ass, a few times I heard him murmur to me, “This one does so enjoy taking the mickey, eh?” I don’t even know what that
means!
(sigh) She might’ve converted him. Just please,
please
don’t make the mistake of thinking you can have Koz
…
because Billy’s
…
well
…
she’s
off her trolley.
I adore her
…
but it’s true! She’ll beat me when she sees this but then she’ll remember that the blue-eyed Russian belongs solely to her and all will be forgiven. With that being said, enjoy the fruits of my labor!
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
The Sweetest Things © 2013 Nikki Winter
Editor: Katriena Knights
Cover Art: Marteeka Karland
Books are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
Contents
Prologue
Harper’s tummy felt funny; like there were a million butterflies taking up space inside. It didn’t matter how many times she inhaled, the butterflies never disappeared, not even a little.
“Yo, Sweets!”
Sixteen-year-old Harper Sweet’s head snapped up at the call of her nickname. Her hands instinctively tightened around the bat resting in her palms as she gazed across the field, staring into laughing, ice-blue eyes.
“You’re up!” Konstantine “Koz” Vetrov—Harper thought he had the weirdest but coolest name
ever
some days—shouted from the pitcher’s mound. He was grinning, teasing her, and she knew why.
Harper wasn’t surprised. That was the norm between her and Koz, her older brother Owen’s best friend. She and her sibling were extremely close, and somehow that had extended to Konstantine. From the age of six he’d been taunting her, poking her, pulling her hair and calling her that stupid nickname.
Most kids thought it was because her last name was Sweet
.
Those close to them knew it was because Harper had a serious sugar addiction. When she wasn’t on the field playing softball, like today, she was in the kitchen helping her mama bake amazing desserts.
Stepping up to the base so she could bat, she raised it, ready for Konstantine. She had a lot to lose this time around. Even though it was just a normal ballgame between the neighborhood kids that each of them drafted for occasional Saturday games, she and Konstantine had made a bet.
If she lost, she had to kiss him
and
subject herself to being his date on Friday night at the junior Valentine’s Day dance. Harper shuddered a little. If
he
lost, he had to bring pompoms to every one of her league games, when he wasn’t playing himself, and cheer for her on the sidelines the whole time. It was a deal too sweet to pass up—no pun intended. The thing Harper kept questioning, though, was why did he want to kiss her?
It wasn’t like she thought she was ugly or anything. It was just that Konstantine was...well,
Konstantine.
She’d seen him laugh, cry, and throw up, so him asking to kiss her was just
weird.
But she really didn’t have a choice but to go through with it.
“If you strike out we win the game, Sweets!” Konstantine called out.
Harper narrowed her eyes on him. “Then I won’t strike out!”
With a smirk, he pulled his arm back, wound up, and pitched. With a deep breath, she waited until the ball was right where it needed to be and swung, her bat vibrating from the connection it made. With wide eyes, she watched it fly. It kept going...and going...and going...and then...it landed right in Mitch Russo’s mitt.
“No!” Harper cried, throwing down her bat.
“Yes!” Konstantine threw up his hands as the rest of his team celebrated their victory.
She stood there, staring off blindly as everyone left the field, laughing and heading home while Konstantine walked closer, his smile as broad as humanly possible.
“Time to pay up, Sweets.”
Sixteen years later...
Why was this feeling so familiar? The sensation of butterflies tumbling around inside her gut had Harper shifting from one foot to the other restlessly. It was almost impossible to stay completely still, so she’d given up trying about twenty minutes ago. Instead she bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes scanning the hordes of people walking past her, never once allowing her gaze to stray too far from his gate.
She wasn’t exactly ready,
so whatever extra amount of time she could get once she saw him approaching, seconds she could use to unscramble her brain, would be valued.
“Sweets?”
It didn’t matter that it had been years since she heard that voice without the help of a computer. It didn’t matter that as soon as it hit her ears, getting a lungful of air seemed like a distant memory. All that mattered was...
“I’ve told you about that goddamn nickname!” Harper spun around and stopped dead in her tracks. She had no clue where her awkward, messy-haired Konstantine Vetrov was but the man standing in front of her was
not
him. “Koz?” She could be ashamed about how high her voice had gone later...much later.
“I’ll be calling you that
forever
.” Konstantine grinned down at her, and Harper remembered a time when they were the same height. Those were the days when she could smack him for calling her Sweets
and get away with it. Being that he stood a foot and a half over her now, his shoulders so wide that she couldn’t even see past him, she wasn’t going to try her luck. Besides, he was too pretty to be smacked.
Koz was the reminder of why she’d had a thing for dark-haired men all her life. His wavy mop of inky black locks fell just to his shoulders, a little less out of control than they used to be. His features had broadened, the angles hardening and forcing out the baby fat that had once taken up residence on his face. His lips were full and a soft pink. His skin was just sun-kissed enough that it put her in the mind of soft, sandy beaches. But those eyes...after all this time those eyes had managed to hold her attention like nothing else.
During the strangest times, Harper had thought about the ice-blue orbs currently staring down at her with a softness that made heat build in her lower belly, chasing away the butterflies. Video calls hadn’t been the same as seeing those eyes face to face, actually
feeling
his gaze as it scanned her.
God, she’d missed him. More than she’d actually thought before. Having him stand in front of her, one hand constantly moving hair off his forehead, the other holding onto his book bag for dear life, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself at him and never let go. That shit was just weird. So instead, she punched him in the shoulder.
“Ow! Viper woman!” Konstantine dropped his bag then wrapped his arms around her, squeezing as hard as possible.
Harper kicked her legs, gasping, “You...giant...bastard...stop...”
His chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. “Is this what you wanted, Sweets?” he teased in a patronizing voice. “For Kozzy to hug you nice and tight?”
“I...hate...you...”
“I love you too!” He then proceeded to plant kisses all over her face until she started screaming.
When her feet finally touched the ground again, she swiped at her face. “Oh, my God! You just gave me some foreign STD, didn’t you?”
Konstantine waggled his brows. “For that to happen I need to kiss more than your face.”