Chelsea Fine - Best Kind of Broken

First and foremost, thank you to my beautiful readers, for believing in my stories and giving me the very best job in the whole world! I couldn’t do this without you—and I wouldn’t want to. Thank you for being a part of my storytelling journey.

Thank you to Lynsey Newton, for reading this story before anyone else and telling me it was worth finishing. You are more valuable than you know.

Thank you to my girls in Room 718, Heather Hildenbrand, Angeline Kace, Kate Copsey, and Heather Self, for sharing laughter and tears with me every year at UtopYA. You make this thing we call “work” ridiculously fun.

Thank you to Janet Wallace, for creating UtopYA and giving me a place to become great—and cry, of course. You always make me cry, woman! You are amazing, and I hope to someday change the world like you. One cup at a time…

Thank you to my amazing agent, Suzie Townsend (to whom this book is dedicated), for… well, everything. You make my dreams come true, and then you make them come true again. You’re kind of like a genie. A really rad New York genie.

Thank you to my editor, Megha Parekh, for making this book what it is. You are brilliant, and I’d be lost without you.

Thank you to my good pal Kristen, for the many years of friendship. I would be a crazy person without you. I mean, sure. I’m a crazy person with you, but that’s beside the point. PRIME RIB!

Thank you to my siblings, Kiele, Heath, and Jorden, for constantly showing me what unconditional love is capable of. We are winners.

Thank you to Cameron, my very first friend. You keep me together, which isn’t easy, and you do it with honesty and humor. I love you, I love you, I love your guts.

Thank you to my wonderful mom, for being the best mother in the universe. You have always been there for me, no matter what, and because of you my life has been beyond blessed. Oh! And thanks for reading this book and crying in all the right places. You get me, Mama. You totally get me.

Thank you to my grandparents Johnny and Milly, for a lifetime of love and encouragement. Thank you for letting me run through the sheets on your clothesline and dream out loud on your porch swing. Your home is where my heart learned how to fly, and I love you both more than words could ever say.

Thank you to my incredible children, Kiana and Caleb, who inspire me to believe in everything—including myself. Dream big, my littles. The stars are yours.

And finally, thank you to the man who is the other half of my soul. Brett, you never cease to amaze me with your patience and wisdom, and I could not do any of this without you. Thanks for sharing the human experience with me and for encouraging me to find more than what I see. Here’s to all the adventures ahead!

If my bastard neighbor uses all the hot water again, I will suffocate him in his sleep.

I listen as the shower finally goes off and huff my way around my room, gathering my shower supplies. I don’t politely wait for him to leave the bathroom, oh no. I stand outside the bathroom door—which has steam escaping from the crack at the bottom—with a carefully applied scowl and wait.

Still waiting.

The door swings open to a perfect male body emerging from a billow of hot fog. His dark hair is loose and wet and frames his face in a haphazard way that manages to look sexy despite the fact that he probably shook it out like a dog before opening the door, and of course he’s wearing nothing but a towel.

Kill me now.

I peek into the bathroom, totally pissed, and block his exit with my body. “A thirty-minute shower, Levi? What the hell?”

A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I was dirty.”

Oh, I bet.

“I swear to God,” I say, “if I have to take another cold shower—”

“You shouldn’t swear to God, Pix.” He brings his face close to mine and the steam from his skin dampens my nose and cheeks. “It’s not nice.”

This close up, I can see the tiny silver flecks in his otherwise bright blue eyes and almost feel the three-day scruff that shadows his jaw. Not that I want to feel his scruff. Ever.

I curl my lip. “I want a hot shower.”

“Then shower at night.”

“I’m not kidding, Levi.”

“Neither am I.” His eyes slide to my mouth for a moment—a split second—and there it is. The electricity. The humming vibration that never used to exist between us.

He snaps his eyes away and pulls back. The damp heat from his body pulls away as well, and some stupid, primal part of me whines in protest.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He waits for me to move out of his way. I don’t.

I jab my finger at his chest. “I haven’t had a hot shower for three days—”

Cupping my upper arms, he lifts me off the floor and moves me out of his way like I’m light as a feather. Then he walks the ten paces down the hall to his room and disappears inside without a look back.

Jackass.

With a muttered curse, I stomp into the small bathroom and try not to enjoy the smell of spearmint wafting into my nose and settling on my skin. Damn Levi and his hot-smelling soap.

My freshman year of college ended two weeks ago, and since Arizona State dorms don’t allow students to stay during the summer, I had to find a new place to live and, consequently, a job. So I started working for my aunt Ellen at Willow Inn because one of the job perks—and I use that term loosely—is free room and board.

And my free room shares a hallway and a bathroom with the only person I was hoping to avoid for the rest of my life.

Levi Andrews.

Hot guy. Handyman. My long-lost… something.

Ellen conveniently forgot to tell me that Levi lived at the inn, so the day I moved in was chock-full of surprises.

Surprise! Levi lives here too.

Surprise! You’ll be sleeping next door to him.

Surprise! You’ll be sharing a sink, a shower, and a daily dose of weird sexual tension with him.

Ellen is lucky I love her.

Had I known that Levi lived and worked here, I never would have taken the job, let alone moved in. But Aunt Ellen is one conniving innkeeper and, honestly, my only other option was far less appealing. So here I am, living and working right alongside a walking piece of my past.

Since we’re the only two resident employees, Levi and I are the only people who sleep in the east wing—a setup that might be ideal were it not for the giant elephant we keep sidestepping during these epic encounters of ours.

Memories start creeping up the back of my neck, and a hot prickle forms behind my eyes. I quickly blink it back and turn on the shower, scanning the bathroom for safer things to focus on.

Little blue dots on the wallpaper.

Purple flowers on my bottle of shampoo.

Dots. Flowers. Shampoo.

With the threat of tears now under control, I thrust my hand into the shower and relax a tinge when hot water hits my fingers. Stripping off my pajamas, I step into the spray with high hopes¸ but water has just hit the right side of my neck when it goes from warm to ice-cold.