Page 121 of The Woman By the Lake

I turned my face and shoved it in his pec.

Riggs cupped my shoulder and squeezed. “We’ll stop talking about it.”

I drew in breath, put my cheek to his skin, and whispered, “I wish she could meet you. She’d like you. And my dedulya would love you. You could take turns pissing in corners and fighting over the remote, and ogling pin-up girl posters, and debating Malinois versus cane corso until the wee hours of the morning and have a competition on who can do the widest manspread. He’d have the time of his life.”

More amusement in his tone when he asked, “Manspread?”

“You know, when you sit down and you haven’t appropriately contained the family jewels, or you wish to declare to all the other male species in your vicinity your manly endowments are bigger than theirs. I don’t know why you guys do it. But it’s when you spread your legs really wide, even if you’re sitting in the middle seat of an airplane or something.”

“You have a lot of experience with someone in the middle seat?”

Not even close. I had the means, so I was first class all the way.

“No,” I allowed.

“You own your own plane?”

I didn’t answer.

He shook me, and there was vastly more humor in his, “Nadia?”

“Dedulya sold it,” I mumbled.

He bit back laughter, because we were “out,” but we were still keeping our nighttime sleeping arrangements a secret from Ledger.

“Do I do the manspread?” he asked when he got control of his hilarity.

“Not that I’ve noticed. But we haven’t really been out, as it were, like sitting in a booth together or something.”

“We’ll remedy that tomorrow. Mom knows. Ledge knows. Mom, I know, went right home and called Kate, so Kate knows. The whole of MP might as well know. You ready for that?”

It had only been a few days, so it was crazy, but still, I was ready for a whole lot more.

“Sure,” I replied.

“We’ll go to the Double D for breakfast or something. Since Ledge has his sleepover at Dustin’s tomorrow, we’re fucking and sleeping at the cabin, though.”

Lord.

A fantasy come to life.

“Good for you?” he asked.

“Totally.”

“You make yourself come, thinking of me in that bed?” he asked right out.

That was a big fat yes.

“Um…”

“Definitely this bed, thinking of you,” he shared. “Also, the shower.”

I was getting turned on again.

“Um…”

“Fuckin’ cute how you get shy,” he murmured, turning toward me so we were face-to-face, tangling our legs, and the cherry on that sundae, gathering me close in his arms.

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