Page 125 of Score on You

Ridge chuckles while steadying me with an arm around my waist. “I’m convinced that dog never gets tired.”

“He’ll calm down eventually, once the puppy phase passes.”

His gaze slides down to where our golden doodle is spinning in aimless circles. “If you say so.”

I free the rowdy rascal and he clears the three porch stairs in one leap. We follow at a normal pace. A sting lashes up my arm when I reach for the banister. I wince and tuck the sensitive area against my side.

Ridge immediately hovers over me. “You okay?”

“Just itches.” And burns like fire ants attacked my flesh. I don’t dare reveal that last bit to him. If I did, this would be my first and only tattoo.

His mouths stoops into a frown. “It gets worse before it gets better. I’ll apply more gel once we get inside.”

My eyes drift to his shoulder, but the fresh ink is covered by his shirt. “You’re not bothered in the slightest.”

“I’m a pro.”

“Really?” My eyes widen to mimic saucers. “That doesn’t fit your vibe.”

“Sarcasm is very sexy coming from you.” The growl in his tone curls my toes.

I don’t bother hiding a squirm. “Keep it up and you’ll see plenty more come from me.”

“Does sex fiend want to play?”

“Always,” I return while swaying into him.

“That’s real good to hear, sweetness. I’m already up for you,” he rasps and presses the hard evidence into my hip. “Better get your ass in the house or we’ll give the neighbors a show.”

I trot forward, nowhere near bold enough to put our private intimacy on display for others to witness. Not that I believe Ridge would actually allow that to happen.

The door swings open before Ridge can grab the knob. Three very large men fill our entryway. I yelp and jump into motion, ready to flee without hesitation.

My fiancé doesn’t share that flight plan. His presence turns darker than a midnight storm as he stares down these intruders. I’m not ashamed to admit that I duck behind him. One strange man is cause for concern. Three smashes the panic button on repeat.

I grab onto Ridge’s shirt and yank. It’s not a shock when he doesn’t budge. My hold tightens for a second attempt but I’ll rip the fabric before I get him to move. He’s like a grizzly bear ready to dismember the wolves dumb enough to trespass into his den.

“What. The. Fuck?” He spits the punctuated expletive through clenched teeth.

Meanwhile, I’m tugging on his arm. “You’re super strong and everything but I don’t love these odds. Let’s go.”

“Not going anywhere,” he rumbles.

“Your ability to inflict damage is above average, but these odds aren’t in your favor. Think about our future children.”

Which is especially crucial considering our fur baby is two seconds away from meeting his doom. Walter’s preservation tactics are another problem entirely. He paws at them, whimpering for their affection as if they’re old friends. His plan is to beg for mercy. Maybe he’s got the right idea.

“There’s cherry cobbler in the fridge. I just baked it this morning. Give them the whole pan,” I suggest.

“They don’t get shit,” Ridge snarls.

“It’s not worth fighting over,” I plead.

“I’d like to see them try.” Ridge straightens to towering proportions. His presence appears to double in size and intimidation to confront the intruders.

“Let’s check on my mom. She might be in danger.” I pair the last ditch effort with a futile pull on his arm.

“These dipshits aren’t much, but their loyalty is solid. They’d never hurt family.”

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