Page 51 of Leashed

Bo held his position until Sage made up her mind and turned tail. She was out of the restaurant before he gave in and tore off after her, tossing his jacket on as he dodged servers and patrons. “Sage!” he barked while he pushed through the exit doors and ran to her car. “Unlock the doors.”

She shook her head and started the engine.

He lolled his head back in frustration. “Come on. I wasn’t serious. I was just being a smartass.” Rapping his knuckle on the window, he bent down, cringing at the dark, narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “I was just being a dumbass?” When she refused to look his way, he rested his forehead on the glass. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m cool with you being pissed at me right now, because I definitely deserve it, but don’t just take off.” He watched her hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Isn’t there some kind of rule about not going to bed angry?”

She finally looked at him, her expression hard. “That’s for couples.”

“Don’t buddies count?” he asked, trying to keep a cool front as the locks flipped open. “Because we’re still friends, right?”

She motioned for him to get in, crossing her arms when he sat and slammed the door a little harder than needed, his knees practically flush with his chest in the tiny car. Angling the heat vents toward him, she placed her purse into the back seat and stared at him for a few moments. “Yeah, we’re friends,” she grumbled, turning her attention to the frosted windshield. “Which is why you really shouldn’t have done that.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making things worse, putting one hand over his mouth when she looked at him expectantly.

“Spit it out,” she huffed. “You’re dying to say something.”

Leaning against the door, he held his hands over the warm air. “I wouldn’t fuck you, anyway,” he said. “Aside from the whole friend thing, which I’ve never actually tried with a woman other than C before so I think I need a little leeway here, you’re too…” He gestured up and down over her, unable to find the word.

Unimpressed, she stared him down. “Old?”

“Good,” he finished, settling for the only option he had that didn’t sound entirely stupid. “You should be treated like a goddess. I’m not the guy for that, but neither is Nixon. And I just don’t know how you don’t see that.”

She rolled her eyes and sat back. “I’m not a goddess.”

“Thank god,” he grunted. “I said treated like one. Goddesses are really freakin’ uppity and have this weird obsession with games that put guys into some really messed-up places. They’re not as bad as the Muses or Fates, but definitely on the do-not-mess-with list.” He watched as she side-eyed him briefly, her shoulders relaxing a fraction when he gave her a grin. “We good?”

She nodded and sighed. “Yeah, we’re good. That last book is due Friday, so if you can swing it by after work, I won’t charge you any late fees.”

“That’s why I got them out on your card,” he stated, swinging the door open. “You’re my book sugar mama.”

He shut the door before she could respond, the tension in his muscles that had crept up during their argument lessening as he climbed into his truck and took off for a highway run.

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