“And—”
“Hey, Hot Stuff, settle down for a second. I don’t need you to play real estate agent for me, but I appreciate the offer of help.”
Her lips pull together in a surprised O.
I give her a weak smile. “What I really needed was someone to hear it from me first. To say it out loud. I’m being traded. Now that I’ve done that, I can move forward. It’ll be fine.”
She nods weakly. “Right.”
We sit in silence for a bit. Then I give her a half-smile. “Sorry for calling you Hot Stuff.”
“It’s better than calling me a bitch.”
Ah, so she hadn’t missed that. “I stopped myself.”
“It was in your head, though.”
“Not really. No, seriously, I don’t think you’re…Jesus, Sasha, I promise you I don’t think you’re a bitch, not in a bad way. I think you’re made of steel and you fucking turn me on like crazy when you pop your claws out.”
Her eyes are huge now, and I do a quick mental replay of what I just said. Aw, shit.
“Ignore me,” I say after clearing my throat. “I tend to just say shit like that.”
“One night.”
“Pardon?”
She looks outside, then back at me. “One afternoon.”
“I don’t follow.” Except I think I do, and I think I’m in, but Sasha moves faster than I do.
“Never mind.”
“You’re talking about sex? I’m in.”
She holds up her index finger. “I want it officially noted that I still don’t like you.”
“Noted.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
I grin. “Hot Stuff, I’m more than okay with that. If you want to tell me that you hate me while I’m balls deep inside you, you’ll feel just how much I don’t mind that kind of smack talk.”
“This is a terrible idea,” she whispers.
I stand up and peel off my t-shirt.
She nods, a wobbly, disbelieving, am-I-really-doing-this-with-him head bob. Then she points to the bedroom.
One afternoon.
Then I’m moving across the country.
What could go wrong?
Thank you so much for readingFull Mountie!There are two epilogues for Beth and her men, so keep reading for those—they start on the next page!
Tate’s book is scheduled for August 2017! Keep in touch with us via our website to hear all aboutMr. Hat Trick: www.friskybeavers.com