Page 94 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

I laugh heartily against his lips before kissing him again and intensifying the issue.

Chase groans inside of my mouth as the fireworks burst above us, painting the sky in sparks and color that I can still see even though my eyes are closed.

I soak it in.

For the first time in forever, I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I’m right in the middle of the fire.

And loving every second of it.

CHAPTER 22

THE PLOT TWIST

ROXY

* * *

I wake up to my phone violently vibrating on the nightstand.

Mari Lynn’s name flashes across the screen.

“Hello?” I croak, rubbing my eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Emergency,” she practically snarls. “Turn on channel six. Right now.”

What the hell?

Leaning over Chase’s side of the bed, I slap around on his nightstand, fumbling for the remote. Finding it, I jab the power button. The TV turns on.

A news anchor smiles brightly. “In other news this morning, investor Holden Marks has just purchased more property with plans to open a brick-and-mortar restaurant Downtown… adjacent to a popular new food truck.”

I sit straight up and scream out in horror, “No….” just as a shot appears of the building behind… Chase’s food truck.

Holden is smug and smirking on my television screen. He’s standing right in front of the building. The For Sale sign is gone and a giant Coming Soon sign has replaced it. A sign with Holden’s fucking face on it.

Chase walks in, towel around his waist, damp from the shower. “I heard you shriek, babe. What’s wrong?”

I point at the TV and growl. “This piece of shit… I swear… I loathe him… He’s moving in next door to your food truck.”

Chase freezes as he stares at the tv. His jaw clenches as he mutters, “Seriously?”

“He’s doing this on purpose.” I throw the remote down and it bounces off the bed. “He’s trying to steal your thunder because he didn’t get his way with me.”

Chase exhales slowly and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well, he thinks I stole his girl. And we did just goad him at the launch for his event catering shit.” His eyes meet mine, hard and determined. “Let him try.”

What?

“Let him try?”

How is he so fucking calm?

I blink at him. “You’re… not mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad as hell,” he says calmly. “But I’m not worried.”

I shake my head. “You’re calm as hell and I’m ready to go rip his limbs off his body and beat him with them. You’re infuriatingly Zen, husband of mine.”

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