Page 117 of Wicked Pickle

“But you see them as they are. Worthy of a place to call theirs.”

“Yeah. That’s about it.”

She lifts her joined fists to her chin to rest her head. “I have a feeling there were some procedural abnormalities in the permit process. I might be able to find someone with the jurisdiction to look into it.”

It’s interesting that she’s offering. “I was thinking it was time to move on.”

“Dean Sawyer Packwood is giving up?” She lifts her eyebrows in a challenge.

“I didn’t say that.” I shift on the bench. Am I? I thought I was being practical.

“Sounds like it to me.” She pushes the water bottles toward me. “Good luck with the Army. Take care of your sister.”

She links her shoes over her fingers and stands up to walk by me, but I don’t miss that sashay in her hips as she passes.

I’m not letting her go. Not now that she’s here.

No fucking way.

I reach for her arm and drag her onto my lap. “How about you tell me what you’re thinking about doing to those assholes in the permit office while I lick all the salt off your body?”

She sucks in a breath. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want to know what our future holds.”

Then I see that look I used to know, flirty and sharp. “I don’t work for free. Ask me again when we’re two orgasms down.”

I feel like I can breathe for the first time in weeks. “That’s my good girl.”

CHAPTER 37

SYMPHONY

Idon’t know what we’re doing, but clearly, we’re doing it naked because Diesel says, “I’m tearing this suit off you the moment we’re away from the crowd.”

Diesel drops off the water bottles to his sister with me over his shoulder. “Don’t come into the condo anytime soon,” he warns her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, giving me a wink.

I bang on Diesel’s back. “Let me down, you caveman. Everyone on the beach is watching you lug me away.”

“You love it,” he says. “I’m going to do a Tarzan roar in a minute.”

I laugh and bang on his back some more. “You wouldn’t dare.”

But he does, letting out a jungle call that gets the attention of everyone who might not have noticed us before.

I bounce along, waving at people as we pass, not missing the cute bronzed-bodied girls taking in Diesel’s delicious tan body in the ice blue board shorts.

Read ‘em and weep. This one’s mine.

The condo complex is three stories, and apparently, Diesel’s rental is on the top floor. He takes the steps two at a time, even with me on his shoulder.

I laugh harder as my belly is jarred against his shoulder. “Good thing I haven’t been doing Fireball shots, or I’d be puking down your back.”

He slows down, striding down the hall until we reach a pale green door in the beach pastel rainbow. He has a key card on a stretchy band around his wrist and flashes it over the lock.

Diesel takes care not to bump my head as he hauls me into the room and kicks the door closed. We don’t stop until we arrive at a room with two queen beds.

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