Page 15 of Snow Bound

“Mom said she was hosting a family reunion.” Grant frowned. “But as far as I can tell, she’s the only one here.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“I didn’t exactly get the chance.”

“You might have, if you hadn’t been too busy sticking your dick in her,” Simon pointed out. “But since you’ve been obsessed with this woman for a year and a half?—.”

“I object to the term obsession,” Grant interrupted.

“Sorry, how would you prefer I describe eighteen months of pining?”

“If you hadn’t sent me to Istanbul to keep that pretentious asshole from getting killed,” Grant began.

“Oh, so it’s my fault you anger-banged her in your mother’s kitchen?”

“It’s your fault she was pissed at me, which led to said anger-banging.”

“Then you’re welcome. I assume you asked Michael about her?”

“I tried.” Grant thought back to the conversation he’d had with the owner of Odyssey upon his return from Turkey last summer. “He didn’t have much to say.”

“He never does. Want me to run her?”

Grant hesitated. He wanted to say yes, but it felt…intrusive. “Thanks, but no.”

“You don’t know anything about her,” Simon pointed out. “Except that she’s not above angry sex, and has good aim and a solid throwing arm.”

“Well, shit,” Grant said and Simon roared with laughter.

“Did she really tag you with a water bottle and an apple?”

“I was trying not to be menacing, all right?”

“Sure, you were.” Simon was nearly choking he was laughing so hard. “Where’d she hit you with the toaster?”

“She didn’t. It was still plugged in so it didn’t get far.”

“Lucky you.”

Grant thought about what happened after the toaster. “Yeah, lucky me.”

“You gonna fuck her again?”

God, he hoped so. “Doubt it. She’s pretty pissed.”

“Didn’t stop her last night,” Simon pointed out. “Let me know if you change your mind about the run.”

“Thanks, Simon.”

“No problem. Before you go, I have a question.”

“What?”

“Did she tag you in the balls with the bottle or the fruit?”

“Goodbye, dickhead,” Grant said and hung up on his friend’s delighted laughter.

He thought briefly about trying to get another hour of sleep—his body thought he was still in Hong Kong, and the full day of travel yesterday wasn’t helping—but between the phone call and his bladder, it wasn’t going to happen. He frowned down at Henry, who apparently didn’t have the same problem. The mutt had fallen back to sleep with half his considerable bulk draped across Grant’s pelvis, which was not helping his bladder situation.

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