Page 19 of Dump Tackle My Heart
Why does that sound like a question?
His smile widens, all slow and wicked.
“Pillows. Got it.”
“I’m serious!”
“So am I.”
He drops the rest of the brining ingredients onto the turkey and into the bag and seals it like it’s no big deal.
Like he’s not half-naked and destroying my brain one flex at a time.
Then he grabs a sharpie, and writes on the bag in block letters: MY TURKEY–DO NOT TOUCH.
“That for me or the bird?” I mutter.
He doesn’t answer.
Just gives me one of those lazy, smug looks that makes me want to kiss him or kill him—or both.
“Alright then,” I say, clearing my throat. “That’s done. Brining begins. Now put the whole thing back in the refrigerator.”
“You got it, Sweetheart. Guess I’m learning all sorts of things this week.”
I force a smile and grab the video camera and phone, pretending to look over the footage as he goes back to the sink to wash his hands one last time.
This is fine. I can do this.
One bed.
One giant man.
One half-naked turkey brining session later.
Who am I kidding?
This weekend’s gonna kill me.
CHAPTER 6-TANK
Okay,so I might’ve fucked up a little with that whole shirtless turkey brining situation.
I thought I was just teasing Dani a bit.
Being cheeky. Stirring the pot.
But nothing—and I mean nothing—is hotter than watching a woman look at you like she wants to climb you like a tree and forget her name doing it.
That’s what her eyes were saying.
Emerald green, wide and startled, locking on my chest like it held the answers to the universe.
She licked her lips.
Swallowed hard.
Fumbled a measuring cup.
