Page 27 of Melt for You (Slow Burn 2)
When I cock a brow, he smiles. “Ask me what I’m wearin’ underneath.”
“I feel like this is a trick to get me to look at your junk.”
He looks insulted. “My ‘junk’? Cameron McGregor doesn’t have ‘junk.’ He has family jewels, thank you very much.”
I bypass the ridiculous way he refers to himself in the third person. “Yeah, well your family jewels can stay safely under your skirt, buddy, because I’m in too good a mood to deal with a random penis sighting, thank you very much.”
He lifts the edge of his kilt a few inches and grins, waggling his eyebrows. “You sure? It’s a life-changin’ event, I promise you, lass.”
I snort. “No doubt, but I don’t have the cash to bankroll the long and expensive relationship with a psychotherapist that seeing you naked would necessitate.”
“Aha! You admit it would blow your mind!”
“I admit that I’ve seen people like you before, but I’ve had to pay an entry fee at the circus to do so.”
He purses his lips and looks me up and down. “Just make it easier on yourself, darlin’, and admit you’re wild for me and are dyin’ to bring a few dozen little McGregors into the world.”
“You’re delusional.”
“You’re massively in love with me.”
“I’m massively in dislike with you.”
“You’ve finally figured out I’m the real man of your dreams.”
“I’ve finally figured out how you got here. Someone left your cage door open.”
We grin at each other while the stupid rap music blares into the hallway, eroding my hearing another few percent.
“You look awful cheery, lass. Did your lingerie store have a sale on beige granny panties?”
Not even that little zinger puts a dent in my good mood. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re a genius. I think the roses worked.”
The grin wipes from his face like someone took an eraser to it. He steps forward into the hall, forcing me to step back to accommodate him, and stares down at me.
“Aye? What happened?”
I blink up at him. “Whoa. Your ability to go from harmless flirt to serial killer is mutant, you know that?”
“Don’t kid yourself. I’m never harmless.”
He says it while staring me in the eye, a vein throbbing in his temple. A little shiver runs up my spine. It isn’t fear, but I’m not sure what it is. Honestly, I don’t want to know. This guy is a single shady chromosome away from turning into the Hulk.
“Okeydokey. You’re never harmless. Congratulations on being a psychopath. By the way, why’s your music so loud? You said, and I quote, ‘Your pie for my silence.’ That ear-splitting noise is hardly silence.”
He folds his arms over his chest and peers at me down his nose. Honestly, the man is pretty intimidating when he does that. Now I understand why biceps are sometimes referred to as “guns.” He’s got a pair of howitzers on him, locked and loaded.
“That pie you made me yesterday bought my silence yesterday. You want more silence today? I want another pie.”
I gasp in outrage. “You never said that! You can’t change the rules after we made an agreement!”
“Cameron McGregor can do whatever he likes, lass.” He steps backward and makes a move to close the door.
“Wait!”
He gazes at me with hooded lids, waiting.
“I don’t have the ingredients for another shepherd’s pie, but—”
