She’s available.
I’m available, and honestly, Sammie is acting more and more like my daughter. She’s in there playing fa-la-la-la-la with a boy, and I’m out here… Whoa there.
I groan with sheer frustration and snap my head to the side, breathing hard. “We can’t do this. The kids.”
She grabs my shirt underneath my open coat and shakes me. “The kids are playing Elfprentice—competing for that Christmas cottage in California. Don’t worry. Your grandfather is watching their every move, making a list, adding up points, deducting penalties. They’ll be safe.”
“And the assassins from your husband?” I glance toward the dusky skies where the sun is setting behind the snow-capped mountain range.
“They’ll leave us alone. It’s a thorn in my side, knowing he’s keeping tabs on me, but he doesn’t mind the charade with Nash, as long as I stay married to him, and he won’t mind me bedding you.”
At least she’s direct.
“You’re making this sound so sleazy. This is supposed to be a family affair, and my daughter’s in there.” I hook my chin toward the crowded ranch house where the sounds of merriment, singing and clapping, as well as the occasional high-pitched squeal and giggle harmonize with well-timed ho, ho, hos.
Daughter, my ass. Why is Sammie sitting on my mind when there’s an available piece offering herself to me? Don’t tell me I should feel guilty or anything. It isn’t as if Sammie and I have anything going on—not when she’s swapping spit with a teenager.
“We’re both consenting adults.” Lindsay presses her case. “No one has to know.”
Whatever she is—innocent she’s not, and I’m betting she’s been around the merry-go-round with a few of those cowhands.
Her thighs rub against my crotch. My blood thrums so hot and painful that I swear my dick’s going to balloon and burst if I don’t get relief.
“For a hot, sexy guy, you’re really hard…” Lindsay squirms against me, then completes her thought. “Up. Why?”
“Why?” I’m tongue-tied for once. What can I tell her? I’m not a guy who can swing both ways, and where I was for the last twenty-four months—every long and boring day and night of it, was the last place to look for love.
More like fighting them off and earning a reputation.
“Let’s just say I’m like a penned-up bull. Secret mission in an all-male environment.”
“They don’t have women in the military?”
“I can’t say any more. Top secret.” I set her down on her feet and move outside of strike range.
Let her believe I’m special ops or a mercenary. That part is true. It’s the penned-up part she’s not catching, and that’s fine by me. I’m not an easy mark for anyone, and I’m going to figure out what kind of grifter she is and whether her story holds water or not.
The question is whether I screw her brains out first or hold off.
“Let’s move somewhere more private,” Lindsay suggests, slipping her hand into mine.
Still… this could turn out icky—especially if she’s lying about Nash not having feelings for her.
“I might be hard, but I’m not hard up for a load of bull. What do you really want?” I jerk my hand from her grasp.
Her pupils pinpoint like she’s a feral animal about to attack, but the front door opens with a whoosh.
“Oh, there you are!” Jolene bangs the hand-held gong and blinks at us. “It’s dinnertime. The tree is trimmed, and the children are washing their hands and faces. Come on in and help us light the Yule log.”
