The sun will set soon, and the temperature will drop fast, but…
I slip an arm around Lucy’s waist and turn her to face me. “Why shower if we’re just going to get sweaty again?”
She stretches up on her toes, perfect breasts pressed to my chest, and kisses me long and slow. “There is less than a zero percent chance I’m having sex with you while coated in desert grime and sweat.”
“Spoilsport.” I slide my hands lower, cupping the soft curves of her ass and pulling her closer. My cock stiffens at the contact, desire racing up my spine. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but even sweat-soaked and dirty, I can’t get enough of her. “Where is your sense of adventure?”
“I left it at the door, along with the need for sunscreen and bug spray.” She twists out of my grip and dances away, retreating toward the back of the trailer. “I’m going to feed Gizmo and hop in the shower. Surely you can wait ten minutes.”
Ten whole minutes?
Not likely.
I scrub a hand over my face. It comes away slick, and when I hold it up for inspection, dirt lines every crack and crevice on my palm.
Lucy might be onto something with those showers.
“Ay, cabrón.” She turns from the wardrobe, eyes wide. “Don’t freak out,” she says, holding up a cautionary hand. “But Gizmo got out of his cage.”
My hands tremble, and suddenly I’m not feeling so hot.
Probably low blood pressure. Lunch was hours ago.
Yeah-fucking-right.
“How is that possible?” I ask, gaze sweeping the floor for any sign of the little fur ball. “Don’t you have a lock on that thing?”
Lucy rolls her eyes. “He’s a pet, not a prisoner. I must not have closed the latch the whole way. It happens sometimes.”
I stare at her, incredulous. “This has happened before? You just let him run wild?”
“En serio?” She flips on the overhead light. “Help me look for him, will you?”
She’s got to be kidding.
This is literally my worst nightmare.
I give silent thanks I’m still wearing my sneakers, because the prospect of that little monster scurrying across my bare foot is too much to handle.
“I know you’re not his biggest fan.” She flashes me an apologetic smile. “I don’t expect you to touch him or anything. Just keep your eyes and ears open. And be careful not to scare him.”
Scare him?
Don’t be an asshole, Hart. It’s just a fucking hamster.
“It’s a good thing I like you,” I grumble, wiping clammy palms on my shorts. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”
Not even my brothers.
Her expression softens. “I know.”
Just then, there’s a quiet squeak.
We both freeze and then turn our attention to the floor, searching for the source. At first, there’s nothing. But then the squeak sounds again, louder this time.
It’s coming from the back of the trailer. Lucy turns, inspecting the second wardrobe, but she’s too late. A tiny ball of brown fur scurries right past her.
The little monster runs straight at me like we’re playing chicken, the David versus Goliath edition.
