“So? I’m a smuggler.”
“Being a smuggler doesn’t mean you can drink and drive.”
Smuggler’s Hideaway is pretty lax on rules. Public nudity? Slap on the wrist. Playing loud music in the middle of the night? A stern talking to and a reminder to invite your neighbors next time. Not picking up after your dog? A day of community service cleaning the beach.
But drinking and driving is a whole different kettle of fish. It’s dangerous, and Smugglers don’t abide danger – especially when Sammy the seal enjoys sunbathing in the middle of the street.
“You can drive. You haven’t been drinking.”
“I haven’t?” I’m not lying. I’m merely leading him in the wrong direction.
“Damn.” His shoulders fall. “I miss my baby girl.”
He seriously needs to stop with the sweet dad routine or I’ll fall in love with him. And falling in love with Zane Raider will only lead to heartbreak.
Considering Zane and his brothers visit the bar regularly, I’d have to quit my job. And maybe leave the island. The only place I’ve ever felt at home.
Nope. It’s better to keep my hands to myself.
Zane slumps against me before letting out a snore. Great. He fell asleep in my arms.
“Come on, daddy. Let’s get you to bed.”
“I’m not tired,” he mumbles.
“We can watch television in bed.”
Since I can hear Zane’s television blaring sports in his room at all hours of the night and day, I figure this will get him moving. And I’m right. He shuffles toward the hallway.
I secure his arm around my shoulder and wrap my arm around his waist as I help him walk. Or, rather, I help him not slam into walls and doors.
By the time we reach his bedroom, I’m cursing how heavy he is. His broad shoulders may be pretty to look at, but they’re freaking heavy to keep steady.
“Here’s your bed.” I gently push him and he collapses.
My job here is done. “Good night.”
“Wait.” He shackles my wrist. “Watch television with me.”
I glance around the room. There’s a bed and a dresser in here. No chair for me to sit on. There’s only one place for me, but laying on the bed with Zane is a bad idea with disaster written all over it.
“I think I’ll go to bed.”
He slaps the bed next to him. “Guess what? I have a bed right here.”
“In my own bed. To sleep.”
“Come on.” He tugs on my wrist. “Just for a little while.”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“It’s an excellent idea,” he declares and pulls on my wrist until I land on the bed next to him.
Welp. I guess I’m watching television with Zane in his bed. That smells of him. I inhale his oaky musk scent and a littleburst of excitement travels through me. I’d roll around in his scent if I could.
“What do you want to watch?”
His response? A snore.
