Rio raises a finger like he’s going to speak again, but I level my gaze on him. “No, no ... do not say a word. Not a damn word.”
He shrugs, wincing. “Maybe just one ... sound bath.”
“That’s two,” I growl, but he keeps talking.
“It really works for calming and reining in thoughts that get away from you.”
“Oh my god ... the only bath I want to see is one I can hold you under ...” I’m glaring at him as I take a slow step forward. I can feel my chest rising and falling too quickly as I grip the damn heart bag in my hand tighter. “This is not a movie, Chips—”
I’m so mad that I’m pretty sure the worried look now on his face is justified.
“—it’s our fucking life. So while you’ve been pretending to run from bad guys, we’ve been doing it IRL. So quiet on the set, dick.”
I raise my arm, ready to shove the heart directly into his chest, when I hear “Evie” ... “Shit” ... and a chuckle.
But that doesn’t stop my tirade. What does is Chase grabbing me by my belt loop and forcibly jerking me backward, making me gasp as my arms fly in the air. I’m then spun around behind him, my braids covering my face.
What. The. Fuck.
His strong wrist is a tree trunk beneath my free hand while my mouth hangs open as we stand back-ish to back, with me on my tiptoes, a wedgie firmly in place between my cheeks.
No, he didn’t hang me out to dry like laundry behind him.
“Sorry about her,” he offers coolly. “Evie’s allergic to reason. Instead of breaking out in hives, she believes she’s a few inches taller than she is.”
Everyone laughs, and I hear them speak, but I can’t tell what’s being said. I’m that gobsmacked.
I once heard someone say their flabbers were gasted, and now I think I know what they mean. Flabbergasted is an understatement. This dick just perched me behind him, holding me up by the ass of my jeans, and made a joke about me.
I’ll find him in every life just to ruin it.
I start to wiggle harder, signaling him to let me go, but instead, he lifts me higher, making me suck in a breath as Officer Lewis says, “Listen, we’ll look into it. Okay—”
Holy shit, for two reasons: One, did his dumbass just sweet-talk them? And two, I’m pretty sure this is the most legitimate camel toe I’ve ever had.
Still, my heart’s beating slower. Goldie raises her brows at me before I feel the grip on the back of my jeans loosen, and I almost breathe a sigh of relief, but then Sergeant Stupid adds, “It’s the least we can do for LA’s favorite new chef. Plus, we don’t want you in trouble with your spunky little lady ...”
Oh. My. God. Absolutely not.
“Little lady, my a—” starts missiling out of my mouth, but I’m cut off by Chase’s deep voice.
“That’s awesome,” he says smoothly over my outrage. “Thanks so much. The little lady and I really appreciate it. Here, take my card—”
Little lady? Bury me. Now.
My brows wrinkle as I look around for a moment until I feel him reach into his back pocket, probably to pull out his wallet. His hand brushes my ass, and the movement jostles my body. Somehow, that registers as consent for my brain to picture his bare ass.
Oh god. Someone burn my eyes. No, no, no, no, no. If he doesn’t let me go, I swear to god ...
I rock my body again, hitting my butt against his, finally making him release me. But only for his hand to audaciously grip just above my waist before I’m guided quickly back beside him.
“We really appreciate it, Officer.” His deep voice—no, more like nails-on-a-chalkboard voice—stays calm as he smiles at the cops. “And we’d love to hear any info you find out. Seriously. In fact, if you find something, you can tell us about it over dinner. Anytime, on me. At LA’s hottest spot.”
They each smile obnoxiously wide, even though the offer is only for Lewis. “Holy shit. Absolutely, Mr. Beckett. We really appreciate it. We’ll definitely turn over every rock.”
Will you now? Not because it’s your job, though.
I’d love to say everything I’m thinking. But that’s the equivalent of cutting off my nose to spite my face. I really should get more credit for the things I don’t say.
