“It’s fine,” I grumble, tucking my watch beneath my shirt sleeve. Turning my attention to the feathered fiend, I glare at him. “Do you want these berries or not? I guarantee they taste better than my watch.”
Spike side-eyes me but seems to listen. He bends down to snatch a berry from my palm, keeping one beady little eye on me the whole time.
“You have to pet him,” Mira says. “Look at mine. She likes it.”
“Right. Just pet the mini raptor with rainbow feathers. Whose idea was this, anyway?”
The bright, tinkling laugh I get in response makes dealing with this rude bird worthwhile. As long as Mira’s happy, I’m happy. And judging by the massive smile she’s sporting and the sparkle in her eyes, Mira is very happy.
“All right, buddy. Time to shoo. I think this is the moment.” I drop the last two blueberries from my hand and flap my arm, trying to get the bird to fly away while I reach for the ring in my right pocket.
Spike, the little shit, squawks with displeasure as he flaps his wings and launches off my arm. Indignant at my treatment, Spike grabs at my hair with his beak before flying above my head, circling me. I ignore him, my fingers clutched around the little velvet box, and take a step toward my wife.
Spike circles again, and just as I’m about to get down on one knee, the feathered bastard squawks again, then shits on my head.
On. My. Head.
“Sonofabitch,” I growl, letting go of the ring box in my pocket. I’m not proposing to my wife with a glop of parrot shit dripping down the side of my face. No way in hell. That is a story that would never die, and I’d never live it down.
“Oh!” Mira covers her mouth, her wide green eyes tracking the slow drip of the bird shit as it streaks down my temple and onto my cheek. “Oh, no.”
Matt chuckles, unable to contain it this time, but to his credit, he hurries over to a table off to the side of the room and grabs a package of wet wipes. Holding them out to me, he winces when he sees my expression. “You know, they say it’s good luck to be pooped on by a bird?”
Yeah. It’s great fucking luck, Matt. Great fucking luck.
Taking the wipes from him, Mira hurries over to me and wipes the slop off my face. She cleans my skin with another wipe before grabbing a third and cleaning the mess out of my hair. Her sassy lips twitch with suppressed laughter the entire time.
“Think this is funny, wife?”
She shakes her head. Little liar. She can’t even say the word no because she has her lips pressed so tightly together to keep the laughter at bay. It’s a battle she finally loses with a little giggle snort that turns into full-bellied laughter.
“I’m sorry,” she says, gasping between bouts of laughter. “It’s just, you should have seen your face.” She makes her eyes gowide, her jaw drops open, and her top lip curls as she imitates what I must have looked like when I got shat on.
“Keep laughing, baby, and I’ll spank that luscious ass later.”
It doesn’t make her laughter stop, but it does make a pretty pink flush work up from her chest, all the way to the tips of her ears.
So I didn’t find the perfect moment to propose today. But I did learn that my wife seems turned on by the idea of being spanked, so it’s not a total loss.
I keep that little tidbit of information locked away for later while our guide leads us out of the bird enclosure and toward the sloths, Mira’s fingers intertwined with mine, a massive smile on her beautiful face.
The ring continues to burn a hole in my pocket.
forty
GRIFFIN
Our day together was amazing,but every time I considered proposing, something would ruin the moment. Whatever, it’s fine. I’ll propose tomorrow after Mira kills her pitch. She’ll be riding a high from booking a huge job, and I’ll take her somewhere romantic to celebrate. I have time.
Right now? Now I’m going to spank my wife’s sweet ass for laughing at me when the damn bird shat on my head, and then I’m going to kiss it better.
The moment we’re in our hotel suite, I shut the door behind us, turn to my wife with a wicked grin, and back her up against the door. Caging her in with my body, need thrumming through my veins like electricity in a live wire, I lower my head to meet her eyes.
“Alone at last.”
Mira gasps when I press my hips into her and nip at her jaw. She looks up at me with those big, green eyes, pupils dilated with instant desire, and I’m gone. Deceased. Absolutely fucking done for this woman.
“Do you know how many times today I almost pushed you into a bathroom and fucked you silly against the door? How much restraint it took not to slip my hand beneath the waistband of your jeans and dip my fingers into your pussy while we were at dinner?” My fingers go to the button of her pants and flick them open. Mira shifts, rubbing her thighs together as I drag the zipper down. “Do you think you could have kept quiet if I finger-fucked you in a crowded restaurant?”
