Or the Feds.
This meant Lottie’s sister couldn’t know.If she did, she’dbe on the phone with her husband faster than Lottie went down when her nephewtackled her.
This meant they needed a cover.
And being unprepared for this visit, he had no other coverto give even if Lottie hadn’t already decided, and communicated, what cover hewas going to have.No man like him would be with a woman like her just asfriends helping her grocery shop unless he was gay.
He put out a hand.“Nice to meet you.”
She stared at it, looked at her sister, then took it andlooked in his eyes before her lashes swept down, and pink hit her cheeks.
“Yeah, nice to meet you.”
Sweet.Shy.Pretty.Filled out jeans great.
No wonder Chavez went for that.
But the sisters couldn’t be more different.
Yin and yang.
The kind of perfect balance that made life worth living.
He gave her hand a light squeeze, let her go and turned toLottie.
“Gonnahelp the boys.”
Not missing a beat, or an opportunity, she moved into him,leaned into him, pressing her breasts against hands flattened on his chest,gazing up at him with sparkling hazel eyes, and breathing, “You do that,pookie-loo.”
If she was his, all of that would earn her a spanking.
Mo filed that away as he controlled his body’s reaction toher that close, the feel of her, how much he liked that look in her eyes, thesmell of her perfume with hints of her shampoo, and he moved away to supervisethe carrying in of groceries.
“Why didn’t you just go in?”he heard Lottie ask her sister.
“I keep forgetting your security code,” Jet answered.
“You’re a dork.”
“Youkeep track of three boys, their laundry, theirmess, their mouths that demand food, football practice, a house, a husband wholikes your body a whole lot more after you gave him three sons, and he liked ita lot before you did that, and a full-time job working with TexandDuke, most of the time with those two together and bickering at each other, andremember your sister’s security code,” Jet retorted.
“You could text me…”
Mo lost track of the conversation as he hit the truck andthey went inside.
His job became mostly controlling squabbling brothers whoall (even the youngest) thought they could carry in six bags apiece, and theydidn’t even have that many, and making sure the youngest didn’t fall flat onhis face grunting and groaning with the two bags he demanded to carry whilethey got the shit into the house.
They put the bags on the kitchen floor, an odd choice, oneMo got when he realized this was a relatively practiced dance and the boyscouldn’t reach the counters, and they all went into unpacking mode.Theyunpacked, but it was only Jet and Lottie, under Lottie’s strict placement plan,who put away.
“So, are you a professional wrestler?”Alex asked him.
“No,” Mo answered.
“A soldier?”Dante asked, his eyes on the gun on Mo’s beltthat was in its holster looped through Mo’s cargo pants.
“No,” Mo repeated.
“He’s a commando,” Lottie announced.
