Page 90 of All Tied Down

“Oh, don’t be like that,” I purr, parroting his words back to him as he narrows his eyes.

“It was funny when I said it.” He pouts and I nod even though we both don’t believe me. “What about you? Are you just perfect, Miss Andrews? No flaws to speak of?”

“Oh, I have plenty.” I snort out a laugh as I grab a crewneck from the dwindling pile. “Why do you think I’ve been single most of my adult life? I’m a nightmare.”

“Go on…”

“Like I hate putting the cap back on the toothpaste, but I also hate clutter so the tube goes right into the drawer sans cap.”

“You’re a monster.” He mock gasps and I shrug.

“I always throw the ends of the bread out unless it’s like an artisan bread then it’s determined on a case by case basis.”

“Naturally.”

“I drink orange juice right from the bottle because I never want a whole glass, and it feels like a waste to dirty one for just a sip.”

“Is that all?” he asks, not even trying to keep the amusement from his face.

“Not even close.”

“Well, it’s nice to know you’re human, Em.”

“You’re still sleeping on the couch.” I sniff as he bats the rest of the clothes off the bed and crawls across the mattress.

“I’d like to plead my case.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“I can be very persuasive.”

“You think so, huh?” I whisper as he reaches me and straightens so he’s on his knees before me.

“I do.” With his hands sliding around my waist and a wolfish grin on his lips, he adds, “Wanna see?”

As a matter of fact, I do.

35

EMERSON

“Three of the properties need some serious work before we can list them,” Des says through the speaker as I listen, respond to an email, and try not to bark at Nico to drive faster because we’re late getting home.

Garrett’s house.

Not home.

Shit.

I thought I had more time but we hit traffic leaving the salon, and it just seems like I can’t catch a break. Tonight is a scheduled event, sure, but I’ve also been looking forward to it. It’s a local artisan gallery—a mix of veteran artists and new talent all mingled together with local farm-to-table food and craft liquor and beer.

It’s high-end without being overly pretentious, and proceeds from the auction items will benefit art programs around the city. I won’t bid on any of the items—just hand over a check outright—but I will leave with a couple of things from the artists themselves.

Will they just go to my apartment or do I display them in Ironwood for the short time we have left and then take them?

Both options feel icky so I push it from my mind for now.

“Who can we contact?”