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Chapter31
LANDON
He’d dropped a doozy.
He’d wanted to get her attention.
He was walking a thin line. Pissing off Harper Presley was like kicking a hornet’s nest, but he had a feeling this gamble would pay off.
The muscles in Harper’s throat constricted as she swallowed. She dropped his hand and lifted her chin. He knew this posture. She was putting up her defenses—playing the part of the tough girl.
But he saw past her ruse.
What gave her away?
Her bottom lip had trembled.
It was a barely perceptible move, but he caught it.
She cocked her head to the side. “What does that mean?”
That fine line he was walking got a little—no, a lot thinner.
He slipped his phone from his pocket and checked the time.
“Do you have somewhere to go, heartthrob? Plans for later?” she snapped.
Hell, yes, he had plans—plans that should be going off any minute.
“I’m checking on a…bang.” He cringed. Dammit, now he’d really be skating on thin ice.
His goose might be cooked.
His wife looked ready to knee him in the balls. “A bang?” she snarled. “Are you telling me you’ve got an Italian harem with legions of women waiting for a bang?”
“Not that kind of bang,” he answered when—thank God—three jarring pops sliced through the night air.
Harper shrieked and clutched his arm, nearly knocking the pastry box out of his hand as white light illuminated her face and shimmering firecrackers pierced the sky.
“Is this the bang?” she whispered as four rapid cracks answered her question and, again, the sky glittered in a barrage of color.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Her tone had lost the homicidal bend—his ball sac was safe, for now.
“What’s this for?” she pressed.
“It’s for you.”
“For me?”
“I arranged it. Because you asked for it.”
A trio of sharp pops sent a field of green glittering above them.
“Why?” she breathed.
“You mentioned that fireworks were a part of your romance scale of devotion.”
