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Dash’s expression falters, and he searches my face with intensity. “I want to, but it’s going to take a while for me to save up.”
“Save up for what?” Dash is a month into his new job as manager of a local mechanic shop. The decision to leave the rescue had been a hard one that we talked about for weeks, but he eventually decided to apply for the position. He still helps my mom out on weekends and swings by the rescue to volunteer a couple of times a week.
But now he’s getting paid for work that he’s passionate about. And he’s finally stopped referring to his love of cars as an addiction.
“To get us a bigger place,” he says while his thumb brushes over my bottom lip.
“You want a bigger place?” I glance around the living room, taking in the green painted walls and the street art I’ve hung up randomly. Multiple pieces Dash had taken down, adjusted the nails, then re-hung them so they sat straight.
Dash tilts his head as he stares down at me. “I don’t care actually. But your parents’ place…” He trails off, and clearly, we’re both picturing that mansion Mom and Dad decided to make their home.
I shake my head, holding onto him with a firm grip. “I love this house. It’s the first one I moved into all on my own.” This little place is maybe half the size of the clone house Martin picked out, but the minute I visited it I fell in love. Doesn’t hurt that there’s a fenced-in back yard, perfect for Pumpkin. “I don’t want a new place. I just want you in this place. With me. All the time.”
Dash’s smile returns, and I enjoy watching it grow. “To be honest, it doesn’t sound a lot different than what we have going on now.”
I finger the edge of the shirt I’m wearing, and his eyes drop to my hands, apparently just realizing how exposed I am. “But all your clothes would be here. Which means I can steal more of them.”
The chuckle Dash lets out is full of dark satisfaction. “How can I argue with that?”
“You can’t.” Finally, I tug his face toward mine to get a taste of him, what I’ve been craving for a week while in New York. There’re thousands of restaurants in that city, but none of them have a dish as delicious as Dash.
He shifts to rise over me.
Behind him I hear an annoyed huff, and the couch creaks as Pumpkin hops off. My dog glares at us before stalking out of the room.
“Oh no,” I laugh. “Looks like you’re going to have to make some apologies before you’re allowed to move in.”
Dash lays his body down on top of mine, tracing his hand up my thigh only to plunge it under the loose fabric of my stolen shirt.
“Tomorrow. Tonight, I need to take care my woman.”
I relax under the heavy weight of him. Finally, I’m ready to let someone take care of me.
THE END
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Sneak Peek of Crazy Little Thing Called Love
By Mariah Ankenman
“I need a husband.”
Cassandra Brown dropped her purse onto the bar countertop of the Jackson Family Distillery tasting room—or Jack’s, as it was locally known—next to her best friend, Charlie. The faded leather bag made a loudthunkas it hit the thick oak. As stressful as her life was right now, she could take solace in knowing the massive amount of legal documents relating to Gran’s will doubled as a defensive device. If she kept the damn thing in her purse, it would come in handy as a mallet should she ever be mugged.
“Jeez, Cassie. What do you have in that thing? A ton of bricks?” Delta Jackson, Charlie’s younger brother, poked at her bag with a straw from his position behind the bar.
Smacking the plastic drink piece away, Cassie gave him her best death glare. Stupid jerk grinned back.
“Go away, Del. No, wait. Make me a dirty vodka martini, heavy on the dirty, and then go away.”
Sensual full lips she did not in the least think of as sexy—nope, no she did not—curled.
“Your wish is my command, Sassy Cassie.”
