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They both snorted and said, “The guys will pay.”
“I don’t want his nutsack. And I don’t want your men having to bail you out of jail.”
Emma pointed at her. “Our men. You’re Mitchell’s woman. Apparently he looks at you like Tully watches Dawson.”
“And how Linc watches Emma.” Dawson settled in the chair.
“He knows nothing of what I do. I’m private.” She wiped her hands along her thighs. “I could have shared more with him while we’ve been together but, honestly, I didn’t see the point. What we have is fleeting. I’m focused on my career, not getting a guy.”
“We get that. Honestly, we do.” Emma rose and opened the fridge before carrying a pie to the table. “We all have our demons to outrun or drown. Whatever you want to call it.”
Emma sat as Dawson took over and cut large pieces and plated them. She slid a slice in front of each of them.
“It’s hard. For all of us, like Emma said. We’re not skinny women and these men are ones who normally have models on their arms.”
She nodded. “I know this. And, honestly, I wasn’t even thinking of that. Sure, I can’t lie and say I wasn’t hesitant to strip off my clothing before him—not because of who he is but because of how fucking hot he is. I’m comfortable with myself as a person. I love my size. I’m healthy and I live my life how I want. I’m scared to let him get any deeper in me.”
Both women lifted their eyebrows and she snorted before busting out laughing.
“Not what I meant!” she cried.
“’Cause she likes him deep,” Dawson chortled.
While they laughed and teased her, she ate a bite of the chocolate tart, only to moan in raw pleasure. “Oh damn, this is so good.”
“Chocolate and chili tart with lime zest.”
It wasn’t until she was on her second piece with a cup of coffee that they’d moved to the living room and were seated around the low rectangular table there.
“Tell us more about being a science journalist.”
“I love it. I write about animal behavior and sometimes I take the photos. I’m also a wildlife reporter. My main focus is on wildlife conservation and ecology. I did study human behavior for a while—one of my degrees is in psychology—but I prefer animals of the non-Homo sapiens variety.”
“Fucking impressive.” Dawson picked up her mug and drank. “Mitchell picked a great woman in you, Doctor Hope Roman.”
“Hope is fine.”
“Fuck that. I’m friends with a doctor. I’m going to be yelling that shit everywhere.”
Emma tucked her feet under her, nodding with an amused grin on her lips. Once she settled, she wrapped her hands around the mug and tapped one shiny, sparkling blue nail against the ceramic burgundy mug with a symbol of a roaring lion in dark gray. A Pennsylvania Dutchmen mug. “She will, that’s true.”
I love how these women use their men’s team memorabilia in everyday life. Somehow, Hope figured it was better not to argue with these women. Besides, what was the point? She was a doctor and they were feeding her the most delicious tart. Also, for a brief moment, it was nice to imagine she could be the one using things from the Monterey Leviathans.
Why rock the boat?
Chapter Sixteen
Mitchell opened the door two days later and frowned, recognizing the State Patrol uniform of the man before him. The man was tall, fit, and held a box in one hand, and at his leg sat a battered, well-worn terracotta duffel.
“Good afternoon, I’m Deputy Lucan.” A flash of recognition in his blue eyes. “Mitchell Anderson, nice to meet you—I’ve followed your career. Anyway, sorry it took so long to get this to you. It’s from a rental car that went over the side, belonging to one Hope Roman.”
A mixture of emotions hit him. On the one hand, he knew she wanted her items and he was happy she would get them. On the other, it was a tick on the clock of their time coming to an end.
Something I most definitely don’t want.
He’d shown her all over town, made love with her in every single room in his home. A place that he thought of as theirs not his, because in the brief time she’d been here, she had turned it into a home, as opposed to a house. She got along famously with Emma and Dawson. Mrs. Faulkner and Mr. Conner both loved her as well. But he couldn’t deny there was something she was keeping from him.
The times when he woke at night and his bed was empty from her curves and heat, he would find her standing by the window, one hand pressed against the chilled glass and the other over her mouth as if trying to keep her pain inside.
He wanted to protect her. Defend her from anything. Fight all her battles for her.
