Page 60 of Unstable

I speed home in the fast approaching darkness, no idea where the day went.

When I pull up to my house, Keaton’s truck is there, and before I have mine in park—he’s stomping toward me.

Uh oh, Keaton angry.

He flings open my door, eyes blazing with fury. Yet he forces himself to grit out past a clenched jaw, “I'm glad to see you’re home safe. I was very worried.” And since he got through the niceties, he now fires up for the impolite, alpha part. “Now would you mind telling me where in the ever-loving fuck you’ve been all day, and why you weren’t answering your phone?”

“Not that I have to answer to you, I again remind you, but I got caught up visiting with Donna and lost track of time. How’s Bourbon? Do you know if Gatlin came by and checked on him like he promised?”

“I took care of Bourbon. Didn’t need any help,” he seethes.

“Do I want to know how you got in the house?”

“Very stealthily. You left the door unlocked. Why didn’t you ask me to watch the dog, Henley?”

“Because Gatlin’s already here and gets paid.” I stop and add to my mental list—I haven’t paid him since I’ve been here. Need to ask Merrick about those arrangements too and take them over.

“Dog’s not part of his job, dog’s personal. Personal’s my territory.”

Oh brother. If I wasn’t tired, anxious to check on Bourbon and…his territorialism wasn’t just a little bit hot, I’d put up a fight.

But I don’t.

“Got it, don’t wanna argue. Now, can I go in my house and see Bourbon for myself?” I try to scoot past him, but he's not having it.

“We really need to make up or it’s going to spoil things,” his voice softens and his eyes adopt a silky quality.

“Okay, I’m sorry I worried you, and I just said I got it. There, we’re made up.”

“Not even close,” he grunts, grabbing me and lifting me off my feet to take my mouth as he sees fit.

And it’s a perfect fit.

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