Page 87 of Not Mine to Keep

I’m not a fan of sharing, even her voice, but I guess ...“She’s not mine to keep,” I said under my breath.

“I don’t understand.”

“Ignore me.” I looked over at him and nodded. “And thank you; I know you’ll keep her safe.”

“Oh, there he is. The man we’ve been talking about,” my father called out, and I looked over to see Calliope hanging back behind him, like he was her shield.

Yeah, someone needed to protect her from me, especially in that outfit, but I never thought it’d be my dad.

“Who you’ve been laughing about, you mean,” I corrected him, then stalked their way, feeling the ridiculous need to snatch her hand and drag her back to my office and lay into her about ... well, something.

“Never.” Dad winked at her. “The laugh was about a story she was telling me involving a cow, chicken, and what was the third animal? Right, a coyote.”

“I grew up on a farm,” she tossed out, reading my puzzled look.

I blinked, oddly hurt she’d never told me that before, which was ridiculous. Almost as absurd as whatever story she’d told my father. “And how’d that pop up in conversation?”

“Not really sure,” she said, and I hated that the quick look toward my father and their smile at one another had my pulse flying the way it did.

This was why I didn’t want her near Mom or Izzy. It was too damn easy to get attached to this woman. She could capture the hearts of millions with a smile alone. But a laugh? Fuck, she could end wars.A siren, all right.“I need a word with my wife before we leave.” I faced Javier. “We’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

“Roger that,” Javier answered with a nod.

“Well, Calliope, have a wonderful show tonight.” Dad held her forearm, then leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. Then my old man shoulder-checked me while walking by, and I felt his message loud and clear:Don’t break her heart.

“Come on.” I tipped my head, motioning for her to follow me to my office, and it took us a good ten minutes to walk fifty steps because the woman kept talking to everyone she met on the way.

“Sit,” I hissed once we were alone, her shoulders startling when I palmed the door shut with too much intensity.

She glared at me, shooting me daggers instead of offering the same taste of sweetness she’d given my father and the five other people she’d talked to in passing on our way there. “You didn’t come home last night.”

The potential Gabriel problem was now a distant memory withthisproblem standing before me in that light-yellow sundress—that better not be see-through when the light hits it—and cowgirl boots. Her wavy blonde locks covered her breasts and hid her ears, but I’d bet a million dollars she had those little music-note studs on she loved to wear.

“You going to talk or keep staring at me like you hate me?” she asked, enough sassy energy in her voice to power half of New York.

“Ever going to do as I asked and sit?”

She whipped her arms in defiance across her chest and lifted her chin, not budging. “Maybe my ass hurts too much to do that.”

“Thin ice, dammit,” I warned, angry for giving in and spanking her, because what if I had hurt her? Of course, from the feel of her pussy, that part of her, at least, had enjoyed it.

“The ice broke last night, or have you forgotten?” she hissed back.

I bowed my head and gripped my temples. I couldn’t face off with Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey right now, not in that dress and wearing those boots, with my handprint on her ass cheek, and that tone of voice of hers that had me wanting to christen this desk, too. Yesterday had been a mistake, but I’d hoped I’d at least get her out of my system. Instead, I was pretty sure I wanted her now more than I had before.What is wrong with me?

“Why didn’t you come home?” She tamed her tone that time. The sound of her boots clicking across my floors had me looking up to see her finally sitting, and she didn’t appear to be uncomfortable.

But hell, I was now. Bad idea to have her sit. I wanted to drop to the floor before her, spread her legs open, and taste her again.

“You just dismissed me like I was a prostitute and you were done with me.”

The break in her voice would’ve done me in just fine, but those words? Fuck me, they were bullets to the chest.

“What?” I swallowed the fist-size lump down my throat, and against my better judgment, walked over to the couch to look her in the eyes.

Her hands were on her lap, and she fidgeted with the rings, not giving me her attention. “I know you think last night was a mistake, and you’re probably now over whatever, uh, desire you had for me. The thrill of the chase is gone. And I—”

“Stop.” Because really, I couldn’t handle any more. Not another word based on the direction she was heading. “Please,” I tacked on, doing my best to deploy a little more kindness in my voice that time.

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