Page 43 of Offside Bride

“Bringing you snacks,” I say, putting a few grapes and pistachios on the landing of his cage. He makes kissing sounds and starts to eat contentedly, dropping pistachio shells on the floor.

I’ll clean that up after I finish my wine. I’m not really expecting Sawyer to come home for hours, and I kind of don’t care anymore at this point. But when I hear the front door slam open half an hour later, I can’t help but feel a wicked thrill of satisfaction.

Heavy footsteps storm through the house, then Sawyer bounds into the sitting room, his eyes wild. When he spots me on the sofa, he freezes, his gaze traveling from my painted lips down to my bare leg.

“You wore that dress to torture me, didn’t you?” he growls, his voice low and rough.

I take a slow sip of my wine, savoring the moment. “Now, why would I do that?” I ask innocently, batting my eyelashes.

“Marriage is an alliance entered into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut and a woman who can't sleep with the window open.”

— GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

14

MAGGIE

Otto makes a clicking noise. “Squawk off. Mommy and bird.”

Sawyer’s jaw tightens. Ignoring Otto, he stalks toward me, each step deliberate and predatory. I resist the urge to squirm under his hot glower.

“You keep misbehaving just to get my attention…Well now you have it, Trouble.”

His voice is low, dangerous, and oh so sexy. How dare he make me feel this way when he’s the one who stood me up?

Before I can formulate a witty comeback, Sawyer plucks the wine glass from my hand and sets it on the side table. In one fluid motion, he pulls me to my feet, his large hand cupping my jaw and tilting my face up to his.

“You’ve been so naughty,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “I should put you over my knee right now like I promised I would. Remember?”

My eyes widen. Oh, I remember all right. The thought sends a jolt of heat straight to my core. Part of me wants to melt into him, to give in to the heat building between us. But another part—the part that’s still smarting from his casual dismissal earlier—refuses to let him win so easily. I can’t let him see how much he affects me. I’m a woman scorned, after all.

“Naughty bird,” Otto says, then goes into his cage to whistle.

I lean into Sawyer slightly, letting my body brush against his. “Oh, I remember,” I purr, watching his pupils dilate. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

There’s a flicker of triumph in his eyes. He thinks he’s won. But the second his grip loosens, I duck under his arm and bolt out of the room, my laughter trailing behind me.

I dash through the house, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors, heart pounding with adrenaline. There’s a thrill coursing through me, a mix of excitement and defiance.

“Maggie!” Sawyer’s voice booms behind me. “Get back here!”

“Make me!” I shout back, giggling as I round a corner.

I hear Sawyer's heavy footsteps behind me, gaining ground.

“Come back here, woman!” he calls out.

I skid around a corner, nearly wiping out on the slick floor. “Catch me if you can, hockey boy!”

Then, I spot Sawyer’s hockey gear by the hallway closet door and an idea strikes. I grab one of his heavy ice skates and bolt back to the front of the house.

He’s hot on my heels, but I've got the advantage of being nimble and small. But as I find myself in the living room, I realize I have nowhere to hide. I spin around, brandishing the skate like a weapon just as he enters the room.

“Whoa there, Trouble,” he says, holding up his hands. “What are you planning to do with that?”

“Stay back, or I’ll…I’ll…give you a really bad haircut!”

Sawyer’s eyebrows shoot up. “With a skate? That’s a new one.”

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