Page 15 of Imagine Me and You

It wasn’t fair.

She let out a breath and opened the door to the house, cringing when Poppy bounded in and left several paw prints in the entryway.

“No,” she whined, grabbing Poppy’s collar. “Hang on.” She marched the dog into the laundry room and got a towel to clean her paws. “You need a bath,” she said. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Samantha wiped up the floor on her way back by the entry door, then marched Poppy up the stairs and into the guest bathroom, right next to the room she’d claimed as her own for the duration of her stay.

“Okay, chica, let’s get this mud off you.”

A half an hour later, she had a clean and mostly dry dog snoozing at the foot of her bed. And she had a bathtub with a dirt ring to contend with.

She grabbed the flexible shower head and started to spray along the edge of the tub until most of the ring was gone. Now there was just a bit of black hair sticking to everything. That was always the problem with bathing Poppy. The water drew out enough hair to build a whole new dog.

She hummed as she sprayed the tub, jumping when she heard Jace’s voice.

“Did you bathe your dog in the house?”

She flipped the switch on the shower head and stopped the flow, diverting the water to the tub. “What? Yes. Did you want me to leave her muddy?”

“I bathed her in the stable yesterday. I didn’t bathe her inside.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Jace. Unclench,” she said, a rush of anger washing over her. Anger directed at him for being such an ass about the house. And for being so sexy. And so off-limits. And anger at herself for wanting him when she knew it was impossible.

She was suddenly very angry about all the things and there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it from leaking out.

“It smells like wet dog in here.”

“Does it? It’s about to smell like wet cowboy.” She flipped the switch on the sprayer again and aimed it at his chest, making a nice little damp spot right in the same place she’d smacked him with batter the other day, then turned the water off again.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he said.

“Believe it. I’ll do it again too.”

“Sam...”

She sprayed him again.

“Samantha.”

Again, and she could have sworn he smiled as he crossed the bathroom, reaching out toward her watery weapon even though he was trying to give her his very best angry eyebrows. “No!” she shrieked, spraying him the whole time he was advancing on her. He grabbed her arm and spun her so that she was locked against his chest, facing away from him. And then she was unceremoniously disarmed, held captive against his wet chest, the sprayer against her breasts.

“You wouldn’t,” she said.

“You did.”

“But I’m mean. And you’re usually not.”

“Nah, baby,” he said, his voice low, resonating in his chest, vibrating against her back and sending a million little sparks through her body, “I’m a mean son of a bitch. And don’t you forget it.”

“You are not.” She wiggled, her butt coming into contact with what was either a hard belt buckle or...or...oh my. She wiggled some more, not so much to get free as to identify just what all was hard back there. Because no matter how much sheshouldn’twant him to be hard against her ass, she kind of wanted him to be hard.

He flipped the diverter on the sprayer and a shot of cold water hit her between her breasts. “Dammit!”

“I told you.”

“But I didn’t believe you!”

“You pushed me.”

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