Page 62 of Fiona and the Fixer

“And another beer,” Mindy offered with a huge smile, clinking her bottle with mine.

“This was… fun, Dottie,” I admitted, feeling ridiculous and not caring.

She slung her arm around me and gave me a motherly squeeze. Asqueeze.“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you.”

She was proud of me.

“I think the judges liked green paint or glitter. They’re all… something,” I said, admiring the line of decorated pumpkins and trying not to think about why I had new squishy feelings I never had before.

She shook her head and met my eyes. “You’re special and they see that. We all do.”

Oh my.

I swallowed hard. No one had ever called me special before. Or said they were proud of me. I barely remembered my mother and my father only said I ruined his life, and I was worthless and would never amount to anything or was an embarrassment.

I swallowed hard. “Thanks, Dottie.”

27

DAX

“How did you get in?”Fiona murmured, mostly asleep. She didn’t open her eyes as I slid beneath the covers, pulling her back so I was the big spoon.

I wanted to spank her ass for doubting my ability to get past a lock, but she was warm and sleepy, and I hadn’t seen this version of her.

The fact that she hadn’t startled and grabbed for her gun–which rested on the bedside table–made me smile. She trusted me, at least when she was asleep.

“Usual,” I replied, not giving up my lock-breaking secrets. With my arm thrown over her waist, my hand had no choice but to cup her breast through a thin cotton camisole. No choice.

I could’ve slept at Jack’s place when I got back in town. I’d stopped in to check on Pancake, but he didn’t come out to greet me, so after giving him food and refreshing his water dish, I turned around and left.

This tit hold was the reason I wasn’t hanging out with a fickle cat. Fiona was warm. Fucking cozy. She smelled like… wildness. Why would I want to spend the night solo in my friend’s guest room?

Pussy or pussy?

As I settled, I took a moment to consider my feelings. I never imagined I’d think those words.Consider my feelings.Wasn’t that something people did in yoga? In therapy?

For me, it took a big bed with a pliant, feisty woman.

And a return call from Nitro with the info he pulled on Jonathan Neidermeyer, her loser partner. I never really had much sympathy for law enforcement. Not since Mom was killed and they’d had to follow the law when it came to drunk drivers, even though everyone knew the guy ran her off the road with more alcohol than blood in his veins.

Over the years, I did my thing and let them do theirs.

Fiona seemed to be changing that, because from what Nitro dug up, Neidermeyer was a sleazy dick. Fiona could take care of herself, no question. But I wanted–no, needed–to protect her. It pissed me off that her partner would fuck her over. Ruin her career. Talk shit to her. Hell, even bring her a shitty cup of coffee.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I couldn’t stop craving her. I missed her annoying personality when shewas out of my sight. Wondered what kind of trouble she was up to because I wasn’t watching.

She needed a keeper. A protector. A lover.

That was me.

“Dottie brought you food if you’re hungry,” she murmured, curving her butt back into my dick.

I hadn’t had dinner, but it wasn’t spaghetti and meat sauce I craved.

Shifting, I gently shifted Fiona onto her back, then pushed the covers down.

Lower and lower to discover all she wore with her top was a pair of little panties.

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