Page 31 of Fiona and the Fixer

Oh boy.

“Dottie, you don’t have to–”

“I need to get your number to make things easier.” She pulled her cell from a fanny pack about her waist.

Hmm, probably not a good idea.

“I’m making veggie and bean burritos,” she added.

On second thought…

I gave her my number.

“Tomorrow night’s craft night so I’ll call you before I pick you up,” she said as she tucked her phone away. “I’ll stop by in a little bit!” She walked off as she waved. Scooter trotted along beside her, not even interested in the squirrel that darted across the street.

What the hell just happened?

I was still wondering how I was wrangled into craft night, whatever that was, when I parked in the driveway and opened the vacation rental’s front door.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone sitting on the couch. I grabbed my gun, spun about and aimed.

“Hello, Fiona.”

Sitting… no, lounging on the denim sectional was Dax in all his sexy, annoying glory. Smirking.

The asshole.

17

DAX

If looks could kill,I’d be dead. Except instead of the glare scaring me, it turned me the fuck on. Especially since Fiona pulled her gun on me.

I never had the hots for anyone in law enforcement before, but I sure as hell did now.

“You seem ready to shoot people a lot,” I commented.

While I might now know why she was armed and so skilled with taking down a perp, I wasn’t going to tell her that. She hadn’t mentioned it in any of the time we’d been together. Sure, the first time had been during an armed robbery and the second we’d fucked, and she hadn’t said much more thanharderanddeeper.

No, a fixer knew when to hold onto intel and when to share it. I never knew when I might need leverage.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, not lowering her weapon.

“For a woman who I made come twice not three hours ago, you’re remarkably unhappy to see me.”

“How did you get in?” She glanced around looking for a broken window or something. As if I’d be that sloppy. Locks didn’t keep me out.

Slowly, I shook my head. “You seem tense. Come climb on my dick and I’ll make it all better.”

Instead of doing that, she kept prodding. “Circling back to my first question, what are you doing here?”

I lifted my chin. “My gun is bigger than yours, sweetheart. I know you like it that way.”

She rolled her eyes, sighed, and lowered her arm. “Jesus Christ, Dax.”

“You did call me God a few times.”

She turned her back on me and went into the kitchen. It was when I heard the fridge door open, then the beeps of a microwave did I realize she wasn’t coming back.

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