I spin around.

“Which one of you would like to marry me?”










Chapter Three

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Steele

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This is too good tobe true. It’s not every day we getscoldedfor working during working hours, on a Monday no less, but then we getaccostedin almost the same breath?

Can’t say we’ve ever been propositioned in this adorable way ever.

Which one of us would like to marry her? That’s the question that’s still hanging in the air between us.

I mean, I don’t know if she’s just actually messing with us, although I think not. Ryder thinks she is, and Holt, cranky old Holt, definitely doesn’t have time for crap like this today because, as he normally does, he’s solely taken on the worry that we’re behind schedule and faced back-to-back setbacks on two other projects we’ve undertaken even though we share everything.

“Just hear me out, okay?” she says. She talks with her hands, and damn, does she have lovely hands. Slender with red-tipped nails and dainty little wrists.

“Have you heard aboutLeashed to Love?” she asks, then doesn’t wait for us to answer. “Of course you haven’t. Doesn’t look like your kind of thing.”

She’s right, and what the fuck isLeashed to Loveanyway?

“So Leashed to Love is a matchmaking company I run with my best friends in the whole wide world and beyond, Tierney Vaughn and Haley Jensen. The best girls in the world, trust me. We use our fur babies like Honeypot over here,” she snuggles the pampered French Poodle in her arms, before she continues, “to match people up, and I’ve never had more fun in my entire life. My father obviously thinks I’m wasting my business degree on this, and that just makes it all the more sweeter. More on my father later.

“So Tierney has her pup, Sweetpea, and they do everlasting love matches, with thirteen marriages under their belt, including Tierney’s herself. Squee,” she hops from foot to foot in her cartoon character slippers, clearly excited about her friend's nuptials. I can’t help but smile at her vivacity. She’s something else, all right.

“Haley has... Well, Haley’s furball is called Cupid’s Ass, or Cass for short. That little canine madame is the grumpiest of dogs I’ve ever come across. And going by her given name, Cupid’s Ass’ job is to turn her nose up at people who are not compatible at all, should not be having sex, and definitely not be married. So she prevents a whole lot of heartache and hookup remorse.

“And then there’s me and Honeypot, and we do sexual chemistry, so if you want a booty call where you get to hang from the chandelier, we’re your girls,” she says, waving her little index finger between her and her dog.

Is she serious? She runs a matchmaking company with her friends and their dogs? I’m going to humor her. Ryder seems intrigued to see what else is going to come out of her mouth, and Holt clearly wants to turn her back around and send her off the site.

Although, I can’t say I won’t mind seeing the back of her again so I can get another peek at her perfectly shaped ass. Those leggings or whatever she’s wearing are worn so thin we could see her red thong through it. After seeing her gorgeous as fuck face, her ass was just a double blow to my dick.