Page 30 of Full Mountie

“Every dirty detail.” He laughs. “Or whatever you’re comfortable with. I often forget that other people have different boundaries than me.”

“I think I like your boundaries.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“I’m getting dressed for work. You?”

“At work already. I’m at 24 Sussex today.”

“Quiet day.”

“Very. I’m all alone in the guardhouse. What are you wearing?”

“At the moment?” I look down at my naked body. “Nothing.”

After a delightful wake-me-up round of phone foreplay with Hugh, I finally get dressed. I send Lachlan a quick text, too, once I arrive at work. He’s swamped, and we decide on dinner Friday for sure, and maybe sooner if he can squeeze it in.

I finally sit down at my desk just as Gavin’s wrapping up his daily briefing with his senior team. When he started as the PM, I made sure I was here for those, too, but after two months of me routinely working twelve and fourteen hour days, Gavin put his foot down. Now I try to be at my desk at half past seven or quarter to eight, and I’m pretty good at leaving before six most nights. It’s still more hours than I’ve ever worked in the past, but I don’t want to miss anything.

In a small way, I’m a part of making history. I take that seriously.

But it’s not all work and no play. Mid-morning, I’m distracted from work again. Not by a sexy man, or another sexy man, but by an email from Violet Roberts, Gavin’s best friend’s new wife.

From: Violet Roberts

To: Beth Evans

Sasha and I have convinced Ellie to let us throw her a wedding shower, so I’m hoping you might have time to meet for lunch or dinner this week so I can sweetly talk you into helping us plan it? It’s going to be a tea at the Chateau Laurier. First Sunday in June. And could I ask you to put together a list of women from Gavin’s side to invite?

I take a quick look at my calendar. Since Gavin’s trying to cram a lot in to the week before he leaves on his trip out west, lunch is out.

From: Beth Evans

To: Violet Roberts

How about dinner either tonight or tomorrow? Lunch is hard this week, but totally open next week.

That sounds lovely, by the way. Exactly her speed and style.

We settle on dinner tonight, because Violet wants to nail everything down. Efficient and orderly—I can’t fault her for that.

The rest of my day speeds by, and at six, I wave goodnight to the security guards and leave Centre Block behind me.

I hadn’t seen Lachlan all day, but now as I walk down the path towards the central business district—and Violet’s law office, just two short blocks away—I see Lachlan’s big, broad form walking swiftly toward me.

I wave, and stop, waiting for him.

“Hello,” he says with a smile. He’s ditched his suit jacket at some point. He’s in fitted trousers and a dress shirt, but the sleeves are rolled up and his top button is undone.

He looks completely fuckable and I’m very, very sorry I agreed to dinner plans. “Hey yourself.”

“Where are you off to?”

“Dinner with Violet. Wedding shower planning.”

“Ah.” His grin broadens. “Need my tiara?”

A laugh bubbles up from deep in my belly. “I’ll borrow it, but you’re getting it back.”

---