Page 167 of Duty and Desire
She wasn’t a fan of all the rest. Though she was, until he told her some woman he met at a furniture store kitted out his place. After that, she hated it.
At that juncture, Mo was wondering why he’d put up with her.
Then again, he’d had his first full night’s sleep in years (albeit interrupted by some great head and an even better fuck), so maybe he hadn’t been on his game.
And he hadn’t yet met Lottie and cottoned on to what he might be missing.
No, what he could earn.
No.
What he deserved.
“Dude,” Lottie said as she wandered back into the open-plan space, “next time I revamp something at my house, you’re decorating it.”
“Woman named Bobbi did it,” he told her, and watched her as he did.
“Another ex?” she asked, entirely unconcerned, and coming to stand at the corner of the island next to him.
“A woman in a furniture store who’d just registered for her wedding. Gave her a clean slate.” He tipped his head to the space. “She filled it.”
“First, I’m in fits of glee you know what registering is,” she began. “Second, you probably made her year, and since she was getting married, that says something.”
Through his smile he replied, “First, I have three married sisters. I know what seating charts and cake tastings are too.”
She smiled back at him, huge.
“Second, Josh, Bobbi’s husband, thanked me at the wedding, seein’ as she took care of my place, she wouldn’t feel the need to do theirs all in one go.”
“The gift of your all-around awesomeness just keeps on giving,” she returned.
At that, he bent and pressed a kiss to her mouth.
Then he went to his mail.
Flipping through it, he asked, “You down with me getting online for a few minutes so I can pay some bills?”
“I’ve got until next Tuesday,” she murmured, drifting toward the living room area.
When Smithie heard about her meltdown (this he got from Jet), he’d called Lottie to tell her he didn’t want to see her until her first set next Tuesday.
Mo had to go in the next day, but he figured Hawk wouldn’t put him on an assignment that would jam up his weekend because Hawk didn’t do that shit. He’d been on duty twenty-four seven for a week. Hawk would give him his weekend or if he didn’t, he’d lay light duty on him.
Next week, though, Mo would be fair game.
Which, with Lottie in his life, would suck.
But they had that day, all of it. And they’d gotten the worst part out of the way, going to see Mitch and Slim at the station after they’d had breakfast and showered.
Now it was just Mo and his girl.
“Gonna grab my laptop,” he said to Lottie, watching her stretch out on his couch, her eyes to his view. “Want a drink?”
“No, Mo. I’m good.”
He got his laptop from his room, brought it to the island and booted it up as he ripped open envelopes.
“So, sisters, mom, registries, cake tastings, nieces and nephews,” she started, and Mo again looked at her to see her gaze still aimed at his view. “What about your dad?”
