Page 9 of Rogue's Path
Definitely without the stalker.
I should ask in a few author groups what people do about them before I have to go home. This could possibly be all in my head. Something that happens to every author…I hope not.
If they aren’t coming up for air anytime soon, I might as well check now.
A kiss like this is something romance authors dream of recording. It’s too bad I write mysteries. It’s completely wasted on me.
Well, not completely, that’s one steamy kiss.
Dahlia’s poor bun will never be the same again. I doubt she minds in the least.
They probably won’t notice if I call a cab and leave.
That’s what I should do. Instead, I shove a fork into the Pad Thai and start to eat. It’s good. Very good. Dahlia has another talent.
Though she’s probably demonstrating the one Maverick married her for.
Maybe I should have been a romance writer. Unlike Savie, I could write steamy romance. None of my parents would complain. The four of them are so completely civil that if I decided to become a madam, they’d find something to praise me for.
That or they would all turn on me with united disappointment. That’s more likely. I’d make a terrible madam, anyway. I’d spend more time talking to the women about independence, self-empowerment, and all that nonsense I’d never find them clients. Who’d want to find a man that would pay a woman for sex? That’s just gross.
And I’ve officially gone off the deep end. It’s all Maverick and Dahlia’s fault. They’re still kissing. Is this a world record or something? It should be if it isn’t.
Their food is getting cold.
Yeah, they don’t care at all.
Dahlia probably doesn’t have any lipstick left. Another thing she doesn’t care about.
Wow. Dahlia doesn’t care about much right now. I might as well enjoy this meal enough for all of us.
Pathetic. This is totally pathetic.
“Dahlia, your friend doesn’t seem to be enjoying dinner.”
My fork clatters onto the plate. This is going so well.
“My friend?”
And Dahlia forgot I exist. Impressive.
I might like this scary man after all.
Maverick spins her around to face me. “Oh.” A blush steals up her face.
“Does he have a brother?”
Dahlia bursts out laughing, and I join her.
Maverick stares at the two of us like we grew six heads. Which is kind of fair, we are a bit nutty.
“He has a sister named Sweetums, but sadly, no brother. The world could use more men like my husband.”
Sweetums? That’s a weird name. Then again, Dahlia called Maverick Vex at one time. And my name is Dylan.
“Dahl.”
“What? It does.” She taps him on the chest. “Dinner’s ready.”
