Page 132 of Average Joe

Threats, threats, threats. What a piece of work. I was done. Cheeks aflame, I promised, “You hear this,littleman. Go anywhere near my son, so much as speak to him, you’ll beg for death by the time I’m finished with you.”

Harper stood straight, laughing. “Deal.” He headed back around his vehicle, still chuckling, then shouted over the hood, “I like you, kid. It’s a damn shame we can’t work together.”

I responded with a middle finger. Classy, I know.

He rapped his knuckles on the hood twice, then made an undramatic exit, rolling into morning traffic and hopefully out of my life for good.

* * *

“I told you not to go anywhere alone,” Joe growled at me from his spot on the sofa.

He was livid. Understandably so. I’d waited until after dinner to bring up my conversation with Harper. Perhaps I should’ve given him another day or two.

“Joe, listen.” I skirted the coffee table and straddled his thighs, resting my butt on his knees. I raked my fingers through the scruff on his face and reminded him, “I have a business to run, and you’ve been busy healing from a bullet wound.”

“No. You listen.” He curled his strong fingers into my hips, tugged me to his groin, and hit me with those worried blue eyes. “You just need to stay safe, please. It would kill me if anything happened to you.”

Oh, my heart.

“Joe—” I started on a sigh.

“What if Harper had wanted to hurt you?” he interrupted. “You were defenseless.”

I wanted to remind him that Harper wouldn’t risk a public display but chose wiser words, hoping they’d soothe the riled beast. “I trusted what you told me—I was untouchable because of your father.”

His hard features softened, and those bunched shoulders dropped. And when he didn’t respond, I whispered, “Harper said he would leave me alone, and I believed him. You were right about your dad.”

Lips drawn tight, Joe nodded, cupped my cheeks, and dropped a kiss on my nose, then on my forehead, lingering there. Eyes closed, I breathed him in. His breath wreaked of garlic, and I suspected he’d snuck a third helping of linguini and pesto while I was outside with the dogs.

“You’re an amazing man, Joe Kaine.”

In one fluid motion, Joe flipped, tossing me on the cushions and crashing over me, a man on a mission. “You’re so fucking into me it’s embarrassing.” Hair fell over his face as he stared down at me, fighting a grin.

“You’re so pussy-whipped it’s pathetic,” I teased back.

Joe yawned, dropping his head into my neck.

“Let’s get to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Beautiful and weary, he nodded, then pushed off the couch. He grabbed my hands, helped me up, then tugged me toward the stairs. I followed without a fuss. I’d follow him anywhere. When we reached the bedroom, he steered me inside, where he stripped my dress, slow and lazy, then removed my bra and panties. Joe kissed me dizzy against the wall while I fumbled to remove his shirt. His running pants and boxers proved easier to remove.

My guy was exhausted. I sucked him off where we stood and refused when he tried to return the favor. He needed a good night’s sleep more than I needed an orgasm.

We fell into bed, and Joe held me close. I only drifted off when his arms loosened and soft snores filled the silence.

Morning came too soon. Dogs barked outside. Joe’s side of the bed was empty and rumpled. I snagged a T-shirt out of his drawer and trotted down the stairs, yawning, searching for signs of life. The back door was open, screen, too, and as I drew nearer, Ginger caught my attention, working her little paws in a fresh, deep hole near a rose bush.

“No, Ginger,” I scolded, scooping her up and nuzzling her into my neck. “Not Alice’s rose bushes. Naughty girl,” I said, kissing her nose.

Bruce barked from my side of the fence, and I headed for the open gate, the dewy grass cold and muddy. Men’s voices reached my ears, one familiar, both of them tense.

The strange voice shouted, “You took her from me. She’s mine and you stole her right out from under me.”

Joe replied, “Relax, man. Let’s sit down and talk about this.”

When the men came into view, my heart sputtered. Joe stood barefoot and shirtless next to my firepit, basketball shorts hanging low on his waist, his hands in the air, level with this shoulders. Logan Shaw, aka Prius Guy, stood with his back to me, arms raised, gun pointed at Joe.

Bruce bounced back and forth between them, vying for attention.

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