Page 12 of His Favorite Mistake

We parked in the driveway beside my house. By my best guess, the small ranch wasn’t exactly the type of home she normally spent time in.

She didn’t say a word as she climbed down from the vehicle. I shut the door behind her and retrieved her guitar from the back, figuring she was probably used to people holding open doors and carrying things for her. I would have anyway. My mother had taught me well.

A lady deserved to be pampered, and Peyton was definitely a lady through and through.

Following her up the solar lit flagstone walk, I grinned to myself. Lady or not, she sure could scream. I liked that about her too. She didn’t have an ounce of shame in her responses. If something felt good to her, she was happy to let me know it.

It just made me more eager to make sure she was happy often.

At least for tonight.

“I like your house,” she said while I searched my pockets for my keys.

“You can’t even see it. It’s dark out here.”

“The frogs next to the walk give off some light.” I heard the smile in her voice. “They’re cute.”

Finding the key, I shoved it in the lock and turned my face away in case she could see my flush. Somehow she’d made me blush because she liked my solar frogs. Maybe because I evenhadsolar frogs. Compared to her life of limos and lounge lizards, they probably seemed hopelessly quaint.

Better hopelessly quaint than a washed-up used-to-be cop who sat around in unbuttoned jeans in front of my laptop all day, resisting the whiskey in my cabinet and the Camels I’d quit while I pounded on the keys.

I hadn’t intended to choose this life, but I’d discovered along the way that it suited me. Facing myself and the character voices in my head every morning was both therapy and punishment.

Over the past two years, I’d sought both.

I pushed open the front door and flipped on the light in the foyer, stepping aside to let my guest inside. I shut the door and set down her guitar case, then I took my sweet time turning back to face her.

She must be wondering how she’d ended up in a rundown place like this with a guy like me.

A guy she’d gone home with without even asking my last name.

Unable to deny the urge, I turned back and took a long sniff of her hair. Her scent was lightly floral, as if she’d used the appropriate two spritzes of her fancy perfume before she’d gone joyriding through town.

“Do you do this often?” I growled, unable to temper my sudden possessiveness as I buried my face in the long dark waves spilling over her shoulders.

Her scent was stronger at the base of her neck and I wallowed in it, letting myself drown in the memory of her swollen clit pounding against my lips.

One thought echoed in my head.

Mine, mine, mine.

She stiffened for the first time in the last hour, but she didn’t pull away. “Do what?”

“Go home with strange men. Men you don’t bother asking for their names.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “I know yours.” She swiveled to face me. This close, her perfume clung to me like smoke. “It’s Jed.”

I groaned at the melodic way she said my name. It rolled off her tongue until I wanted to taste that sound just like I’d sampled the rest of her. Simply swallow it until I could carry her teasing, sexy voice with me forever.

The heavy thud of paws and click of nails on the hardwood floor heralded Freddy’s arrival, if the loud bark he let out wasn’t a big enough clue. A wide smile broke on her face as she turned to greet my gold and brown mutt. She dropped to her knees to circle her arms around his neck while Freddy tried to lick her into submission.

“Hey there, boy. Off the pretty girl’s dress.” I hooked a finger in Freddy’s collar and tried to drag him back, letting out a grunt when Freddy planted his sizeable rump and refused to move.

“He’s fine.” Peyton laughed and continued trading kisses with my dog. She didn’t balk at the way Freddy surged against her, getting his muddy paws all over her legs. Even when he pushed his wet nose in all the places he shouldn’t, her grin only grew.

I rocked back on my heels and tried to ignore the tickle in my throat. Loving my boy was a serious turn-on.

“You like dogs.” The understatement of the century.

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