Page 90 of I Got You

I play dumb, trying hard to ignore the snickering in the corner where Gwen and Simone have gathered. I want to burn holes in their backs with my laser eyes.

“I’m going to go set the table,” Simone announces.

“I’ll round the kids up and get their hands washed,” Gwen adds, leaving me alone with Shane’s scowl.

I look at him and then back at my task. “What are you talking about?”

“Those.” He impatiently tries to clarify the subject, but I’m not taking it.

I stop and take a breath like I’m put out. “Grizz, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

He takes a couple steps, stopping so close that I can feel the heat radiate from his body. I get back to my task, ignoring him, his intoxicating scent, and the fact that I’d like to grin up at his highly irritated state.

He speaks, and it’s so low and soft my stomach quivers. “There’s no way those boys are coming in here with you wearing those.”

I look down at my pants and then back up at him. “First of all, I’ll wear whatever I want. Second of all, they’re leggings which I wear all the time. And third, those boys out there won’t be looking at me. I’m like a mom. They’re looking at pretty young things like Sadie and, well, Simone because she’s an exception to the rule.”

“No,” he says like he’s decided.

I want to laugh, but I hold it in. “Shane, I’m not changing. No one cares what I have on.”

“There’s a whole group of adolescent boys and Nick, who I can tell you will care very much that you have those on.”

I roll my eyes. “Shane, are you telling me that when you went to your functions with some hot young model on your arm, you dictated what they wore?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought. The funny thing is, they probably would’ve worn anything you asked them to. Not me. I’m not changing.”

He stares at me, and I see something brewing behind his completely annoyed eyes. He bends at the knees and grabs me, throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me back toward our bedroom.

“Shane,” I warn as Simone laughs. When he doesn’t listen, I pound my fist on his butt, but his buns of steel likely don’t even feel it.

Once in the bedroom, he sets me down, blocking the doorway with this giant frame as if I might try to escape.

“Change.”

I can’t hold it in any longer. The ridiculousness of it all makes me laugh. “I’m not changing. I love these pants.”

“Oh yes, you are,” he demands, clearly not thinking any part of this is funny.

“Why? Why do I need to change?” I smile and put my hands on my hips, waiting for him to admit it.

His eyes flick between mine, and he lets out a tight exhausted breath. “Because.”

I step closer, getting all up in his space this time. “Because why?”

His voice is low and rough. “Because if you wear those pants one minute longer, you’re going to be in for something that I’m not sure either of us is ready for.”

Well, shit. I swallow. It’s me taking a breath this time, seeing the honesty in his eyes. He’s right. I soooo want to be ready for what my body wants, but he’s putting me first, and I’m so grateful. Why does that have to make me want to give in so much more?

I step back and try to lighten the mood. “You said earlier I don’t have anything you want. This seems like quite a change.” I smirk.

He grumbles and runs a hand over his face. “Firefly, you’re making this very difficult.” He actually looks in pain, so I give him a break, just this once.

“Fine. I’ll change, but I love these pants. So, just to be clear, I will wear them. Next time, I’ll make sure you aren’t around.” He groans, and I laugh. “Get out there and cut the turkey while I find some not-so-tempting pants.”

He grunts, leaving me to change.

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