guilty for a couple of minutes there. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah, but I’m your idiot. Aren’t you lucky?”
“As lucky as a fish in the desert.”
“You’re a pain in my ass, Bond.”
“I know. It’s in my job description. Noelle Bond, private investigator extraordinaire, cupcake lover, shoe whore, and Drake Nash’s personal pain in the ass.”
His jaw is rough, dotted with stubble, and it scratches my lips when I drop a kiss there.
“You do look really tired,” I say softly, touching my hand to his cheek. “Do you want me to wait and drive you to the station?”
He leans back, sips from his coffee, and raises an eyebrow at me. “I can drive myself to work.”
“Yes, but you had a long and emotional day yesterday.”
“Noelle, sweetheart, I can drive myself to work.”
I shrug his arm off me and step back. I stare him down. Poor man—he thinks my question was genuine. It was a courtesy. “Would you let me drive to work if I’d had the day you had and not slept much after it?”
Resignation flashes in his eyes, and his lips twitch up to one side. Bingo. Got him.
“No,” he says. “I wouldn’t even let you unlock your car.”
“Precisely. So grab that coffee tightly, march your fine ass up those stairs, and get ready. If you insist on going to work, we’re leaving in ten minutes.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment before a deep chuckle leaves him and he does exactly what I said. “You know, it’s really hot when you do that. Even if I’m supposed to be the alpha in this relationship.”
“You are the alpha, honey. When I let you be.”
He pauses at the bottom of the stairs. His eyebrow raise isn’t questioning—it’s sarcastic. If an eyebrow raise can be sarcastic. “When you let me be.”
“Yes.” I smile sweetly.
“Note to self,” he says under his breath, taking the bottom step. “Noelle just earned herself a throwing over my shoulder and a spanking.”
I sputter on my coffee, spitting it over my stove. “I heard that!”
“Good!” Drake yells down the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the house. “That’s why I said it out loud!”
He’s not happy. That’s my thought as he slams my car door and flips me the bird over his shoulder.
I wonder if he feels kinda like his mom is dropping him off at work. I mean, maybe the licking my thumb and rubbing at his cheek while Sheriff Bates was standing at the door was a little too far. Still, I gave the old man a good chuckle, so I think that balances out my karma.
Plus, if I’m going to get thrown over Drake’s shoulder and spanked soon, I’m damn well making sure I’ve earned every last smack.
I decide to pull my phone out and text him, but he’s already beaten me to it, despite getting out a mere minute ago.
Every time you piss me off or sass me, I’m adding a spank. I have a tally chart on my board.
A laugh barks out of me. A spank chart! That’s quite something. I hit reply. Can you write a shopping list right next to it? I need aloe vera.
His reply is a picture. Five spanks and shopping list consisting of aloe vera. Wait. Five? Where did five come from? I text him to ask him, and he replies quickly.
You sassed me twice and pissed me off once. I added a couple for good luck.
Good luck for who? Him? It sure as shit isn’t me. That man spanks like a champ. I’m not joking about needing aloe vera. I wonder if we can stagger the spanks. Like two on Monday, maybe one on Tuesday at lunchtime... Four before Friday night dinner so I don’t have to go...
Sleep with one eye open. And call me if you hear anything about the body.
I tuck my phone back into my purse and pull away from the station before he comes out to reply. I honestly wouldn’t put it past him to drag me out of my car, flip me over the hood, and slap my ass right in front of the HWPD. Even I know I’m pushing my luck with that last message, but he’ll probably push his luck right back.
I’m right. When I pull up
“Yeah, but I’m your idiot. Aren’t you lucky?”
“As lucky as a fish in the desert.”
“You’re a pain in my ass, Bond.”
“I know. It’s in my job description. Noelle Bond, private investigator extraordinaire, cupcake lover, shoe whore, and Drake Nash’s personal pain in the ass.”
His jaw is rough, dotted with stubble, and it scratches my lips when I drop a kiss there.
“You do look really tired,” I say softly, touching my hand to his cheek. “Do you want me to wait and drive you to the station?”
He leans back, sips from his coffee, and raises an eyebrow at me. “I can drive myself to work.”
“Yes, but you had a long and emotional day yesterday.”
“Noelle, sweetheart, I can drive myself to work.”
I shrug his arm off me and step back. I stare him down. Poor man—he thinks my question was genuine. It was a courtesy. “Would you let me drive to work if I’d had the day you had and not slept much after it?”
Resignation flashes in his eyes, and his lips twitch up to one side. Bingo. Got him.
“No,” he says. “I wouldn’t even let you unlock your car.”
“Precisely. So grab that coffee tightly, march your fine ass up those stairs, and get ready. If you insist on going to work, we’re leaving in ten minutes.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment before a deep chuckle leaves him and he does exactly what I said. “You know, it’s really hot when you do that. Even if I’m supposed to be the alpha in this relationship.”
“You are the alpha, honey. When I let you be.”
He pauses at the bottom of the stairs. His eyebrow raise isn’t questioning—it’s sarcastic. If an eyebrow raise can be sarcastic. “When you let me be.”
“Yes.” I smile sweetly.
“Note to self,” he says under his breath, taking the bottom step. “Noelle just earned herself a throwing over my shoulder and a spanking.”
I sputter on my coffee, spitting it over my stove. “I heard that!”
“Good!” Drake yells down the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the house. “That’s why I said it out loud!”
He’s not happy. That’s my thought as he slams my car door and flips me the bird over his shoulder.
I wonder if he feels kinda like his mom is dropping him off at work. I mean, maybe the licking my thumb and rubbing at his cheek while Sheriff Bates was standing at the door was a little too far. Still, I gave the old man a good chuckle, so I think that balances out my karma.
Plus, if I’m going to get thrown over Drake’s shoulder and spanked soon, I’m damn well making sure I’ve earned every last smack.
I decide to pull my phone out and text him, but he’s already beaten me to it, despite getting out a mere minute ago.
Every time you piss me off or sass me, I’m adding a spank. I have a tally chart on my board.
A laugh barks out of me. A spank chart! That’s quite something. I hit reply. Can you write a shopping list right next to it? I need aloe vera.
His reply is a picture. Five spanks and shopping list consisting of aloe vera. Wait. Five? Where did five come from? I text him to ask him, and he replies quickly.
You sassed me twice and pissed me off once. I added a couple for good luck.
Good luck for who? Him? It sure as shit isn’t me. That man spanks like a champ. I’m not joking about needing aloe vera. I wonder if we can stagger the spanks. Like two on Monday, maybe one on Tuesday at lunchtime... Four before Friday night dinner so I don’t have to go...
Sleep with one eye open. And call me if you hear anything about the body.
I tuck my phone back into my purse and pull away from the station before he comes out to reply. I honestly wouldn’t put it past him to drag me out of my car, flip me over the hood, and slap my ass right in front of the HWPD. Even I know I’m pushing my luck with that last message, but he’ll probably push his luck right back.
I’m right. When I pull up
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