Citas
Mac blinked. “A sub. Makes more sense that way.”
“I’m not seeing anyone buying you as someone’s whipping boy, Mac. Not with
your size and presence.”
She watched him lace, unlace his fingers again, lean forward, and felt the shock run
down to her toes at the truth she saw in his pained expression.
“It’s best I go in under my own preference.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said at last.
“I’m not seeing anyone buying you as someone’s whipping boy, Mac. Not with
your size and presence.”
She watched him lace, unlace his fingers again, lean forward, and felt the shock run
down to her toes at the truth she saw in his pained expression.
“It’s best I go in under my own preference.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said at last.
“How old are you, Mac?”
“Depends on the day.”
“Mackenzie.”
He glanced at her, relented. “Forty-three. You?”
“I turned eighteen a month ago, I swear.”
He let out a low whistle. “Well, you’re out of luck then, sugar, because I only date
high school girls.”
“Depends on the day.”
“Mackenzie.”
He glanced at her, relented. “Forty-three. You?”
“I turned eighteen a month ago, I swear.”
He let out a low whistle. “Well, you’re out of luck then, sugar, because I only date
high school girls.”
She was angrier with him than anyone
she’d ever known.
Tyler was right. She was in love.
she’d ever known.
Tyler was right. She was in love.
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