Wild Fire (Chaos #6.5)(24)

“Lunch. Noon. Eddie Chavez and Hank Nightingale.”

She nodded.

“I’ll pick you up at eleven-thirty,” he told her.

She nodded again and said, “I’ll need your cell number.”

“You can program it in, in the truck.”

Another nod then, “Dutch.”

“Right here,” he stated when she didn’t say anything else.

She looked weird for a beat before she blurted, “I like you.”

He felt his lips twitch as he shifted, getting closer, and his voice was low when he said, “I hope so.”

“I just…well, it…” She cleared her throat. “Carolyn played Jagger and—”

He interrupted her.

“We’re here, finally.”

“Uh…sorry?”

“We’re at the good part to being in the biker world.”

“What’s that?” she whispered, staring up at him.

He got even closer, dipped his head to hers, and with their mouths close, and eyes locked, he answered, “Live and let live, Georgie.”

“So you’re saying, if we…you know, if something comes of us—”

“You’re you, she’s Carolyn, and Jag will know the difference. And no offense to your sister, but he’s not that into her, so it might sting, that’ll mostly be to his pride, but he’ll get over it, though he’ll get over her faster.”

“Okay,” she said breathily.

He liked the way she said that.

He liked the way she was staring up at him, like she could stand there for a year and do it and be totally down with that.

So he changed his mind.

“I think we need to kiss again,” he told her.

“And I think you’re absolutely right,” she replied.

She pushed up on her toes.

He bent down.

They both wound their arms around each other.

And they went at it.

He managed (mostly) not letting his dick get (too) hard.

But it wasn’t easy.

Then he ended it, walked her to his truck, took her to her car, followed her home and waited outside until he saw the light go on in the unit she told him was hers and she texted, All good.

He waited some more and got, Murtagh is looking forward to his adventure.

He waited even longer and got, Murtagh is my cat-not-my-cat. FYI.

Only then did he reply, Go to bed, baby.

And on his way home, he got, Cute.





Chapter Five



The Right Stuff



Dutch



Dutch was in a moderately bad mood at eleven twenty-seven the next day when he knocked on Georgiana’s door.

It didn’t take long before she opened it, and she did that with her face happy and eyes alight, a big smile on her mouth.

“Hey!” she greeted.

“Babe, you gave me the code to your building,” he stated irritably.

Something she did, via text, that morning, half an hour ago, not at his request.

The smile wobbled. “What?”

“We barely know each other.”

“Dutch, you’ve had your tongue in my mouth.”

“I know.”

“And maybe doing that again would be a better way to greet your New-Style American Girl You’re Gonna Start Seeing.”

At the vague but hilarious reference to Sixteen Candles, and Georgie just being Georgie, he moved fast, hooked her around the waist and hauled her so hard to his body, she let out a high, adorable squeal.

He then laid a wet one on her, shuffling her back into her pad as he did it, hearing the door swing shut behind him.

When he ended it, she was visibly dazed and blinking.

He made note of that since, with the way she ran her mouth, it might come in handy.

“You buzz strangers up,” he ordered.

She recovered and retorted, “You’re not a stranger.”

“We could go bad and I’ve got your code.”

Georgie tipped her head to the side. “Are we gonna go bad?”

“No.”

She got that look he liked way too much, pressed close and moved her hands so they were curled around either side of his neck. “Dutch. We have a new building manager and he’s King of Security. He changes the code randomly and often.”

That made him feel better, and he gave her a squeeze to communicate that.

“He’s also installed more cameras, which means our HOA payment has gone up, and I’m down with more security. The rise in HOA fees, though, bites,” she went on to share.

This surprised him.

“Your landlord makes you pay the HOA?” he asked.

“Since I’m my landlord, yes,” she answered.

This surprised him more. “You own this place?”

It wasn’t tactful, but she didn’t take offense and showed him that by busting out laughing.

Through it, she said, “I don’t know where that comes from, either you don’t think my pad is all that hot and don’t understand why I bought it, or you don’t think I have it together enough to be a homeowner.”

“Babe,” he muttered, lacing that word with apology.

She ran a finger along the stubble at his jaw and said softly, “This pad isn’t all that hot, but it was what I could afford when I got a bee in my bonnet about getting on the property ladder. It took a lot of scraping money together, a couple years of seriously frugal living, and a loan from my dad, but I managed it. Though, I continue to manage it by having a roommate who was in med school when I found her, then took off to save the world, somewhat literally, but still pays half the mortgage.”