Page 42 of One Winter Knight
“Put on a fucking shirt.” Saoirse threw a cinnamon stick at him.
Catching it, he grinned. “Fucking shirt, CiCi? Would that be made of silk or satin?”
“I vote for linen," Carlos nodded.
“Silk. A fucking shirt is made of silk,” I agreed.
“You are all ridiculous.” She rubbed her temples.
“Yes.” Dusty put a hand to his heart. “But that is why you love us.”
A laugh escaped my lips as Carlos went to the kitchen. He gave me a sly look.
Yes. That was why I loved Carlos. As for Saoirse? Maybe that’s what drew her to Dusty.
“Carlos, did you make champurrado?” Dusty eyed Carlos as he added some milk to the pot on the stove and began to whisk it.
“Yes.”
“I have tequila.” Dusty went over to his jacket and pulled out a bottle. “It was a gift from one of the execs at my label.”
Tequila hot chocolate? Yes please.
“Oh good, everyone’s here.” Hale came in, tracking in snow, holding a bag of something. “It’s snack time. Oooh, it smells likechocolate. Is someone making cake?”
“Champurrado. Does anyone else want some more?” Carlos asked.
“Please.” I held up my cup.
Saoirse nodded. “Me, too.” Standing, she brought him our cups.
Hale went into the kitchen and put the bag on the counter. He got close to Carlos, peering over his shoulder at the pot Carlos was still stirring.
Come on. How hard would it be to slip your arm around his waist?Why was I shipping them so hard?
Dusty plopped next to Saoirse on the giant couch and put his cold hands on her face.
“Shite.” In one smooth motion, Saoirse had Dusty pinned to the hardwood floor of the villa. “Don’t do that,” she snapped.
Hat askew, his eyes danced. “But if I get you on top of me, isn’t that a good thing?”
Saoirse let out an aggravated noise. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t end you?”
The tension between them sizzled. I wrapped a blanket around me and watched them. This was better than a telenovela.
“Because I need you to sing that song for me. The one you were humming on the lift.” Dusty didn’t try to get up from her grasp. He didn’t look afraid either.
Saoirsecouldend him. Though I’d make sure she didn’t. After all, he still had to perform.
“I was humming?” Her head tilted, wisps escaping from her bun.
She hummedall the time,but didn’t notice.
“Yeah.” Dusty started humming a lively Irish tune.
“Oh.” Still on top of him, she started to sing in Irish.
I knew this one. It was calledReel for a Nice Dayor some shit like that. My toes tapped. Saoirse would take mecountry dancing,which was a far cry from what Hale probably did in his cowboy boots.
